#THING TO DO. so like. turns out hes not a great guy actually. i at least hope his moms not in his life if she still sucks.

[megamindsecretlair]

Said I Wouldn't, Part 1

Pairing: Dad!Terry Richmond x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem receiving), fingering (female receiving), All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: Babysitting for Terry had its perks. You were able to see his gorgeous ass every night before heading off to your own house next door. And because he went to the gym on Wednesday nights, you had extra time to explore his room and live in your delusions. But when Terry catches you, you are unprepared for what comes next. 

Word Count: 7,608k

AO3 Link

A/N: I...am just going to be honest. I am a WEAK woman when it comes to Aaron and since he's hellbent on killing me, I may as well surrender. Need that man. That full sleeve turned me FERAL. This should be a two-parter. I also fucked around and caught a bug, ugh. Pray for me. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

“Will you marry me?” 

You gasped as you turned to Mr. Terry’s son, Troy, as he looked at you with the sweetest expression on his little face. His eyes were wide and pleading, a shy smile on his face, as he glanced at you like you hung the moon. 

Aww, how come there were no guys your age who wanted to marry you? Then again, you’d actually have to go out with someone for all that and well, you had better things to do. Like get your degree, find a better job, and actually do the whole adult thing before you brought a man into that.

You licked your lips to give yourself time to think of a proper answer. Though you didn’t know how you were supposed to navigate something like this. Mr. Terry hadn’t given you a laundry list of what was appropriate for you to handle and you were a bit out of your depth.

“That is really sweet of you to ask and you’re very brave. But I am entirely too old for you, buddy,” you said. 

Troy tucked his legs beneath him and sidled closer to you. His shoulder knocked into the coffee table disrupting his homework and you fought a smile at the eagerness in his little body. “I’ll be a great husband! I’ll open doors for you and make you chicken nuggets!” He persisted. 

See, the definition of romance. Who didn’t want their doors opened for them and chicken nuggets on demand? You put your pen down on the coffee table next to your own abandoned homework. You faced Troy and fought hard to keep the smile from your face. He was being serious so you’d respond in kind.

“That is a very tempting offer, Troy. But I’m very sorry. I have to say no,” you said.

His face crumpled but to his credit, he didn’t cry. He only scrunched up his face like he was lost in thought. He looked so much like Mr. Terry, it was frightening. 

“But you’re so pretty! Like Dad said. And you’re a good person. Dad always said to find the prettiest, smartiest, good person and marry them. Not like bad girls,” Troy said. 

“What makes a girl bad?” You asked. Out of all the things Troy said, your mind stuck on the fact that Mr. Terry thought you were pretty. It shouldn’t. It was wildly inappropriate, not to mention a cliche and a half, but…Mr. Terry was drop dead fuckin’ gorgeous. If someone like that called someone like you pretty, then…maybe…

“Dad said when they’re ma-man,” Troy said. He scrunched up his face again and then dug a small notebook from his pocket. He flipped a few pages before poking out his bottom lip. “Ma-mani-pu.” Troy sounded out the word, badly, but you knew better than to try and help him. 

“Manipulative,” Troy finally pushed out. 

You smiled and nodded your head. “That’s very good. You should stay away from those girls. In fact, the only thing on your mind should be those books you stopped paying attention to,” you said and tapped his math homework. 

“I can do both,” he said, giving you a grin. 

You chuckled. Just like his damn daddy��� You rolled your eyes and tapped on his homework again. “Math homework, young man,” you said. 

Troy sighed but you could already tell this would be an uphill battle. He sat back on the floor and tucked his legs under the table to complete his homework. He was a bit too small to really manage, but he wanted to be next to you while you did yours.

You worked in silence, working on your own homework, and when Troy was finished you looked over his answers. This new way of doing math was beyond you and that was without struggling from the old way. It looked about right. Hell, Troy needed to look over your homework with how smart he was. 

“Great job, buddy. This goes straight to your backpack so you don’t lose it. And then it’s bath time,” you said.

Troy groaned, dropping his head dramatically to the coffee table. Your shoulders danced with silent laughter. What was it about kids avoiding the bath like the plague? Or maybe you were just a weird child all around. You loved taking baths and taking your Bratz dolls with you so they could go “swimming”. 

“You know, if you want to make a great husband, there’s nothing girls like more than a boy who has good hygiene,” you said. 

“Really?” Troy asked, popping his head up to look at you. “Even you?” After you nodded, Troy packed up his homework into his binder and then rushed to his room. This kid had your entire heart. You’d be sad to stop babysitting for him when Mr. Terry finally figured out what he’d do with the separation from his horrible wife. There would probably be a more permanent, vetted babysitter.

You were absolutely biased against Alivia, Mr. Terry’s wife. After moving in next door about a year ago, you had a front row seat to the awful way she treated Mr. Terry and Troy. Constantly shrieking and belittling them, no matter what they did. Keeping both virtually locked up in the house.

You could count on one hand the amount of times Mr. Terry or Troy had friends over. Or hell, a grandmother or cousin or something. When there were visitors, it was short lived. You were also witness to the screaming match when Mr. Terry finally threw her ass out of the house with nothing but a suitcase a few months back. 

How anyone could treat those two like that was beyond you. But you didn’t know all of it. Only what you were able to see and be nosy about. Since you had no real life of your own, you spent your free time making up scenarios about other people. It was fun…until Mr. Terry invited you into their world to be a babysitter.

And since then, your severe crush only grew more ridiculous. Bordering on creepy really. But you just couldn’t help it. You’d have killed to have a life like this. A stable home, a wonderful kid, and a husband who was good and provided. You didn’t think this life was perfect, no life was perfect, but dammit…you yearned. 

Troy started the bath and you stood up from behind the coffee table to stretch your legs. You fixed the deep rose colored bodycon dress you wore. Not entirely appropriate, but you skipped laundry day and who knows when you’d get another chance considering one of your roommates was a hog. 

You walked down the short hallway to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “I’m in here!” Troy called out.

“Good, make sure you wash behind your ears, please!” You said.

“I will!” Troy called back.

You had about twenty minutes before Troy would be done. So you looked around the house, knowing full well you were alone, and then snuck off to Mr. Terry’s room. Yes, you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help it.

You managed to swipe an old T-shirt of Mr. Terry’s a month ago and so far, he hadn’t noticed. Or if he did, he just hadn’t mentioned it to you. It was the stupidest, boldest thing you’d ever done, but you couldn’t muster the energy to feel guilty about it. It was an old MCMAP shirt that you slept in nearly every night. It still smelled like him, years of his natural scent soaked into the fabric. 

You did a deep dive on Mr. Terry after that, justifying it by telling yourself that you had to know who you were dealing with. Mr. Terry found you on a babysitting app but since you were right next door and a little friendly already, he bypassed all that to pay you directly. You appreciated the extra cash, but people were sick these days. 

But every piece of information you managed to find out only made you fall in love with him that much more. He was on the freakin’ Wikipedia page, like…how could you not fall in love? You loved when people were really good at what they did. You were sure there was a name for it, but fuck if you knew it. You only knew that when someone was exceptionally good at something, it got you all hot and bothered.

Slipping into Mr. Terry’s room, you took a deep breath. This was where he laid his head at night. The rustic decor somehow fit the image you had of him in your mind. He had a dark, rustic walnut headboard that stretched to the ceiling. On it were two lamps that pointed to the bed. 

On his nightstand, he had the same historical novel he started a month or so ago. He had a simple, thin brown blanket on his neatly made up bed. That was point one in why you would never actually work with someone like him. He was too neat for your blood. He’d probably have a heart attack seeing the state of your bedroom. 

You tried, you really did, but well. You were grown enough to admit you just hated picking up after yourself. Not when you had better things to do like binge anime and go down Google rabbit holes for random things you thought about. 

His furniture was simple, functional, much like the man himself but there was something so alluring about being in a man’s personal space. And you did mean a MAN. All capital letters included. You made sure to never touch anything. You just liked getting a peek behind that stoic exterior. 

You glanced at your watch, still making good time, as you looked at the small bottles of cologne. They were nearly filled to the top so maybe he didn’t use it as much? Maybe he naturally smelled that damn delicious. 

On his dresser, he had a few pictures thrown about of Troy and Alivia. You sucked your teeth looking at the batshit woman he married. Why did guys tend to go for the crazy, loud women? Were they allergic to peace? To a quiet night at home, basking in gooey love? 

As your therapist put it, the world was not a stage and no, you couldn’t direct people’s actions. You were not that powerful. What Mr. Terry decided to do in his own bed was his own business. Speaking of…

You sat down on the edge of the bed and cast your eyes about the room. You didn’t always come in here. You weren’t that big of a pervert. Just on Wednesday nights. That was when he stopped by the gym after work. And he always came home sweaty and out of breath. If he were a bit closer, you were sure that he would jog or bike to the gym rather than taking his car.

As you sat there, you let your mind wander. What would it be like coming home to someone of his caliber? Someone able to carry a damn conversation beyond wondering what you were doing every two seconds. Someone to discuss books and themes with. Someone to binge anime with you and discuss the power scaling. Fun stuff. 

An engine pulled up outside the house and you scrambled to get out of the man’s room as quickly as possible. The car door slammed outside and your heart pounded in your chest. Okay, he was a little too early tonight. You closed the door behind you just as his keys turned the lock. You jogged to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, grabbing a cup just as Mr. Terry’s keys hit the key bowl beside the door. 

“Mr. Terry, hi,” you said, closing the cabinet door. You walked over to the fridge and poured a glass of water that you clearly needed. 

Mr. Terry walked further into the kitchen and then gave you a small smile, putting his hands into his gym shorts pockets. He wore a simple gray T-shirt soaked through with sweat and damn, damn, damn, he looked good. His arms bulged underneath the short sleeved shirt, deep veins running along his arm. Delicious. 

“Dad!” Troy barreled into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Whoa, okay,” you said and turned around with a chuckle.

“Troy, we have company. You can’t run around naked like that,” Terry said. You heard movement but refused to turn around. 

“I asked her to marry me, but she said no. But I was able to say manipulative,” Troy said, slowing down around the big word. 

“Is that right?” Terry asked.

“Uh-huh. She said girls like when boys have good hygiene. So you should probably bathe too,” Troy said.

Terry laughed and you heard wrestling. “Is that your way of saying I stink?” Mr. Terry asked.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything…” you chimed in, not wanting to be left out. 

“Oh that’s cold, you both got jokes. You, put some lotion and clothes on. And brush your teeth,” Mr. Terry said. 

“Good night, Troy!” You called after the little boy as he took off towards the bathroom. 

“Good night! See you tomorrow!” He yelled.

“It’s safe to turn around,” Mr. Terry said.

Naw, it really wasn’t. But you took a deep breath and turned around anyway. Somehow, the second time seeing him in all his sweaty glory was just as heart-stopping as the first time. You forgot all about your guilty activities as you openly stared at him in the kitchen.

It was by no means a small kitchen, but it felt claustrophobic standing there. As if his presence was a physical force field pressing into you from all sides. It was your stupid crush on the man that made you all tongue tied when you got around him. 

“I hope he didn’t bug too much. I know he has a big crush on you,” Mr. Terry said. 

You waved your hand. “He’ll grow out of it,” you said. They always do. But you kept that little tidbit to yourself. Though…you did want to ask about the pretty comment Troy mentioned earlier. But you were too chicken. Instead, you stood there awkwardly in this man’s kitchen for no reason. Other than to count the drops of drool pooling in your mouth.

“I should get going,” you said. Your chest was still beating rapidly and you needed to get out of his immediate vicinity. Like right now. You washed out the cup you used.

“You didn’t have to,” he said.

You giggled. “Now, what kind of guest would I be if I didn’t clean up after myself?” You could clean up for other people but when it came to yourself, you lost all motivation to do so. It was the ass-backwards manners you were brought up on, but hey. It wasn’t like anyone was coming to visit your messy bedroom anyway. 

“Let me walk you home then,” Mr. Terry said. 

“I’m just next door,” you said. You dried off the cup and replaced it in the cabinet. He stepped out of the way so that you could walk past him. His eyes tracked you as you moved through the living room, collecting your homework and pens. 

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?” Mr. Terry asked.

“Oh, you’re a gentleman now,” you said and giggled. Did you have a flashing neon sign professing your guilt? Or did your guilt make you suspicious of everything? Because right now, it seemed like Mr. Terry was employing high level interrogation tactics, staying cool and calm while he let your guilt do the talking for you. 

“I’ve always been a gentleman,” he said. 

You could only giggle, too nervous to say anything else as you loaded up your backpack and threw on your cut off jean jacket. Terry’s mesmerizing hazel eyes followed each movement. Were you that bad at acting? Was he about to tell you that he had cameras in his room and knew exactly what you did on Wednesday nights? 

You needed to get a life and a half. Because the thought of getting caught only made it that much naughtier. Your imagination ran wild thinking of ways he could punish you for it. Preferably with a spanking. You bet those beefy hands would give a good one. 

“H-How was work?” You asked. Damn, that sounded nervous, didn’t it?

“Same old story, different day,” he said.

You nodded. You sucked at conversation so you promptly shut your trap and walked with him outside of the door. The night air was crisp, the late January night so frigid that you could see clouds of your breath escape with each exhale. Dew collected on the blades of grass outside of Mr. Terry’s house and it soaked into your flat sandals, tickling your toes.

“How’s your degree goin’?” Mr. Terry asked, breaking the silence.

“Good. Though I think one of the professors hates me,” you said. You sucked your teeth, thinking of Mr. Shoop, your English teacher. If you didn’t have a comma in the right place, he marked you down for one reason or another.

“I’m sure it’s impossible to hate you,” Mr. Terry said.

You snorted with laughter, immediately censoring yourself as you released the ugly laugh. He didn’t need to hear all that. You cleared your throat and shrugged, telling him about the latest run in with Mr. Shoop. You made one little comment about the current book you were studying in class, and now he had it in his head that you were an uppity Negro. 

“Fuck him, then. You’re supposed to challenge the status quo in college,” Mr. Terry said.

You giggled and crossed the low cement border to your own place. The grass was less green, more brittle and dead because no one in the house fucking cared about aesthetics. This was not your forever home. Once you graduated, you were getting the fuck out of here as if your pants were on fire.

“You ever go to college?” You asked.

“Naw. Enlisted as soon as I turned 18,” he said. His voice was like sweet honey in the middle of spring. It didn’t belong on this cold, quiet night in the ‘burbs. “It’s why I want Troy to focus on his grades. Make sure he has every opportunity I didn’t.”

The automatic porch light turned on bathing you both in its warm, yellow glow. It also highlighted your ugly brick porch with the mailbox half hanging off of the wall. You cringed as you climbed the steps but focused on the conversation. 

“You’re doing an amazing job with him, Mr. Terry,” you said.

He scrunched his face, most definitely like Troy, and shook his head. “It’s just Terry,” he said. 

“Yeah but –”

Mr. Terry stepped closer to you, drawing up to his full 6’3 height and looked down at you. You hoped he couldn’t hear your painful gulp.

“No buts. I’m not stepping down until you agree. We’re damn near the same age,” he said. 

You opened your mouth to argue the point but his fierce eyebrows drew down in a challenge. You reared back with a grin and Mr. Terry’s eyebrow shot up in a dare. You licked your lips and nodded. Okay, touché. 

“Terry,” you said, trying it out. It still sounded so wrong. 

“Say it again,” Terry said, his eyes drooping lower. 

“Terry,” you nearly whispered. Terry - gah, that was still so weird - leaned forward and for half a second, you thought he would kiss you. That he would plant those gorgeous pink lips on yours and kiss your sandals right off your feet. 

Instead, he chuckled and then looked down. He shook his head and then stepped back. “My job isn’t done until you’re safe inside,” he said.

“You take this pretty seriously, huh?” You asked. Stupid. Why the hell would a man like that kiss his babysitter? Probably saw you as some teenager next door, even though he was correct. You were almost the same age. But he was more mature and put together than you could ever hope to be. 

“Very seriously,” he agreed. 

You dug in your jacket pocket for your keys, the tips of your ears aflame as you continued to berate yourself. To be clear, you knew you were pretty but you got tongue tied around gorgeous men. Regular men you could deal with. They were the regular, easy pickin’s off of any vine. But Terry was like a fully baked apple pie sitting in a window somewhere. Mouth watering, steamy, and sinfully tempting.

Men like that went for super thin fashion models or apparently, screaming harpies who liked to belittle men. And just like that, you remembered that he was technically married. There was no way that an upstanding man like Terry would step out on his wife, separation or no. 

“Well, the neighborhood is safe since we have a man like you to keep watch,” you said. You turned the lock and opened the door, waving goodbye over your shoulder. Terry waved to you and then took off down the porch, clapping his hands together as he went back to his own house.

You closed and locked the door behind you, leaning your back against it as you sighed. That was entirely too close. But in your defense, he typically showed up after Troy was done with his bath. You’d have to get your snooping down to a more manageable time. 

You groaned and headed to your room, bypassing the discarded clothing on the floor and random water bottles thrown about the foyer area. Pigs. 

Living with two guys and another girl was the bane of your fucking existence. You and Gia had to put your foot down and explain that you weren’t their mothers or sisters or maids and you would not pick up after them. In rebellion, the two men, Andre and Malcolm, doubled down by not picking up after themselves either. 

So if one of them slipped on their own shirts or didn’t have clean dishes, that was on them. Money was tight as you went through grad school, but you had enough to eat out and find alternatives to cooking. To each their own in this fucking house.

You made it to your room and closed the door, turning on lights and getting ready for bed. You settled in for your third watch of Jujutsu Kaisen, sitting comfortably in Terry’s MCMAP shirt but your mind raced as you played tonight over and over in your mind. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Troy asked, the following Wednesday night. 

“Of course,” you said. 

“I like when you’re around. My dad doesn’t seem so sad,” Troy said.

Cue your heart breaking in three, two, one…you sighed and put your pen down on the coffee table. Right back in your regular seats, Troy continued with his social studies homework as if he didn’t just say the saddest thing ever. 

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

Troy stopped writing but didn’t look up from his homework. “Dad was sad a lot when Mom was here. But he smiles more when you’re around. So that means you can’t leave, okay?” He asked and looked back at you with a shy, sad smile on his face. 

“Troy, is that why you asked me to marry you? So I wouldn’t leave?” You asked. 

Troy nodded. “Plus you’re really pretty. And soooo smart,” he said.

Kids. You smiled and hugged him, bringing him closer to you. “You don’t ever have to worry about these things, okay? Your job is to do your homework and listen to your dad. I’m right next door. If you ever need anything, you come get me, okay?” You asked. 

Troy nodded but didn’t seem much convinced by your assurances. He was a kid but old enough to recognize when shit wasn’t sweet at home. With a mom like his, it was a wonder he stayed so innocent. 

You were playing fast and loose with semantics, but Troy didn’t technically ask you to keep the secret. Only if he could tell you one. You’d have to talk to Terry when he got home and make sure the man talked to his son. 

It couldn’t be easy trying to raise a kid in a broken home. The good Lord knew your own parents had a rough go of it. But Troy’s only concern should be which yogurt was in his lunchbox. Not his dad’s happiness or lack thereof. 

You helped look over his answers and helped him in the few areas he got wrong. You helped him solve the problem on his own, not just hand him the answers. “Alright buddy, bath time,” you said.

“Because girls like boys with good hygiene,” he recited.

“Exactly,” you said and nodded your head. 

Troy grabbed his homework and stuffed it into his binder. Then he turned to you with a serious expression on his face, entirely too much like his dad. He was eight. What eight year old needed to be so serious? 

“One day, I’ll be old enough to marry you,” he promised. 

You giggled. “You are going to meet the love of your life and forget all about little ole me,” you said. 

Troy shook his head and grinned. “I could never forget you.”

“You know what, you sweet talker. Bath time, now. You’re too young to think about marriage anyway,” you said with a giggle. 

Troy skipped into his room to put up his homework and then he trudged to the bathroom with a change of clothes and a fresh towel. You heard the bath water running while Troy hummed to some song you didn’t know. 

You checked your watch. After such a close call last time…you really shouldn’t. But it had become a ritual at this point. Your body compelled you to move, to go to his room and pretend for twenty minutes that he was coming home to you.

You didn’t actually want this type of domestic life but…well, who were you fooling? This was exactly what you had planned for your life. But as a nerdy, thickum Black girl with too much time on her hands, no one was exactly beating down your door for your hand in marriage. 

Let alone anything resembling sex. You’d become an expert at handling things yourself but you didn’t know what the actual act was like. And it was too embarrassing to tell grown ass men that you were a virgin and waiting on an actual connection before hopping in bed. 

Sue you, sex meant something to you. And you weren’t going to give up the cookies because some egg head batted his eyes at you and took you on one date. 

You spun around in Terry’s room trying to determine if he moved anything. Added anything. Removed anything. You just liked knowing him. Knowing a side of him that most didn’t get to see. It was what kept you going, something silly to keep your mind busy when school got too tough or the roommate situation sucked hot marbles. 

Your eyes caught on the book on his nightstand. He finally finished the historical novel. The new book he was reading was a crime novel and from the blurb on the back, it sounded pretty interesting. 

You were so caught up in the blurb and the first page, taking care not to disturb too much, that you didn’t notice Terry’s car pull up. Or his keys in the doorway, or him calling your name. You were so absorbed in it, that you dropped the book when Terry entered his room. 

“Oh,” you gasped. 

Your heart jumped to your throat as Terry smirked and tilted his head. “What are you doing in here? Where’s Troy?” He asked.

“Bath time,” you croaked out. Your throat turned dry and scratchy, pulling each word out as if it were being dragged over jagged glass. You had no good excuse for why you were in this man’s room, picking up his book, when you were supposed to be watching his son. 

What if Troy had drowned? What if he suddenly lit the house on fire? Shame made your stomach gurgle as your mind raced for any type of excuse or reason to be in his room. Babysitting 101 was watching your damn kid. 

Terry stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. You were frozen, rooted to the spot, heart beating rapidly and your fingers started to shake. What was he going to do? 

Terry walked closer until he bent down to pick up the discarded book. He flipped it over and dusted it off, being entirely too casual for your tastes. “What were you doing in here?” He asked, his voice too, too calm. 

You backed away towards the wall and shook your head. When your back collided with it, you were out of space. So you began to move to the side, sliding against the wall and trying to create some distance.

Terry turned with you, stepping in time with you, not letting you out of his sight. It was his right. It was his house after all. And you were the creepy pervert in his room. “I didn’t steal anything, I swear,” you said, your voice too small. 

“That’s not what I asked,” he said. He smirked as if this was all a funny misunderstanding. Like it was normal to find you being a creep in his room. 

“You don’t have to call the cops, I promise. I’ll leave and…I won’t come back,” you said. God, you didn’t even want to try and explain this to the cops or your family. You were completely mortified and disgusted with yourself. You knew you should have left it alone. 

“I didn’t say anything about the cops,” he said. He stepped closer to you and you smelled the sweat and overall male scent wafting off of him in waves. He wore a red shirt this time, soaked through with sweat and clinging to his well honed chest. 

He was tall as hell, looming over you whether he wanted to or not. You didn’t know this game he was playing and you just wanted to leave. You were at a loss of what to say or do. He blocked the exit with his body. There was just him. His broad shoulders, his wide chest, his hypnotizing eyes. 

“What were you doing in here?” He asked softly. 

“I just wanted to know you,” you said just as softly. It was a pathetic excuse but at least it was honest. 

“Why didn’t you ask me?” He asked.

You snorted with laughter before clicking your mouth shut. Terry’s eyebrows furrowed and he reached out to cup your cheek. You looked from his hand to his face. Was this man okay? Shouldn’t he be…angry? Upset? Confused? You’d broken his trust in the worst possible way. Got yourself plum fired over something so stupid. This wasn’t going the way you thought it would in your mind. 

“Why do you do that?” He asked. 

“Laugh?” You asked. God, you felt like an idiot. 

Terry smirked. “Stop yourself from laughing. It drives me nuts,” he said. 

“Oh,” you said. You shook your head and shrugged. “I have a weird laugh.” 

Terry leaned closer so that his nose rubbed against yours. “I keep waiting to hear it but you don’t ever let yourself laugh out loud,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes but you were slowly calming down from the threat of discovery. For the time being, it looked like Terry wasn’t going to smack you to kingdom come. This…you didn’t know what this was but you weren’t about to stop him either. This was the closest you’d ever been to him. Ever. You were going to soak up every detail before he kicked you out flat on your ass. 

“I didn’t know you were waiting to hear it,” you said. 

Terry leaned away so that he could look into your eyes. Fuck, he was so pretty. With his ever changing eyes, one of your favorite past times was trying to figure out what color they were. Sometimes they were so blue it would make the ocean jealous. Sometimes they were a stormy gray. Other times, they were a pale brown. It was insane but kept your mind busy. 

“You drive me crazy,” he said, the words slowly spilling from his lips with that subtle drawl. 

“Me?” You asked and snorted. Oh, if he only fucking knew… He drove you to distraction without even trying. One look, one sound from him and you were ready to bend over, ass up, and let him have his wicked way with you. 

“Is that surprising?” He asked. 

“Um…yeah,” you said and giggled. This was like the statue of David coming to life and asking a painting on a date. The mediums were both gorgeous but one was more lauded than the other. 

“I know I can be…serious,” Terry said. You snorted again and he tapped your nose. “But I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Like I was some creep, you know?” He asked.

“Yeah, well. I’m the one who was in your room, being inappropriate. I completely understand if you want to fire me…”

“Troy would kill me if I did,” he said and smirked. 

You giggled. “You’d still have the right to. I am really, really sorry,” you said. 

Terry’s hand moved from your cheek, down the sides of your body before landing on your hips. You gasped, your body tingling in areas you didn’t know you could tingle. Like his hands were a live wire and your body responded in the most unusual ways. 

“You always seemed so nervous around me. I thought I scared you,” he said.

“The opposite actually,” you admitted. Hell, at this point, you might as well lay it all out. Put yourself on a silver platter, ready to be served up to Terry’s mercy. His thumbs pressed into your tummy and you gasped, shivering. 

“The way you respond…have you ever been with anyone?” He asked. 

You shook your head. You didn’t have the words to say you were a virgin. Didn’t want to be even more of a loser in his eyes. Terry cursed softly under his breath and shook his head. 

“So no one’s ever touched you? Why not?” He asked. 

You licked your lips and shrugged. “Guys just don’t like me like that.” It was the only answer you had to give. You were the in-between friend. You were the holdover friend people had before they found their forever person. Without fail, any man you were interested in went on one or two dates with you before suddenly finding the light of their fucking lives. 

After the last guy literally went to the bathroom on your date and came back with someone else’s number, you swore off any hunt for a partner. What was the point? You wasted outfit after outfit, faced disappointment after disappointment, and well, you just wanted off of the merry-go-round. 

Terry tilted his head before stepping away. He pulled you towards his dresser and made you face the mirror. He pressed in behind you and you sighed, feeling a bulge rub against your ass. 

You stared at his face in the mirror and watched as his face ran through a gauntlet of emotions. Like he was fighting with himself and losing the battle, fast. He placed his chin on your shoulder and then sighed.

“What do you see?” He asked.

“Me…and you…” You said. You weren’t trying to be a dumb ass, but it seemed like he was playing chess while you were playing Bingo. 

Terry smirked. “What do you see when you look at yourself?” 

You took a deep breath. You began to describe the features that you saw in the mirror. The way you did your hair, the way you did your makeup, the jewelry that you wore. Terry shook his head. 

“I see a sexy, beautiful woman. I see someone that drives me fuckin’ nuts. A woman that makes me want to do awful, disgusting things to,” he said.

“Ahh,” you said and shivered from the intense look in his hazel eyes. 

Terry’s hands moved up to cup your breasts over the top of your bodycon dress. You chose the burnished orange one today, once again at the mercy of Malcolm who acted like he was the only one who could use the fucking washing machine.

You moaned and bowed forward but Terry’s hands kept you upright. No one ever told you how different it was for someone to touch you as opposed to touching yourself. Everything seemed more intense, more lively, more electric. 

“And I just can’t hold myself back anymore. Tell me to stop,” Terry said. He moved his head to kiss your neck, your jaw, and behind your ear. 

You moaned, body shivering from how good he felt. How right his hands felt on your body. He pulled the top of your dress down, cupping your bare titties in his hands and pinching your nipples.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, knees getting weaker the more he tugged and pinched and pulled. Your pussy responded, throbbed, and you grew wet instantly soaking your panties. 

“Tell me to stop,” Terry said, near begging as he continued to kiss and lick on your skin. 

“I-I can’t,” you sighed. How could you tell him to stop when this was the only thing you ever wanted? The only thing you ever dreamed of? 

“If you don’t tell me to stop, we’re going to cross a line. I need you to say it, please,” Terry said. As he spoke, his hands gripped the sides of your dress and pulled until your dress pooled around your hips.

You moaned as his fingers touched your thighs, fingers digging in and massaging you. His hands moved towards your panties, cupping you over the flimsy fabric. There was a thin layer separating you from what you most wanted. 

“I can’t say it. You have to be the stronger one,” you said. He had to be. Because at this moment, there was nothing you would deny him. If he wanted a star from the Hollywood Walk of Fame, you’d be there the next day with a jackhammer and crow bar. 

Terry dropped his head to your shoulder and groaned, his fingers moving closer to the seat of your panties. “I need you to say it,” he said.

You shook your head. You leaned forward and planted your hands on the dresser top, no longer able to support yourself standing. You were absolutely weak in the knees, ready to collapse at any given moment. 

Terry’s left hand snaked around yours and grasped yours, fingers tangling. His right hand finally pushed your panties aside and he groaned, finding you soaking wet. “Fuck,” he moaned. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned. 

It was wildly different for his fingers to be there instead of your own. He moved expertly, soaking his fingers with your essence and playing with your clit. You shook violently on his fingers, too in your head to enjoy what he was doing.

“Breathe,” he whispered. 

You sucked in deep pulls of air, your breathing returning to a normal rhythm. You nodded though you were out of your mind with pleasure. With feeling. His fingers plunged into your pussy and you cried out. 

“Shh, shh,” he whispered.

Right. Right. There was an entire kid taking a bath at the moment. And here you were letting his dad play with you like a damn fiddle. You couldn’t find one ounce of regret. One ounce of shame. 

His fingers helped you find heaven, light exploding behind your eyelids as your stomach twisted and caved from the pleasure he was delivering. His left hand tightened on yours as you got closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“Fuck, fuck me. Please,” you begged. You needed to know what it felt like. Needed to know right this second what he felt like getting inside you. Your pussy was empty, aching, begging for his dick and you pushed your ass into his bulge to get him to cave. 

Terry groaned and pushed into you, pushing your hips against the edge of his dresser. He moaned as he dry humped against you, timing his wrist movements with his strokes. 

“No condom,” he panted in your ear.

“Please,” you begged. You whined, you cried. You didn’t have a fucking clue what you were saying, only that you needed that bulge inside you. NOW. 

Terry bit your ear. “I’m not gonna endanger you,” he said. 

You collapsed forward. He leaned against your back and then got down to business. Rubbing your clit in circles until you leaned up on your tip toes and bit your lip as you came, flooding his fingers with your slick as the orgasm rocked you on the spot. 

Your world quaked, cracked in half, and then was brought back together by Terry’s grunts and groans. As you came down, you panted and huffed, no energy left in your body. Terry withdrew his fingers and then brought his fingers to his mouth and suckled.

You watched him in the mirror as he closed his eyes. “Fuck,” you huffed. 

Terry winked at you as he adjusted your panties and your dress. You opened your mouth plenty of times but there were no words to be found. What could you say? What could you do? 

“Helllooooooooo,” Troy called out. He sounded as if he had been calling out for a minute. 

Terry adjusted himself and then kissed your neck. “Don’t move,” he said.

He left the room and you heard him talking to Troy. He told the boy to brush his teeth and Troy tried to argue until Terry threatened to check his toothbrush. Troy laughed and his footfalls ran back to the bathroom. 

You were still stuck in the same position you were before, hands planted on Terry’s dresser as if his command not to move had to be followed to the letter. You looked down at the pictures on his dresser, of his smiling wife and son. 

Yet somehow…fuck her. You didn’t feel any guilt fucking her man in what used to be her bedroom. You didn’t know where she was or if she was even coming back. You didn’t hold any expectations. Only that you wanted what you wanted and you weren’t going to apologize for it. If this was the only thing you got from Terry, then so be it. Because it was…life changing. 

Terry re-entered the room and closed the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder. “We’re going to talk about this.” 

You nodded. Yes, there definitely needed to be a discussion about this. “Not tonight,” you said.

Terry tilted his head at you. “I mean…we both need to cool down and Troy needs you. We’ll talk tomorrow? When you get home?”

Terry looked as if he wanted to argue. He rubbed his goatee and sighed heavily. But he had to know you were right. The last thing you wanted to do was interrupt Troy’s routine. Doubly so now that his mom wasn’t home. God, that poor kid had enough to deal with. 

Terry nodded but turned you around to look at him. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes. “We’re going to talk about this. Tomorrow. When I get home.” 

You nodded. Terry pulled you close, giving you a tender, beautiful but way too quick kiss and then let you go. You gathered your nerves and then left his room, looking out for Troy. Not seeing him, you hurried over to your homework and gathered it up, stuffing it into your backpack haphazardly. 

You were ten kinds of turned around. You needed to freak out about this before you could have an adult conversation about what happened between you. Time to lock down your emotions and feelings so that when Terry gave you “that talk”, the one about how this couldn’t happen again, you would be prepared. You wouldn’t embarrass yourself by begging, screaming, throwing up for not having another chance to explore more. 

But…you said you’d be happy with this. And you would be. You so would be. This was…honestly the best outcome you never planned for. You finished and pulled on your sweater and walked towards the front door.

Terry called out to Troy that he was walking you next door and you said goodbye to Troy. The night didn’t seem quite so cold this time around. Perhaps your body was still flushed, reliving the best orgasm of your life. 

Your shoes crunched beneath your dead lawn as you hopped up the porch. Terry stopped you with a hand on your arm. He rubbed his thumb back and forth but didn’t say anything.

What was there to say? He rocked your world? He shifted your axis? Up was down and down was up thanks to the power of his fingers? His fingers. Lordy lordy. Maybe you wouldn’t survive getting fucked by him. You were glad one of you had the presence of mind to be safe and not fuck without a condom. 

“Tomorrow,” you promised.

Terry nodded and then waited for you to get inside before trudging back to his place. And no matter how many times you tried to feel bad, the only thing you could think of was his face as he moaned and his fingers buried to the knuckle in your pussy.

I just ain't slowing down any time sooooon. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist:

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@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

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@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On ch2 (mostly)

ch1(ish) this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

This is most of Chapter 21, cutting out the smut. IT DOES SPICY🌶️⚠️: alludes to smut the night before and blatant talk leading into more.

Tim wasn’t in his own bed. He wasn’t in his Manner bed either. He was pretty sure it also wasn’t the spare bed at Jason’s or Kon’s bed. It wasn’t Stephanie’s or Bart’s or one of the Titan Tower beds. No, this was a stranger’s bed. That should worry him, Tim knew that, but the worry didn’t come.

Instead of worry, Tim felt calm, pleasantly satiated, and sore.

Tim knew why.

Caroline clung to him, like the heavy remnants of a dream. She was right there, pressing against the back of his mind and assuring him that this was all fine. More than fine even; she was quite pleased.

Grudgingly, Tim opened his eyes and blinked up at the nondescript ceiling. Trying to remember what had happened last night was like watching through low resolution clips of time. Things were rather clear at the start and became less clear as time went on. But he very much understood why he was sore and just how much Caroline had enjoyed himself.

Tim was sure he was blushing an embarrassing amount as he carefully sat and swung his legs over the edge of the side of the bed. Yep, sore. Right, well. Tim cleared his throat as if that would also clear up his embarrassment. How was he supposed to act after sleeping with a complete stranger?

“I thought I heard you awake, gorgeous,” the guy—Danny, his name was Danny—drawled from behind Tim. “I know it’s not the right sort of thing for you, but I put some lounge pants and a shirt in the bathroom for you if you want to shower. Pancakes will be up in about fifteen or so, but take your time.”

“Ah, thanks, that’s nice of you,” Tim said.

He waited until he heard Danny walk back off to wherever the kitchen was before he got up and slipped into the bathroom. All of Caroline’s clothing had been folded into a neat pile, other than the lacy underwear, which were washed and drying on the towel rack. Which was rather sweet.

Tim added the bra to the pile, stretching out the feeling of having worn that all night.

Figuring out how to get the shower turned on and hot was a puzzle, showers always were, but Tim managed it smoothly enough. Danny’s shower actually got decently hot too, and Tim took advantage of that to stand under the spray and just try to center himself.

Should he pretend to be Caroline?

Should he come clean?

He didn’t know what was best… or safest.

But Danny was safe. Tim hated that the certainty of that lingered in his mind, but it did. Caroline was convinced that Danny was safe, at least in these regards. He supposed she must have to lingered like this and still be at Danny’s place in the morning. Tim took a deep breath, breathing in the citrus scent of Danny’s shampoo he as using, and let it out slowly.

Okay, truth it was.

The shower had washed away the last of Caroline, which meant it was only Tim standing in the kitchen, trying not to fidget. He was better than fidgeting, he had been a Robin. But he really wanted to right then as he waited for Danny to turn from the stove.

Danny dished up some bacon onto a plate and turned the stove off before turning. “Turkey bacon,” Danny explained with a little raise of the plate before he set it on the little table which was rather full, “and we have scrambled eggs and, of course, pancakes. Take a seat and dig in.”

“That all sounds great.” Tim didn’t move.

Danny tilted his head with a little frown. “Is everything alright? If, ah, this is too much it’s okay if you just want to leave. I don’t usually… do one nightstands so if I’m breaking some sort of taboo with this I’m sorry.”

“No,” Tim said quickly, “it’s not you, it’s me. Wow, not like that. Sorry. I guess I’m just a little awkward about this. I don’t really do this either. Well, that’s not—I don’t do this. I’m sorry, I’m making an absolute mess of this. I guess, just, okay. I guess I should start by saying you should call me Lin. I’m not… exactly Caroline right now.”

He wasn’t ‘Lin’ either, but no matter what Caroline thought he wasn’t going to give Danny his real name. He was too recognizable for that.

Danny sat down slowly in the chair closest to him. “Are you… not Caroline right now because of how you’re dressed or because you’re not Caroline because you’re someone else now?”

“Oh,” Tim wiggled a handy. “Both but more of the second?”

“Okay,” Danny said, his tone careful in a way that made Tim tilt his head curiously. “Are you… freaked out by waking up somewhere different? Do we need to talk about… anything that happened last night?”

“Oh, oh no,” Tim replied quickly. “I’m mostly aware of what happens when I’m Caroline. Besides I was sort of… in between when I woke up this morning. We’re good.”

Danny shoulder’s slumped and he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Okay, good. I really didn’t want—because everything last night was very, enthusiastically consensual and—”

“We’re good, really,” Tim reassured Danny. It was actually pretty sweet how worked up Danny was about this. “Caroline didn’t do anything—okay, well she does it more freely than me, but, ah, let’s just say we’re in agreement about you.”

Danny looked surprised before a frankly adorable smile curled his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, though maybe don’t get too smug about it,” Tim said with a little shrug and finally took a seat at the table. “I never said either of us had good taste.”

Danny’s surprised laughter was a nice sound. “Don’t worry, I know I’m not hot stuff. The attention is still flattering. I spent most of the night not sure how I ended up with Caroline in my bed.”

Tim rested his chin on his hand, watching Danny curiously. “Even though she’s not what she looks like?”

“Like I said last night, any combination of bits is a good combination.”

“That usually doesn’t mean… personalities,” Tim pointed out.

Danny just gave a little shrug. “Nope. But as long as I haven’t hurt her, or you, then I don’t mind this either. Is it different? Sure. And it has me curious about things, but I’m curious by nature.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Tim quipped.

“But boredom killed it quicker,” Danny replied, finishing the verse.

It was Tim’s turn to smile. “I can’t say I’ll want to or can answer everything, but you can feel free to ask a few questions.”

After a considering noise, Danny took a few bites of breakfast as he obviously thought about what to ask. “So since you know things that happened as Caroline, does that mean you have the same preferences about things?”

“Nope. Caroline’s go to drink is a martini. I like whiskey better,” Tim said, thinking to last night. “Or she likes eggs that are runny but I hate that.”

“Huh, okay. Does that keep going to more serious things too?”

Tim tilted his head and took a bite of the rolled up pancake he had just buttered. As far as morning after breakfasts went, this was pretty nice. “Serious like what?”

“Well, like, last night. Take… a blow job. How would Caroline like one?”

“She wouldn’t,” Tim said easily. “She might give one, but mostly to get someone worked up to fuck her.”

Danny chuckled, a low sound that made Tim want to lean in closer to where Danny lounged in the other chair. “Okay. So you know that pretty easily. But what about you? What about Lin?”

Tim tilted his head. “Lin, I mean I like blow jobs, yeah.”

At least he was pretty sure he did. He didn’t do this sort of thing much as him.

Danny smiled like he was amused. “Okay. And any preference? Leaning against a wall? Pressing me against a wall? In bed? Sitting on the couch. Right here in the kitchen with your legs thrown over my shoulders?”

Tim swallowed reflexively. If Tim was Alvin right then, he’d want Danny on his knees, back pressed against the wall while Alvin held his jaw open and fucked his face. But for Tim… “That last one, please.”

“Please as in now?” Danny asked.

“Yes, please,” Tim said, the words much more blatant begging than he had intended.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Danny drawled the pet name in a slow, easy way that reminded Tim of whipped honey. “But you gotta be good for me and let me hear you.”

-

[Smut goes here. Tim has a very good time.]

-

“No pressure, but here’s my number,” Danny said. He was holding out an actual slip of paper folded in half. He ducked his head a little. “You know, if you or Caroline or you and Caroline want to reach out.”

Tim took the slip of scrap paper, the back of some cut up sales sheet and tapped it against his fingers. “You’d want to hear from both of us?”

“Yes, of course! As long as that won’t cause any issues between you and Caroline. And, I mean, obviously I’d like a heads up who I was talking to,” he said with a shy, crooked smile.

It made Tim give a little laugh. “I bet, it would get real confusing otherwise. I can get another number for her and use it through an app. It keeps everything nice and separate for all of us.”

“Yeah? That sounds good,” Danny agreed. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to get you a cab or walk you to the station?”

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine. I’ve been running around Gotham my whole life.” Or close enough, anyways. “Besides, one of Caroline’s bracelets is a low level tazer.”

“Really? But to fit all of that in—sorry, off topic,” Danny said sheepishly. He leaned in and kissed Tim lightly on the edge of his lips. “Thank you for staying, and telling me who you were.”

“Thanks for being so great about,” Tim said. He stole a quick kiss himself before he slipped out the door. He was too tired for things to descend into another round of sex, not matter the position.

Just before he got outside Danny’s apartment building, he took the time to put Danny’s number in his phone and sent of a quick ‘and thank you for the pancakes’.

[thewertsearch]

GT: Well ive thought about it. GT: Even went downstairs to check the great vaulty doodad. GT: And predictably the infernal contraption is nowhere to be found. TT: Well yeah, Jake. TT: That's sort of the point. TT: Thrill of the hunt and all.

Ok, I think I get what's going on here.

Jake's Dreambot is probably the last remaining source of uranium on the entire island, and the AR is turning its retrieval into a game of hide-and-seek.

I'm not sure why Jake hadn't already retrieved this particular chunk of uranium, especially since he has no use for the robot himself. Maybe he was keeping it operational for sentimental reasons?

TT: I thought you liked to manicure the image of a dude who shits his pants over a good adventure. […] GT: I mean i wouldnt put it in a way like that or come out against a solid policy of clean trousers. But yes adventure is awesome. GT: I just prefer the idea of adventures which i can actually win.

Jake's picturing a LIVING GRANDSON SMACKDOWN - and, frankly, so am I. That robot's being piloted by an absurdly advanced AI, and I'm pretty sure Jake doesn't have any combat experience.

Winning, in this case, is shorthand for 'waiting for the AR to take pity on you'.

TT: It seems there is a 76.10395784% chance you are pussying out on me. Are you pussying out on me, Jake?

Now, to be fair, that one would only work if Jake had agreed to this challenge beforehand. After all, you can't pussy out of something you never pussied into.

GT: It seems it seems it seems!!! GT: It seems there is a million percent chance that you say it seems way too much and do it just to sound more like a lame robot from a movie and also probably just to piss me off! […] TT: Have you ever stopped to think that while I may be bound to processes inside the glasses of a real and incredibly cool guy, my algorithms in cognitive totality comprise a conscious entity not far short of the experiential and emotional complexity of a human being? GT: Oh malarkey. GT: YOU ARE A TIN CAN. ROBOTS DONT HAVE FEELINGS.

Jake, it's been sixty seconds since you complained about him pretending not to have feelings.

TT: I do have feelings. And you're shitting on them. TT: It sucks. GT: Oh. GT: Um. GT: Im sorry then if thats the case.

Well, that's something, at least - but I don't think Jake really understands why the AR is offended, so I'm worried it's just going to happen again in their next argument.

How long has the Responder existed for, anyway? Jake seems familiar with his schtick, so he's probably not brand-new - but at the same time, Jake's surprised apology makes it sound like the AR has only recently started to express feelings.

Maybe the AR has existed for years, but hasn't been sentient for years. Like, it really did just start as a primitive response script, but Bro kept uploading more of his personality onto it, until it slowly began to think and feel. Fascinating idea, I have to say.

GT: It can just be difficult to drum up sympathy for a program that presents itself as an impostor so often. GT: Maybe if you werent so ready to insist you were the genuine article all the time? Or didnt make it so confusing for me… GT: I think it would be best if we henceforth treated you as a totally distinct… uh… THING from my buddy.

Hey, it's not like the AR can stop imitating Bro. Even if he wanted to have his own identity, he's currently bound to the response script of someone else's Pesterchum account. When he talks, he's forced to do it through Bro's handle.

All evidence points to the Responder being a thinking, feeling being with his own inner world - which makes it a little ethically dubious to force him to be Bro's secretary. The guy shouldn't be treated as a bargain-bin Bro, the same way that Davesprite wasn't a backup Dave. We all saw how that ended, and it sure wasn't pretty.

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Awkward Tales - Vignette 2: Athletics Run in the Family

“Hey dad! Ready for that workout? I think this football jersey is getting a bit tight. Might need a new one later.” Kyle boomed as he bounded across the hall. The sound loud enough to cause his dad, Bill to jump!

“Oh uh… yeah sure Kyle. Maybe we skip the workout today. We could go shopping and get you new clothes.” Bill offered, gulping as he walked over to his towering son.

“Haha! Very funny dad. I know how you always said that every workout skipped, is a day wasted. I finally get it now! I just beat my PR for bench presses last week! Pretty sure I could do it again this week too if we keep at it! Now let’s go!” Kyle smiled and carried his dad to the car.

Bill sighed. Kyle wasn’t wrong. Before the great shift Bill was a retired amateur athlete. He never could quite go pro, but his passion for working out and fitness was always there. It was something he tried to inspire in his son Kyle, but it never took. Kyle was always more artsy. More sensitive. Less in the physical space and more in the mental. Bill didn’t even care that his son was interested in men, only that he tried some kind of athletic activity. Even as he was making his way through college Bill held on to hope that Kyle would find some athletic spark in his son. Something for them to bond over, but it never came… despite how many times he tried to force sports on to Kyle.

It turns out he should’ve been careful what he wished for. After the great shift, Kyle had landed into the body of a professional athlete, Dallas Turner. Now his one shrimpy son was a 6’5, 250lb titan of athleticism.  Suddenly, Kyle finally understood what his dad was talking about. Running around, lifting weights, hell even playing football. Kyle was in love! The consistent amount of fitness planning that Kyle had done in the 1 year since the great shift was more than he’d ever done in his entire life! And the results had shown! Kyle had gained over 10lbs of muscle since he’d got that body!

NFL scouts had even come around and asked him if he’d consider joining the league after he finished college! After all, a majority of former athletes were now in much smaller bodies that couldn’t play anymore. Kyle was considered a top prospect!

Meanwhile Bill was experiencing the opposite end. Where as Kyle had gotten huge from the shift, Bill was on the smaller end. Previously Bill was a proud 6’3, and now as a modest 5’0 he was seeing the world from a whole new perspective. Not only had he gotten significantly younger, now around the same age as his son, but he was not blessed with the same athletic disposition. Somehow most of his body was much smaller everywhere, but he maintained a bit of pudge around the belly, almost like a reminder of the beer belly he had once before. Only now smooth with no hair. 

Needless to say, it was clear that Bill’s new body was not built for physical activity. That didn’t stop Kyle from dragging his dad to every possible gym that was open post shift. Kyle loved testing the limits of his new strength. At first, Bill liked it too. Helping Kyle reach his physical potential is what he’d been waiting for ever since he had a son. However, the longer they worked out, the more tired Bill became. Not only from the actual exercise, but also from discovering his new sexuality at the gym with all the hot guys in the area.

Bill had gone from a sternly athletic father, to a nervous gay nerd quite quickly. His behavior became more shy and reserved. He began to understand more and more why Kyle liked things like music, art, and games compared to football. Most importantly he even understood why Kyle could never focus around his athletic peers. Every time Bill and Kyle went to the gym, Bill would get distracted after a new hunk began their workout! Kyle was too, but more so happy to show off his incredible new bod!

These thoughts raced through Bill’s mind as Kyle drove them to the gym! Bill could only hope that his secret crush was there. The handsome bearded bodybuilder was a large Arab man who was some sort of janitor in his previous life. Now this guy was second only to Kyle in the gym the more he worked out and showed of his manly body. Bill had already rubbed one out in the gym locker room thinking of him.

By the time they arrived Kyle got to working out as Bill went to refill their water bottles. Then as he joined the gym floor he was stunned to see Kyle talking to the big bearded gym crush!

“Hey dad! This is Amir! I said he could workout with us. It’ll be nice lifting with another huge guy who could keep up with my lifts. Maybe if I play my cards right with him I could invite him over for dinner.” Kyle gave his dad a confident wink.

“W-what?! I mean. Are you sure? You just met him and-” Bill sputtered as the large man came over and shook his hand. The young father was mortified. The guy he’d been obsessed with at the gym. Here? Now!? Talking to Kyle!?

Amir didn’t seem very interested talking to Bill. His banter was mostly with Kyle as they worked out. The two of them matching their routines and flexing at one another. Bill was practically seething with jealousy as Kyle and Amir tossed their sweaty workout towels at him. They were so lost in their workout and getting to know one another they'd completely forgotten about Bill.

“Hey it’s pretty nice of you to bring your little brother to workout.” Amir smiled as he spotted Kyle.

“Oh that’s my dad. He taught me everything I know about working out.” Kyle corrected, as Bill blushed.

“That so? I’ll have to thank him, because he sure made a handsome son. I hope he won’t mind seeing more of me. Especially if I’m gonna be seeing more of you.” Amir arched an eyebrow and smirked.

Bill’s hands were over his face. His son was gonna start dating his gym crush. It couldn’t get more awkward than this!

[edward-munson]

ice cream | E.M.

Summary: It's present day, there's smartphones, social media and Spotify. You and Eddie discover you hold feelings for each other, in a very different way. He likes to show you intimate things he sees on his Twitter and you decide to try it out. (A/N: You'll know why it's called ice cream hehe)

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ MDNI, masturbation, protected sex (p in v), mentions of slight kink

Word count: 3.8k

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

You usually invite Eddie over before going out. It's like a ritual you've been doing over the years, and you both have a few beers as a warm-up too. Sometimes you get more excited and tend to make some drinks for yourself. Sometimes you get him to do it with you.

He's sitting in the easychair on the corner of your bedroom, scrolling through his phone as he listens to his playlist on Spotify. You're finally getting ready after taking a shower and getting dressed first before doing your makeup. Eddie doesn't bother to look at you when you're only in your lingerie, he doesn't care because he's respectful. And that's absolutely charming to you.

He shows you memes and reels in his Instagram and gets you distracted since you're both a little tipsy from the alcohol. He gets on Twitter and snorts when he sees a page that posts different sex positions every day. Sometimes, they're too awkward and maybe a little too much for him.

He's the kind of a missionary guy but he also likes to bend someone over and hit from the back. Which is something he normally doesn't do much, but it's one of his favorite things to do.

You two have never done anything, although you have a great connection and sometimes it makes people think you're together. They always think you're hooking up or going out. Even your friends think that too. It's unbelievably sweet when you're together, because he treats you well. He likes to take care of you, but not like in an older brother way.

As your best friend, Robin tells you that you should invest in this relationship, but you wouldn't wanna ruin it. You know he wouldn't ruin it, but it's been so good that way. It's hard to actually take a step further.

And then when you ask him what he just saw, he turns his phone at you and shows you the picture. "Position 187: Ice Cream" You read out loud.

The image shows a man sitting on his knees, while a woman sits on top of him, her back on his chest, her hands on his thighs as he holds her breasts with both hands. You sure have never tried that before, though. And it shows Eddie hasn't either.

"It's a cute name, isn't it?" He asks as he continues to scroll on his phone.

While you pick a fine dress to put on, you look over your shoulder and laugh. "I don't get why it's called that, but whatever suits them"

You fix the straps of the light blue dress over your shoulder and suddenly you hear Eddie clearing his throat behind you. For a second, you thought it was his dirty imagination picturing himself doing that with someone, so you don't mind him.

But when you turn on your heel to pick your makeup case, you see him looking you over from the corner of his eyes.

"Eddie, sweetheart" You call him out and he looks up at you. Puppy brown eyes trying to play dumb.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"You having a good time checking me out?" You muse, making fun of the way he was focused on looking at your curves.

Eddie widens his eyes and tries to pretend he didn't do anything. He waves you off and looks back at his phone, again, pretending he didn't do anything. But this time, the screen is off and you can't help but cackle.

"You scroll your phone with the screen turned off?"

He tries to laugh at it, but it comes off as a nervous laugh. He didn't think he was being indiscreet like that. Eddie looks up at you and bites his lips.

"Fine, I was. But, it's your fault! Look at you all gorgeous wearing that dress" He heaves dramatically.

You pick up his phone off his hand and place it over your nightstand. You don't know where you got that extra confidence, the crazy idea you just had in your mind, but you used it in your favor, sitting down on his lap.

Eddie looks at you funny, a weird expression over his face when he sees you sitting on his thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring your lips close to his ear.

"Do you wanna try ice cream with me? While I wear this dress?" You ask in a whisper, fanning his skin.

Eddie holds your waist carefully, but there's a small electricity travelling through his bloodstream as you stay this close to him. He knew he was a goner for you a while ago, he just didn't want to admit it. He didn't think he would have a chance with you anyway. He just never tried. Steve and Jonathan told him you guys were a match long before, but he didn't listen.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, not feeling like he was able to speak. There's a rush in his head for a few seconds, because he feels his underwear getting too small for his ingrown bulge. You use his reaction as leverage and plant sweet and wet kisses over his neck, feeling the way his skin was shivering.

You trailed his scruffy beard, enjoying how the small hairs tickled your skin. In the background, a song by Black Sabbath filled the air that was becoming dense from the tension. He used his left hand that was free and placed it tenderly on your thigh, his fingertips grazing your skin. His fingers were just a few inches far from your groin, your own body reacting to his touch.

"I– I would love to, sweetie. But you don't think it's wrong?" He asks, holding back the urge to throw you over your bed and bend you.

You shake your head as a response, trying to make him comfortable and confident. You slide one hand down his chest, his t-shirt covering him. It's a shame he doesn't like to wear buttoned shirts, because otherwise you would've ripped it off by now. His lips are forming a thin line, like he's trying to absorb the idea, because he really wants it.

You already feel his hard cock touching the side of your leg and it makes you want him even more. Eddie doesn't want to just fuck you, because you're not just someone else to him. He wants to give you pleasure, he wants to give you a good time. He wants you to feel good and not used.

He wraps one hand around your neck, like he just figured out you liked being held that way and pulled you against him. He kisses you hurriedly for a few seconds, before clashing his tongue against yours. He tastes the beer you had, it's kind of bitter and sweet at the same time. He breathes through his mouth and forces his eyes shut.

You pull the collar of his clothing while you pull back the hair from the nape of his neck. It's a fervent and sweet kiss, you both play with your tongues as you deepen it, feeling him move a little under you.

It takes a lot of you to break the kiss, but the urgency of having him inside of you was growing uncontrollably and he felt it too. You got up from his lap and pulled his hand until you were both standing on the foot of your bed.

The hem of your dress went up a few inches and Eddie glanced at your ass for a small fraction of time. He wanted to touch it, grab it, squeeze it and even bite it if it was possible.

"How do you want it, Eds?" He felt his heartbeat quicken as he heard his nickname rolling off your tongue sweetly.

He immediately unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, getting rid of it, feeling a small relief. You grazed his bulge in your small hand and gave it a little squeeze, making Eddie grab your face and kiss you again. It wasn't even romantic, it was desperate and lustful. You stroked him through his underwear and he buckled his hip forward in response.

"Turn around, sweetie" He asked in a rushed, husky tone and you obeyed.

You faced your bed, your knees touching the end of it. He carefully placed a hand on the small of your back and bent you over, making you lean against the mattress. You heard him groan, before giving your ass a light squeeze with both hands. He didn't even bother taking off his rings.

"Such a pretty ass, fucking God" He praised you, his voice a little deep.

He spread kisses all over your skin before surprising you with a slap on one cheek. It wasn't hard and it didn't hurt, which surprised you. You immediately felt your stomach sink as you started to feel turned on. Eddie slapped the other cheek and praised it, kissing it back. His hand was soft but you could feel his calloused fingertips stroking your skin gently.

He went straight to your bedside table and grabbed a condom. He wanted to do it right, and he knew what you kept in there because he saw it once. It wasn’t intentional but it came in handy.

He pulled his shirt off and wrapped his cock, jerking off slightly taking a step back to have a better look at you. Eddie couldn't believe he was actually doing it with you. He dreamed of this countless times but he never told anyone, not even Steve.

He kept his hand around his length firmly and stared at your ass, your cunt glistening from your arousal.

He stepped forward again before he pulled your underwear to the side. You felt your pussy throbbing for him already, you were soaking for him and you whimpered as you felt his fingers collecting your wetness.

His fingers weren't like you imagined, he softly stroked your slit and used two fingers to massage your clit, your legs started to buckle immediately and you had to prop yourself before you dropped your weight on the bed. He drew circles around you, his other hand was planted on your ass.

You mewled and had to bite your lower lip when he pushed his thumb inside of your pussy. It was enough for you to feel the roughness of his skin and how thick it actually is. Eddie pushed it further and felt your walls contracting from his touch, keeping a slow pace as he moved it back and forth.

"Oh my God, Eddie" You moaned his name and his cock jumped up to the sound of your voice.

He slapped you again with his other hand, fucking you with his fingers, stroking your clit as his thumb touched your inside mercilessly. You started to ride his fingers, gripping the sheet tightly as you felt the pleasure rising up in your body.

He couldn't help but take in the sight of you, drunk on his touches and whimpering his name. He bit his lip from groaning because he didn't want to look miserable, when in fact, he was already feeling too lost in his own thoughts.

"You look so hot from up here, sweetie" He rasped, his heart was racing and he felt his own legs trembling.

You didn't want him to stop, but at the same time, you wanted to ride him, to feel him balls deep inside of you. His fingers were fast but gentle and it was making you feel dizzy. His thumb was pressing against your most sensitive spot, giving you that blissful feeling.

You look over your shoulder, watching him shirtless, his necklace hanging over his chest and his dick hard rock almost touching your ass. Your throat left a sexual whimper that made him glance up at your eyes. Eddie licked his lip and hissed when he grabbed your ass and squeezed it.

You were exchanging a satisfying and lustful look, one that didn't make it uncomfortable to deal with. It was a knowing look, to be exact. His brain was barely functioning and when he pressed his forefinger against your clit, you didn't hold back the moan that left your mouth. He pulled his fingers back from you, they were wet and dripping over his hand.

You were still looking at him when you saw the way he didn't hesitate to taste you as he licked his fingers, pulling them inside his mouth, savoring your cunt. It was audible how he hummed in the back of his throat, closing his eyes and sucking his fingers.

You were still leaning on your knees, your cunt clenching at the sight of him doing it in front of you. You would never imagine this would happen. You would never actually imagine Eddie would be one to do such a thing, but it's just because you've never actually had an intimate relationship, not like that though.

He opened his eyes and dropped his hand, now looking deep in your eyes and he walks towards you and holds your ass with both hands.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay?" He asks, but you're in such a haze you barely understand what he's saying, just nodding.

Eddie holds his cock and pushes the tip into your pussy, the small entrance making his body rigid. It doesn't hurt for you, but it's a little bit uncomfortable because he's slightly thick. He slowly gets inside of you, and you contract your pussy around him so fast, he stopped breathing for a second.

His eyes closed forcefully, his hands gripped your ass tightly. As he felt the base of his shaft hitting you, he pulled back slowly and repeated his move. He started to thrust against you, feeling your cunt too tight against his cock. His senses were too heightened at this point, his hips pushing forward hitting your ass.

You couldn't stop heaving, crying lustfully and whimpering his name. His waist was slapping against you and the sound of his dick hitting your walls was making you moan louder.

"Fuck, Eddie. That's so good" You mewl and he thrusts harder against you in response.

"You're taking me so good, sweetie. So fucking good" He doesn't hide the way he wants to groan and vocalize his reactions and you loved it.

He slid his hand against your skin until he reached for your arms, pulling you up so you would lean your back against his chest. As the position changes, you feel him deeply inside of you. You can't express how much it makes your body shiver. He gently wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing it rather aggressively but still cautiously. He uses his other arm to hold your waist as he pounds on you.

He rests his chin against your shoulder, his breath hitting your ear. If he wasn't holding you, you would probably just turn into a puddle right in front of him. His cock fits in and you can feel his balls slapping against your skin as well.

You're both a mess of moans and grunts, the sound of the two of you mixing with the music of his playlist that was long forgotten. You're holding his forearm for support, your eyes closed as you concentrate on your pleasure.

Eddie is behind you, praising you next to your ear, fucking you senseless. His thrusts are becoming faster and you don't think you've ever felt this good before.

"You like that, huh?" He chuckles and his breath reaches your ear. His rough voice is echoing inside your head. You don't respond, you're too high. "You like me fucking you, sweetie?"

He suddenly stops pounding on you, filling your pussy with his cock until you feel the tip on your cervix. He reaches one of your breasts and grips it tightly. His other hand that's still resting on your neck, he squeezes it harder, enough for you to choke. Enough for you to still breathe. He knows how to manage it. It makes you feel more turned on for him.

You just nod, you're almost losing your senses. He kisses the curve of your neck, leaving a pepper kiss on it. He can almost taste the salty sweat of it. "You know what? I love it too"

He didn't give you time to recover, surprising you as he thrusted hardly against you, just once. "I love the way you taste, you're so sweet". One more thrust. "You look so gorgeous on your knees for me". Another one.

"Eddie, please" You plead, your voice almost faltering as you're still holding him. "Just keep going".

He likes to be dominant, but he also likes to be the bottom sometimes. But tonight, he wants to show you what he can do. It's not like he needs to prove anything to you, but he wants to make sure you have a good time with him. He wants to have all of it, he wants to enjoy it as much as he can.

"We're doing Ice Cream, remember?" He slowly asks, softly dropping his hand off your neck.

He gets on the mattress, sitting on his knees and he tries to adjust you on top of him, just like he saw in the picture. You position yourself on top of him, your knees up. You sink down and Eddie throws his head back, not expecting the sensation to be so overwhelming.

This time, you're doing most of the work. You ride him, your ass slapping against his thighs. Again, he wraps his hand around your neck and chokes you without much intensity. His other hand grips your hardened nipple and he tries to thrust up against you.

He knows his legs are going to hurt later, but he can handle the pain because it's worth it.

You throw your arm back and wrap it around his shoulders, holding him so you can easily ride him. The air started to feel damp, your bodies starting to sweat and stick to each other.

"You're so beautiful" He surprises you with a compliment and your cheeks flush. "So good to me. I wish I could've had asked you out before"

You don't know how to answer this. You're in pure bliss. Your head starts spinning and you're almost losing control of your body. He drops his hand lower until he reaches for your clit, but you stop him. You want to feel it all. You want to cum without that little help. He respects it and gets back to squeezing your breast firmly, pinching your nipple.

You're both in sync, him pounding on you, you sitting on him, balls deep. Eddie doesn't want to let go of you, but he knows he's going to cum soon. He kisses all over your skin, he savors your salty skin, he hums against it. He feels his stomach tying to a knot and he knows he's getting closer. But he wants you to go first.

"Cum for me, lovely. I want you to drench my cock" His words make you stagnant and you feel your legs squirming.

You start to roll your hips, squeezing his cock so hard he grips you harder entirely. You throw your head back as you feel yourself clenching around him, your hips stutter and your legs start shaking. He holds you closer and waits for you to come down from your high. Eddie feels your pussy throbbing against him, clenching around his dick tighter, swallowing him.

He feels your juices dripping down his cock as you tremble under his touch, you're almost convulsing. "Eddie, this is s'good" You mumble as you slowly start coming back to your senses.

He's not choking you anymore, he's not manhandling you, he's just holding you dearly for a few seconds before he starts stuttering as well.

His cock sputters cum all over inside of you, pulsing incessantly as he moans loudly against your ear. His arms squeeze you a little tight, his thighs contracting from both pleasure and tiredness. He rests his forehead on top of your shoulder, spreading lazy kisses against your skin. He stays a little longer, waiting for the buzz to slow down.

"This was so good sweetheart, you were perfect" He praises, dropping his arms down, gently lifting you up so he would pull out of you.

It's painful to leave from inside of you and he misses the feeling already. His dick still hard after a long orgasm. You don't have the energy to actually move, so you just sit there as you wait for him to throw out the condom. He puts on his underwear, crawling into your bed and sitting close to you.

He places his hand over your cheek that's still flushed and burning from the sweat. He licks his lower lip and smiles embarrassedly. "I think it's safe to say we've kinda ruined your dress".

You laugh kindly at his remark and nod. There is no way you're going to wear this to go out. And if anything, you probably need a shower. But before you get up, he pushes you closer and lays you down on your bed. He leans against his hand, his elbow resting on top of your pillow.

"Let's just take a breath for a moment, sweetie"

You agree, you just know it's going to be hard to walk now. Your legs are still shaking and they might as well feel like jell-o too. "You can still ask me out if you want, you know".

It catches him off guard when you say it. You've been wanting to go out with him for so long, it's only fair you two do it now. He smiles inwardly, looking down for a moment before he looks up at you again. He strokes your arm tenderly, going for your cheek again.

He's always been affectionate towards you, this time you think it's different and you feel butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

"I will, don't worry"

You stay like that for a few minutes, just trying to rest and relax before you decide to finally take a shower. He throws his t-shirt over his head, looking for his jeans and his socks. He doesn't even remember when he got rid of them in the first place.

You keep staring at him as he gets dressed. He has a few spare clothes in your closet, you know that. "You're not taking a shower after?"

He shakes his head, finally zipping up his pants, putting his sneakers on. "Nah, I'm a hard-rocker. We don't take showers".

Eddie shoots you the most generous smile and you can't help but giggle. You pick another dress and go to the bathroom while he just waits for you. The first thing he does is to text Steve and tell him what he just did. Not in detail, but he does. He can't rip the giant smile off his face.

This, thanks to the tweets he sees and shows you.

During the entire time you're with your friends at the karaoke bar, he can't stop looking at you. He can't stop thinking about the sex and how you trembled under him. He also can't believe he gave you one of the best orgasms you've ever had in your life.

"It's never too late, man" Steve approaches his friend, tapping on his shoulder. Eddie looks at him and nods, staring back at you.

[sirfrogsworth]

So, I did know the basic psychology of this. Or I have a good guess at least. But I was too tired and just needed a way to end the post quickly. I am running on fumes nearly all the time and sometimes I just do whatever I need so I can publish something and feel like I accomplished a goal.

But a few people are having issues with what I said.

They mentioned that autistic folks find comfort in repetition and feel like I am calling that sad. I definitely see that as a possible interpretation and I appreciate them mentioning feeling that way.

But I just wanted to use a little bit of energy to address why I don't think I was referring to these normal, healthy coping mechanisms. I mentioned in a reply that my father actually needed to watch the same show over and over because he was too sick to concentrate on something unfamiliar. I get why it can be helpful.

Firstly, I don't know many autistic people who trap everyone they know at a party and play the same 12 songs over and over.

By and large, that aspect was what I found most sad.

But aside from that, I see this repetitive behavior as a very different thing.

In fact, I would say it isn't the behavior itself... it is the *reason* for the behavior.

I see Trump's repetitive behavior more as living in the past, stuck in his ways, being stubborn, and unwilling to try new things. Something I see a lot with elderly conservative folks. They yearn for a better time in the past when they forgot all of the shitty things and only remember happy times. They say music was better in the good old days and refuse to consider any good music could be created outside of that golden age.

Trump is stuck in the 80s and 90s. He was young and healthy and grabbing pussy and fucking models (with and without consent) and going to parties of important people. He was invited to celebrity weddings and was literally Regis Philbin's best friend. Society generally liked him. He was just the goofy rich guy with the hair and many of us thought he was really good at business. Something enhanced by The Apprentice which was heavily edited to make him seem like a business genius. He likes people thinking he is good at business more than he likes being president.

I actually think he hates being president and only ran this time to stay out of jail.

Trump is not well liked as he used to be. No matter how many cult members love and praise him, he remains deeply unhappy. His wife refuses to touch or even kiss him in public. She does this little hand escape thing every time he tries to hold her hand. And when he tries to kiss her she makes him do that French thing where he has to kiss the air near her head.

Every one of his current "friends" is just playing the game. They are hoping their fealty will help them climb the ladder. I doubt he has a single genuine friend left. Except maybe Rudy Guiliani, who turned into a fucking nutball.

He was traumatized from being inches away from death and I think that was the real reason he moved his inauguration inside. A life long New Yorker is pretty well adapted to the cold.

He probably has erectile dysfunction. He is said to need a diaper. People say he smells really bad. Getting old sucks for everyone, but it is devastating to a narcissist of Trump's caliber.

Trump is in a psychological prison of unhappiness and all he has left is his rallies and his parties where he tries to trigger memories of better times. He has the world's thickest nostalgia glasses.

Why do you think he says "Make America Great AGAIN"?

He says he is going to restore the US to its "former glory."

Almost every personal and political goal of his is based on restoring how things used to be. Which is why he so easily fit into the regressive Republican party despite being a New York Democrat for most of his life.

Trump has elderly nostalgia brain and he is stuck in a loop. He is desperately trying to recreate his glory days.

I get why people had an issue with the caption. And I should have waited until I had more energy to clarify.

In the end, this man is stuck in his ways and stupendously uncurious of new things.

And those are terrible traits for a president.

[matteglaze]

Thinking abt Todoroki Shouto, and how he isn't as dense as he comes across...

When reading fanfics Shouto is always oblivious and dense, and yes, I wholeheartedly agree with that—

But i feel like Shouto also does it on purpose, you know? Like, one day you're both talking, and he's just soo up close to your face. 'He probably doesn't realize' you rationalize inside your head, but no, he's definitely aware of the affect he has on you. Your reactions are cute, he thinks, cute in the way he can't seem to stop teasing you.

I think he'd pay extra close attention to people that are close to him, people he holds dear, so whenever you stutter, or your mind goes and blank and you think 'Oh, I hope he didn't notice that—' he does.

I think that's why I like the idea that he's actually a little menance, but the worst part is that he gets away with it !!

Whether it's saying something so humbling and out of depth— something that many would take offense to but think, 'well, he didn't really mean it that way— that's just how he is', NOPE!! he definitely meant it that way, but not clarifying anything saves him the trouble so why should he care yk...

Though, he mostly (all the time really) does it with you. Getting up in your personal space, saying things like "When we're on a mission together, I feel like I can handle anything as long as you're the one by my side"— and it flusters you sooo badly, but no, this is Shouto we're talking about, clearly he didn't mean it like that, right? Right? (And the entire time, he's trying to bite down a Cheshire grin)

So, yes, in the earlier years of being a hero he wasn't really great at communication and unaware of social cues— but now, he's practically evil with the way he acts around you.

Sometimes you think you see it; you're going to call him out on his behavior. There's no way he didn't know what he was doing when he held your face in his hands on a hot summer day, pulling you close and saying, "Is this cooling you down?" (No, actually, this was just heating you up)

But whenever you do call him out on it—

"You know, you're not that slick." You say one day, ice cream cone in hand as you walk next to him, bumping him with your hip. Your eyes slide over towards his mismatched ones, gauging his reaction closely. If you were anyone else you would have probably missed the slight quirk of his lip; the uplift of his brows. But you don't, and the grin on your face overtakes most of your features. Maybe today will be the day he finally admits it. Instead he doesn't speak, takes one lick of his mint chocolate ice cream and then he turns to you, a silent question appearing on his face. A taunt.

You let out a humourless breath, cone tight in your hand as you point it in his direction. Accusing him of something both of you know you won't be able to prove, but he knows you know, and you know he knows you know. But, it'd be really great if he could just admit it, because it's almost like a game.

A game between just the two of you.

"Don't try and act blonde now!" You chide, biting on your bottom lip to control the smile that tries to force it's way on your face.

Shouto smiles at your antics, leaning in close to you, and all of a sudden he completely invades your senses. The smell of mint on his lips is so close, and yet so far. He stares deeply into your eyes, and just as you thought you were getting closer to the truth— he brings his thumb up to wipe absent mindlessly at the corner of your mouth. He pulls back, looks you in the eyes, and takes a tentative lick at the frosty flavour on his thumb. With a cat-like tilt to his head, he says, "I'm not blonde?"

But, the worst part is whenever he speaks about you to others, he speaks so fondly of you; like one would do about their partner— but you guys aren't together. Sometimes he does it right in front of your face whenever you guys are at a hero gala. Shouto sees you talking to a new and upcoming, young, pro-hero and he immediately comes to your side. With how close he is, and with the things he says to them, "I can never imagine myself without them by my side." It gives people the idea that you're both, you know, a thing.

Little do you know, he's been playing this 'game' ever since high school, and even though the two of you aren't exclusive— it doesn't mean he can't get in his fun.

Todoroki Shouto is not good for your health.

[fenya-scribbles]

Blind - Part 1

♥--------♥--------♥

Part 2

Pairing: Felix x fem!Reader

Other Characters: Jisung, Minho

Summary: You're not having a great night, but revelations are made and actions have consequences.

Genre: fluff?, friends to lovers

Content warnings: alcohol consumption, jealousy

Word Count: 1,273

A/N: This one got away from me, but I kinda still like it. Also Minsung is a thing here, because have you seen the on stage back hugs? I have. I'm still not okay.

♥--------♥--------♥

You hated parties. Especially when you only knew the person who dragged you there in the first place. And this party in particular turned into more and more of a nightmare by the minute. You were sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the garden of whichever of Felix’s friends hosted the party, and watched Felix talk to an unnervingly pretty girl who made the most obvious heart eyes at him. And you hated everything about this.  

Having a social butterfly as a best friend had always been difficult for your introverted self, but you just couldn’t imagine a life without Felix. He was your bubbly, beautiful, funny ray of sunshine. Your best friend who you trusted with your life. He was also the man you’d been in love with for the past 3 years. And you kept it under wraps as well as you could. Because there wasn’t a chance in hell you would ruin this friendship by confessing to him and finding that he didn’t feel the same.  

But Felix was pretty. He was downright gorgeous. And it went beyond his looks, Felix was pretty on the inside. He was kind, respectful, considerate. He was funny and smart and just wonderful in every conceivable way. When he looked at you with his bright grin, your heart made cartwheels in your chest. When he hugged you, he sent goose bumps all over your body. But he didn’t know. I couldn’t know.  

You took another sip of your mediocre and very alcoholic cocktail and sighed. It was your third glass, and you didn’t know what they put in there, but it sure didn’t work. This was not how you’d imagined the night going. But it wasn’t surprising either. Wherever Felix went, he ended up making new friends and there was always as least one person hitting on him. It was tiring, really, but you couldn’t do anything about it.  

“You look miserable”, a voice said, dragging you from your thoughts. You looked up to find one of Felix’s friends stand in front of you. He looked at you curiously, hair loosely framing his handsome face. “Nah, I’m fine”, you said, trying to get out of the conversation before it had even started. “You’re not though”, he said. “Tell me what’s wrong!” He pouted, giving you his best boba eyes. He was adorable, you had to admit. You sighed.  

“Jisung, right?” He gave you an affirmative hum, as he sat down in the empty chair next to you. “Now, Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you sad at my party?” He remembered your name. You were always surprised when that happened, but it did drag the smallest smile from your lips. It didn’t last long though, because your eyes wandered back to Felix and the girl. You sighed.  

“I see”, Jisung said, following your line of sight, “you’re crushing on Lixie.” “I’m not!”, you replied too quickly and immediately covered your blushing face with your hands. “You so are”, he said, “and I get it. I’ve been there.” You lowered your hands and stared at him. “What?” He giggled. “Yeah, way back when I first met him. Followed him around like a puppy.” “How did you get over him?” Jisung grinned and pointed towards another guy who was currently opening a beer bottle with a chopstick. “Minho. Showed me was real love is.” “So, I just need to find my Minho?”, you asked. “That depends.” “On?” “Do you want to get over Lixie? Or do you really only want him?” 

Exasperated, you threw your head back and let out a groan. “I see”, Jisung said again, still grinning. You had a feeling he enjoyed this conversation far more than you did. “Why don’t you tell him?”, Jisung asked. “Are you insane?” “Just curious, actually.” You sighed. “He’s my best friend.” Jisung raised his eyebrows. “I know. So?” “So, I don’t want to lose that.” Jisung huffed. “I call bullshit. I’m best friends with Minho. You wouldn’t lose that if you got together.”  

You sighed. “You don’t get it.” “No, I do. You think he doesn’t like you back. Which is ridiculous.” Jisung looked at Felix now, watching him brush something off the pretty girl’s shoulder. “You are insane”, you said, taking another sip of your drink, “And blind.” “Oh, her?”, Jisung said, now actively pointing at the girl who seemingly had Felix wrapped around her finger, going by the way he laughed at her every word. “Nah, he’s just trying to make you jealous. She’s in on it.” 

The grin on Jisung’s face was almost as bright as the one you loved so much on Felix. “What?!” Your eyes wandered from him to Felix and back again. “You’re shitting me.” “No, I’m serious.” “No way! You’ve just had too much to drink.” Jisung huffed. “That’s rich, coming from you.” He gestured at the now empty glass in your hand.  

“What? This stuff does nothing”, you replied with a shrug. He raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” “I’m not making up nonsense, now, am I?”, you retorted. Jisung shook his head with a laugh before yelling “Jagi, can you come here for a sec” towards Minho. The older one turned his head, said something to the two guys he’d been talking to and made his way over to you.  

“What’s up?”, he said as he reached you. “She doesn’t believe me that Lix is trying to make her jealous and that Hana is in on it”, Jisung explained. “So, she’s blind?” Jisung let out a short laugh and then boxed his boyfriend in the side. “Be nice, babe.” Minho giggled. “Alright, alright. It’s true”, he said to you, “I heard them plan it out.” “You’re for real?” You stared at him with narrow eyes. “So real”, he replied, and for whatever reason, you believed him.  

You had to blink multiple times to process the information you had just been given. Felix, your best friend, who you’d been in love with for 3 years now, was currently talking and giggling and getting touchy with a pretty girl to make you jealous? How could that be real? It sounded like a wild fantasy to you. A ridiculous dream. Because that would mean that he liked you too. Your heart lurched in your chest at the thought.  

And then, without even noticing it fully, you got up and walked over to him. He beamed when he saw you coming, looking more beautiful than ever and for a moment your knees went weak – thankfully, you didn’t stumble over your own two feet. “You!”, you said when you reached him, finger firmly planted on his chest. “Yes?”, he said, eyebrows raised in anticipation. 

That’s when the alcohol hit. The world started spinning, your legs gave out, your balance was gone in an instant. Suddenly, you were caught mid-fall by two strong and very familiar arms. “Had a bit much to drink, did we?”, Felix said with a smirk. You stared at him, his face so pretty but also slightly blurry. “You!”, you said again, more slurred this time. And you knew there was more you wanted to say, but your brain stopped cooperating. “I think we should call it a night”, Felix giggled.  

The rest of the night was a blur. The alcohol really did a number on you, and at some point you promised yourself to never again drink cocktails with unknown amounts of booze in them. Everything got very hazy and all you were really sure of was that Felix was by your side until your head hit a pillow and your mind drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

♥--------♥--------♥

Masterlist

[pinazee]

Truer lies

Its interesting to see Shawn starting to deal with the fall out of pretending to be psychic for so long. I think that would really wear on him after a while, and im glad it did. Personally, as an overachieving teachers pet, i would want credit for all the smart things i did. But yeah, on top of that, it must be so frustrating that he cant just be like “I KNOW WHEN PEOPLE ARE LYING BECAUSE OF THESE TELLS, NOW CAN WE PLEASE JUST DO AS I SAY BECAUSE I KNOW THINGS??” Instead, he has to say its a psychic vibe and people roll their eyes because thats not evidence (fair). Shawn even had to convince gus to trust him this time- actually his plea was more than that. He was asking Gus to believe in him as a person. Like, please trust that i still know where the line is. I doubt he thought this psych stuff would last this long though. I expect he thought it would be a fun 3-6 months just like his dad did (and probably Gus too) but it turns out it never stopped being fun. So, what, like 3 years later-yeah, that has to get to you, and also exhausting, not only because his visions were quite physical in the beginning haha. He’s basically a fraud, and knowing who he is as a person, it has to tear him up inside every time he has to lie, especially to Juliet which we know later really bites him in the ass (which i cant wait for)

Speaking of juliet, i kind of wish she would have stood up for him a little bit with lassie, because he has a pretty good record of solving cases and making them look foolish in the process, despite all the silliness and flair for the dramatics. I kind of get why she’d still be on the fence, but i think she could have explained to him that hey, its not you i don’t trust, its this guy who has a reputation for lying. But i get that for the plot of the episode and for the sake of shawns arc they couldn’t exactly do that. I guess it says something that juliet and lassie did have his back in the end which was great. Like, we don’t always believe ya but we’ll be there anyways ;)

why did they both take this bit seriously though?? Hes clearly doing a bit Lol

Lassie may talk a big talk about hating shawn but he was running those hospital halls right beside jules when they thought shawn was injured ;) he loves him case closed.

What the heck is this thing supposed to be??? I googled old handheld games amd couldn’t find it.

Jumping to lieber being the murderer is kind of just bad detective work?? Like they jumped to that conclusion very fast, and frankly, they should have caught the double shadow. I know this is nitpicky but i couldn’t let it slide. Plus, overall i think its a bit meh, crime-wise. Like i was a bit lost with how lyin ryan fit into all of it and what the original crime was but its still fun. And lyin ryan was a fun character that im surprised didnt make a return too.

P.S Lassie likes a nice mustache. I wonder why he didnt keep his mustache that we saw in the flashback of the first ep?? He could have gone full Magnum P.I. Do you think the ex wife made him get rid of it?

[snowflake194]

I don’t usually post fic snippets here (and not on ao3), but this has been sitting in my drafts ever since the mid season finale and originally was meant to be part of something bigger but I never got around to actually building a plot around it so here you have it.

~~~~~~

“I’ll call you when I land,” Eddie says, takes one last look at Buck and turns towards the glass doors.

And just like that, Buck is left standing outside the terminal.

Not for the first time, mind you. Although he supposes, this time is nothing like the first. That first time, he was naïve enough to believe Abby was coming back for him. That she’d take the vacation she needed, see Europe like she’d always wanted, and then return—to him.

He waited, after all, didn’t he? For months.

But no. This time he isn’t naïve enough to think Eddie is coming back for him. Because this isn’t about Buck, is it? It’s about Christopher. It’s about Eddie’s son and the milestones Eddie can’t afford to miss anymore.

And Buck gets that. He really does.

He supposes this whole thing would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if it weren’t for the unprompted realization that he is, in fact, in love with the guy.

To be fair, nothing about these past few weeks was prompted.

From Eddie’s decision to move back to Texas to Buck only finding out about it that day—when he’d barged into his house uninvited.

Whatever, it’s Eddie’s house—it’s not like he’s ever been a guest there.

But no, there was no discussion. No warning. Just Eddie making up his mind and Buck having to go with the flow, like always. Having to support Eddie’s decision because, of course, he understands.

Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have packed up and moved to El Paso with him if Eddie had asked.

It’s not like Buck could’ve been the one to suggest that, now could he.

Hey, Eddie, I’m in love with you and would rather move half way across the country to be with you and Christopher whom I love as my own, than stay in this city with the job I love and all my friends so if you could just see that and not leave me here with nothing more than a stupid promise to call when you land, that’s be great.

Yeah. No. He’s not doing that.

It’s not until he’s back in his Jeep, pulling out his phone to connect to the media console, that he realizes just how long he’d been standing there, staring at those glass doors.

Maddie had texted.

18:48

Hey, are you on your way?

18:57

You still at the airport? Is everything okay?

19:15 1 missed call

19:20

We are saving you a plate but it’s Jee’s bedtime soon

19:30 2 missed calls

19:36

Call me, Evan.

Fuck.

He’d promised Maddie he’d come for dinner.

Buck glances at the time—7:45 PM—tosses his phone onto the passenger seat with a sigh and rubs a hand over his face, fingers dragging through his hair. There’s no point in going now, not with traffic. Not with how he feels, all hollowed-out and useless.

Whatever.

He’s not really hungry anyway.

[apomaro-mellow]

Let's get you that bingo🎉 has anyone requested phone sex yet?

Steddie Bingo Prompot: Phone Sex

Eddie had thought the most hectic things could get were fighting monsters from a parallel dimension but he was wrong. The five months that followed the Spring Break from Hell were the most chaotic of his life. Between healing from his injuries, finding out what the hell happened in California and Russia (goddamn), getting his named cleared, having a diploma thrown in his face, reconnecting with his uncle and friends, being brought into the weird little throng of resident monster hunters, it was all so overwhelming. And that was only half of it. The other half was all Steve Harrington. Eddie figured they'd have some kind of tentative friendship, a mutual respect for each other going forward.

He didn't expect to fall in love.

He also didn't expect Steve to reciprocate. For Steve though, it seemed as easy as breathing. The wrench in the works came when partway through summer, Steve found he'd been accepted at a college. One all the way in Virginia. Within a week of that, Corroded Coffin got discovered and a manager wanted them on the road right away.

Heading west of course.

Just as quickly as they had come together, things tried to pull them apart. But Eddie was tenacious and Steve was steadfast and together they made it work. Mostly through calling. Back in high school, Steve imagined college as bigger parties, looser girls, days running into each other. But reality was better. He stayed in more, with the hopes of getting a call from Eddie. He wasn't doing great in his classes but he wasn't failing either. And since admitting to being an idiot, his pride wasn't too high to attend tutoring sessions.

All to say, life had turned out so differently as he imagined, yet he wouldn't change it for the world. He was in the middle of reading (for fun!) when his phone rang.

"Eddie?"

"Hey angelface."

Steve swooned, suddenly feeling such strong longing. Last time they'd talked, the band was halfway through Wyoming. "Where are you guys now?"

"Just a few miles from Carson City. We convinced Merv to stop for the night."

Steve rolled his eyes. He wasn't the biggest fan of Merv. "He's got you guys all sharing a room again?"

"Actually...the guys decided to go out on the town." Eddie made a drown out sound like he was stretching, probably across a bed.

"Sooo, you're all alone right now?", Steve asked, twirling the cord around his finger.

"Yep. And I assume you're all alone too, handsome?"

"I assume your hand is already down your pants.

I haven’t even gotten to say what I wanna do to you.”

Eddie chuckled on the other end of the line. “Well don’t leave me hangin’, baby.”

Steve hummed in thought as he also got comfortable in bed. “You know what I’ve been thinking a lot about?”

“What’s that?”

“You, me, a really nice hotel room…”

“Hmm, how nice?”

“The nicest. It’s Vegas. There’s a fountain, valets, and you just finished a show, so you’re all amped up.” Steve’s hand went over his jeans and palmed himself, thinking of how Eddie got after performing. “I left the show early, I’m all ready for you in our room.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m in those shorts you like.”

“Oh baby~” Eddie’s voice held a shiver.

“You can’t wait to get on me”, Steve continued. “You’re already on top of me, hard.”

“Fuck yeah, my baby loves when I hump him like an animal”, Eddie growled.

Steve moaned, unzipping his pants. He was about to stick his hand down when he had the bright idea to use the pillow instead. It wasn’t exactly Eddie’s weight on top of him, but it was closer than just his hand. “Yeah”, he sighed. “You’re right on top of me. I’m spreading my legs and your cock’s on mine and it’s so hot and thick, Eddie.”

“Shit.” Eddie whimpered and Steve could tell he was getting close. “Gonna make me cum in my pants again, Stevie?”

“Mmm, you love it", Steve said, hips rolling against the pillow.

"Can't wait to have you again, have you under me again, taking it like you were made for it, fuck."

"I am", Steve breathed out. "I am made for it. Fuck, Eddie, I need you so muuuch."

"You got me baby", Eddie's hand was moving fast, stroking himself up and down and imagining his dick sliding against Steve's.

For a few moments, they simply breathed on the line, listening to each others moans and fantasizing about what they'd do once they were together again. Eddie came first, with a long drawn out groan that brought Steve over the edge too. Then it was just the sound of them panting.

Eddie was the first to speak up once he caught his breath. "You ever thought about spending Christmas in Louisiana?"

Steve smiled. "I'll mark my calendar."

@steddiebingo

Card:

[the-morningstar-family]

Tell Alastor.

Otherwise Vox is going is going to tell him in a sad pathetic attempt to break you up.

He won't be happy about it but if you manage to mention that the sharks liked you more than Vox he's going to find the whole situation funny.

Lucifer fidgets, his partner is actually reading in the trauma book again, clearly displeased by the contents. And disgusted. Great so Al's already pissy.

Lucifer: “Heyyy you”

Alastor, amused: “You always call me so loving things.”

Lucifer, nervous: “Heh. Yeah”

Okay, he isn't too pissy. At least that. Still, the deer notices his king's gitty motions.

Alastor: “Is something wrong?”

Exhausted, Lucifer let's himself fall onto the sofa next to him.

Lucifer: “I may have done something without thinking it through”

Alastor: “What? You? My, I would've never expected it! However will I survive this shock? Darling, we should alert the papers-!”

Lucifer: “Okay smart ass, shut up”

The deer grins in a way that he can only describe as devilish, ironically. He bites his lower lip.

Alastor, softer: “It is something I won't like, isn't it?”

Lucifer: “Yeah…”

Alastor: “Well, spit it out.”

Lucifer: “So I read some more about older psychiatry practices…”

Alastor, annoyed: “Yes”

Lucifer: “And there was uh…”

He tries to word it rather ambiguous. If he's onto something, he might be navigating a mental minefield.

Lucifer: “There was something with electricity. And so I thought that maybe the creepy TV guy knows something. I mean you were friends…”

Alastor, exasperated: “Tell me you didn't ask Vox”

Lucifer: “... I'm really sorry about it”

The demon tenses up, then massages his temples, and finally releases the pent up air. He looks more exhausted than angry. His jaw is stiff and the ears fold back.

Alastor: “That was a rather foolish decision, for multiple reasons.”

Lucifer: “Yeah I noticed”

Exhausted, the deer let's his head fall into the king's shoulder. He did not expect that. Still, he takes the opportunity to massage the soft ears.

Lucifer: “Did you know he had sharks?”

Alastor, huffing amused: “Yes”

Lucifer: “I think they like me more than him”

It makes Alastor giggle. He knows Vox' jealous face like the back of his hand. Adding his excited partner to the mental image is just the cherry on top.

Alastor: “Vox is not going to take kindly to that”

Lucifer, shrugging: “I just like sharks”

Alastor sobers up. Taking deep breaths to keep his current calm.

Alastor: “Don't go to him for such things. He is not really an attentive person, and he is not above using such things against us.”

Lucifer: “I'm sorry. I really didn't think it through. I don't know why you're not mad at me-”

Suddenly Alastor gasps. It is soft and quiet, accompanied by drawing away slightly.

Lucifer: “What is it? Are you okay?!”

The deer snatches one of the angels hands and quickly pulls him forward to lay it on his bump. It's the king's turn to gaps.

Lucifer, excited: “Oh-! That was so soft. I could hardly feel it! Oh they must be still so tiny”

Alastor let's his head fall back on his shoulder. A smile gracing his lips.

Alastor: “I am not mad because you tried to help. And I haven't been exactly… forthcoming with information”

The movement died out quickly, so the king's hands wander back to his partner's head. This time he goes through the hair.

Alastor: “...What did Vox say?”

Lucifer: “He said something like you zooming out when like, gently shocked by accident…”

The deer looks back to the book in thought.

Lucifer: “Are you reading the chapter?”

Alastor: “Yes…”

Lucifer, hesitant: “And what do you think?”

Alastor: “That… that you might have been right. But if it is bad enough, to be erased from concouisness… then it might be best to leave it like it is.”

Lucifer: “You don't want to know?”

Alastor: “Why would I need another thing added to the pile? I have enough, without the thousandth way my father fucked me up.”

Lucifer, softly: “You're not fucked up, Hun”

A soft little huff escapes him. He worms his arms around his small angel.

Alastor: “My point still stands. I don't see how it benefits me”

Lucifer: “Because it's still hurting you.”

Alastor: “What?”

Lucifer: “I know you. You were definitely affected by that. At least while zoned out. And… I think it still hurts somewhere. Even if you don't notice…”

Alastor doesn't answer, instead clinging to him and burying his face even further.

[virtueofsanityx]

as the night goes on, ross goes more warm and fuzzy, and as that happens, he starts to feel more loose and uncareful. he says more things that he probably shouldn't say, he offers a few more little brushes of his hand or lets his eyes roam, but the night seems to come to an end before he can think to extend it, and though some part of him wants to offer maksim a sleepover, maybe a tour of his toybox, since the night is still so young, the man is already leaving and he feels like he's choking on the words.

like it's not the right time yet.

he watches the other man leave with mild interest, eyes definitely lingering even after the door is closed, the buzz of the alcohol making him too warm to function any longer in the clothes he'd tossed on, and he ends up stripped naked and laying sideways on his bed, asleep before he can truly think too much about it.

and then life seems to circle back to mundane. time spent in the classroom teaching, time spent out of it preping for more teaching, mind occasionally wandering toward maksim, pulling up their text thread to look at it, starting to type and then quickly deleting it. he wants to ask if maksim has been on the date yet, though the thought of it makes something in his stomach turn at the idea. he isn't interested in this absolute fucking jerk of a man, but...

maybe it's that tentative friendship thing that ross has been trying to convince himself might be there. he wants his possible friend to have good things. he wants him to find happiness or whatever. so he's feeling sick about the idea of some blind date that's probably gonna suck, and maybe he's hoping the person that maksim's going on a date with is also a little ugly, so what? normal possible tentative friend behavior, if you ask ross.

midterms finish up, and the couple of week break is a great chance for ross to try and get his place cleaned up, to catch up on some of the relaxing he barely lets himself do, and it startles him when his phone chimes with a new message, blinking at it for a moment, starting to respond and stopping when he notices the little dots appearing.

so the date had to have gone bad. that was the deal, right? he isn't sure why that makes his stomach swoop the way it does, but it certainly does.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] doms can sniff out other doms, right? i like a big guy, someone who could just hold me up and fuck me without straining too much, you know? that type. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] take it the date didn't go super well, then, since we're planning a night out? i'm sorry to hear it. but i'll keep an eye out. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] you know deep down inside that i have to make that weird, right? are you sure you aren't telling me to wear a pretty little plug so that you know i have it and you can get yourself all revved up to fuck whatever unsuspecting little bottom i find for you?

he's smirking as he sends the messages off, though some part of him is flustered, heart racing, cheeks pink, pants a little tighter. he doesn't want to admit that last part, even to himself, so he ignores it and moves toward his closer to find that stupid see-through top he said he's wear out. he could always say it lost it, but where's the fun in that. then, after a brief moment of what can only be insanity, he's digging through his toybox and pulling out an array of his plugs, laying them out across his mattress and snapping a photo.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] (image attached) [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] which one? if you're gonna offer advice, may as well go all the way. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] i'm partial to the red one, myself, that's the thickest, but how warmed up do you think i should be? are you planning to actually get me laid?

his face is definitely red by the time he's done with that string of messages, and he's moving to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, breathe in and out, and then look at himself in the mirror, try to calm down a little. he feels almost foolish. this is just banter, why's he getting so worked up over it? blowing out another long, slow breath, he picks up his phone again.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] do you wanna talk about the date, btw? was it just not fun? boring? lame?

Initially, Maksim easily brushes off the beyond ridiculous chatter about toys and other trivialities-------- after all, none of it's directed towards him or meant to be suggestive. And so it's effortless to let everything roll off his shoulders. Everyone has their own ways of seeking pleasure, and if maybe they're hopeless in the dating department or uninterested in a string of meaningless hookups, there's nothing wrong with just getting the job done yourself. Maksim, however, can't fully relate. A big part of his ability to get off comes from something far more innate... domination. There’s nothing quite like the whimpered noises and soft mewls of someone succumbing to him completely, the intoxicating power of breaking them into submission. Of course, he keeps that to himself; Ross’s tipsy jabbering is far too amusing to interrupt, and, admittedly, Maksim finds it fun to poke and prod at the bratty little bottom. Whoever ends up dealing with that in the future is going to have their hands full. After spending just one morning with Ross, Maksim had felt an animalistic urge to fucking tear him apart. ...Annnnnd here he was now, making bets and somehow agreeing to hit a club with him someday. Was he really so bored (or maybe so stressed out of his fucking mind) that he’d let a singular human become his best source of entertainment? Perhaps. But it could’ve been worse. At least Ross was easy on the eyes, far more enjoyable to look at than to listen to when he was whining and bitching. Maksim could appreciate that, even if it meant tolerating the rest. Ahem.

After a bit more idle chatter about nothing of consequence, and with most of the food gone thanks to him, Maksim found himself feeling significantly looser, far more at ease than before. He credited the alcohol for that, along with the occasional laugh the human had managed to pull out of him, though he wouldn’t go as far as giving Ross any direct compliments. That just wasn’t his style. Once the cleanup was finished, a slow, relaxed smirk spread across Maksim’s lips, piercing blues roving down Ross’s form, lingering on the way the smaller man swayed unsteadily on his feet before bumping clumsily into the counter. "Looks like it’s bedtime for you," he remarked, and with a long arm of muscles rippling beneath his skin, Maksim reached around Ross to grab the half-full bottle of vodka sitting nearby. "Drink some more, and then go to bed," he instructed, the playful lilt in his tone matched by the wag of his brows. "Haven’t picked up on anything concerning in the area, so you’re free to get your beauty sleep." His gaze swept over Ross one final time, lasting just long enough to take in the sight of him, before he stepped back. Grabbing the keys to his motorcycle, the Alpha abruptly made his way toward the door, solidly hulking frame moving with mesmerizing purpose as he slipped out into the night. But just as the apartment door clicked shut behind him, he paused. That overpowering confidence faltered as a troubling thought crept its way into his mind; it wasn’t just the alcohol or the warmth of the night that had him hesitating. No------ deep down, buried beneath layers of hardened indifference, Maksim knew the truth. He didn’t want to leave. Not really. What nagged at him was the fact that he hadn’t been invited to stay, not because of danger or necessity, but simply because Ross wanted him there. It was an outlandish notion, one that made no fucking sense, and yet it rooted itself stubbornly in the carved masculinity of his chest. Frowning, Maksim glanced down at the crack beneath the door, his broad shoulders tense. Nah, that's not it, he decided firmly, brushing the thought aside. It’s definitely just the loneliness talking.

After that, Maksim heads back to his pack’s makeshift village, setting the wheels in motion for the upcoming date with a member of a neighboring pack. It’s with some little male Omega, apparently so stunning that he’s managed to get several Alphas and Betas fighting over him, and was currently fending them off like trying to beat back some wild dogs with a stick or some other absurd drama. Nevertheless, Maksim’s skepticism ran deep. When you’re used to beautiful bottoms practically throwing themselves at you, and you’ve had the kind of upbringing he’s had, your standards tend to be a bit more discerning, even complicated. Maksim knows the connection he seeks depends far more on physical chemistry. He wants that spark, the one-of-a-kind gravitational pull that tells him right away that this is the one, the mate. And though he’s never experienced that instant recognition, he’s not about to let his hopes run wild. So, he reaches out to the Omega, sets up the date, and goes about his pack duties------ leading meetings, lending a hand with family matters. In between, he makes a random stop in town at a dingy little bookstore to pick up Lord of the Flies, feeling slightly stupid for caring about some juvenile kindergartner's book. Finally, he takes care to ensure he’s well-groomed and presentable by the time the blind date rolls around.

For the date, Maksim brings the Omega on a typical werewolf-style adventure, nothing extravagant, but enough to feel like an experience. A hike through rugged terrain leads them to a stunning waterfall, its cascade shimmering in the daylight, before finishing with a peaceful picnic in a meadow. Maksim’s prepared for comfort, bringing enough blankets to keep them cozy, though the cold has no effect on them------- werewolves always run hot, after all. But as they settle in, Maksim quickly realizes he’s the one doing all the work in this conversation. He’s the one asking questions, pushing for any spark of energy or intrigue from the little wolf, but it’s like pulling teeth. The Omega only seems content to giggle softly and nod in agreement, never straying from the script, offering all of the submission but none of the personality. Maybe they’ve been told this is simply an arranged connection meant to unite their packs, with zero deeper elements of mate-selection even considered. It’s frustrating, because Maksim inherently knows the real bond with a mate is supposed to feel different. There should be chemistry, a shared fire, but there’s nothing here but polite pleasantries. Maksim can’t help but wonder: is this how they all see him? As the overbearing Alpha, too in love with the sound of his own voice? Does his pack truly believe that he needs someone who won’t challenge him, who’ll simply let him take charge and never rock the boat? That’s how this date feels-------- like a carefully orchestrated performance. And while it’s irritating, Maksim can’t really blame his loved ones. They just want him to be happy, even if they’ve got the whole thing wrong. But one thing’s for sure: he won’t be talked into this kind of bullshit again.

Despite the lackluster outing, Maksim manages to wrap things up on a relatively bright note, politely declining when the Omega shyly suggests coming over to his place . It would be easy, almost too easy, to snatch up the offer and get his dick wet, but for some inexplicable reason, Maksim finds himself more interested in heading home to have a heated conversation with Ross instead. He drops the Omega off with a courteous "thanks for the lovely time," his tone polite but distant, before making his way back to his own home. There, another Omega is already preparing his bath and getting his bed ready for the night. And later, in the quiet of the evening, Maksim lies sprawled across his crimson sheets, the luxurious fox fur pillows propping up his head as he relaxes completely naked, a single scrap of crimson silk draped across his chiseled thighs and hips. One massive arm gets tucked behind his head, supporting his weight as his other hand taps out a message, a devilish grin curling on his lips.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Hope you and your toy collection are ready, we're going out Saturday.

For a moment, Maksim’s mind goes into overdrive, thoughts spinning out of control as his brain becomes consumed by the dark and tempting fantasies. He can't help but imagine Ross, stretched out on the thickest toy, the image searing through his mind all too captivatingly. The idea of asking for a video of it crosses his thoughts, but he immediately discards it. There’s no way he’s letting himself be seen that desperate for a human. Sure, he’d have no problem if Ross introduced him to one, or even tried to set him up with one at the club. But that was different; Maksim owed nothing to an ordinary human, and the thought of them meant little beyond the moment. He wouldn't care if he killed them when his inner beast became too much; in fact, Ross would be leading a lamb to the slaughter on that night, much without his knowledge.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] What's your type btw? So I know what to look out for. [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] I like a man who's pretty, thick. Has some tummy, ass, thighs, all of that good shit. Enough for me to grab onto. [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Also can I suggest something without you making it weird? [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Wear a pretty little plug when we go. What guy doesn't want his sub all warmed up in public? Thank me later.

[adriartts]

alas, turns out grad school is hard so i haven't been drawing much of anything BUT. now. some side characters for yall

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[lecliss]

Had a conversation last night with someone about the two times I've ever dated and I realized that when it comes to the first guy in middle school who came out as gay after like two weeks, he was probably using me as a beard cuz at one point he called me with his mom and had me tell her we were dating but cuz of anxiety it took several minutes for me to actually say it but that was likely him trying to convince her like "Hey I've got a girlfriend, see I can't be gay!" and like, homophobia from his mom aside, that's really fucking funny that I was a beard without knowing it and like six years later I ended up being a gay guy myself.