#also i hate friday deadlines because i work a friday so i end up having a day less than i should

[gaytobymeres]

okay just need to finish this essay and the rest of the assignment (which is very nearly finished). the essay is only 900 words so i just need to not get bogged down with detail but that's so hard :( im about 340 words in with one point fully made, another partially made. just want this to be finished

[indigogvf]

Bottled up

Summary: Jake comforts you after a bad week at work.

Warnings: Crying? There’s no others that I can think of, just lots of comfort and fluff.

Word count: 1279

AN: Thanks for helping me decide which fic to do on my poll!! Im still gonna do the other two at some point, but Jake comfort was the winner so you’re getting this one first😁

Also, my requests are open!! I’d love to hear any ideas.

You just finished work, and you’re walking rather quickly to your car, whilst also desperately holding back tears to avoid your boss after he gave you a deadline for a presentation; a presentation he told you about yesterday. And the deadline is on Monday.

It’s Friday.

After the immense stress and pressure you’ve been holding in this week, it was safe to say you were now at your breaking point.

You practically threw yourself into your car as tears started streaming down your face, not wanting to catch the attention of any coworkers who might also be leaving. Everything that had even slightly upset or bothered you this week now seemed earth shattering as you finally let yourself feel all the emotions you’ve been pushing away. You were never one to talk about how you felt; you always felt as if no one really cared, or that you were being a burden. Everyone has their own stuff going on, why do they need yours to think about too?

You pulled up in the driveway, taking a deep breath before getting out of your car and making your way to the house. You walked in, chucking your keys on the side table and hanging your coat up. “Jake, I’m home.” You called out. You walked through to the kitchen to see where he was after you heard no response, and found him cutting up some type of vegetable, which you couldn’t quite see because he was in the way. “Hey. What are you making?” You questioned.

“Hey, honey. I’m making lasagna for dinner. I know it’s your favourite, and I wanted to do something nice for you.” He smiled. You took a deep breath, not wanting to start up the waterworks for the second time. He was so good to you.

“Oh. That’s very thoughtful of you, Jake. Thank you.” You returned his smile as he pulled you in for a sweet little kiss. “I’m gonna head upstairs and take a shower.” You began walking away,

“Wait!” He called, “How was work?”

You were really hoping you’d dodged that question.

“Uh.. yeah, it was fine.” You briskly walked away, desperately trying to avoid any further questions.

You failed.

“Just fine? Are you sure?” He paused for a moment, awaiting your response. When you hesitated, he continued. “You’ve been a little off with me this week.. have I done something wrong? Is there something going on elsewhere that’s bothering you?”

Fuck.

You hate this. You almost hate yourself for this. You’ve been pushing him away all week, attempting to avoid this exact conversation. As much as you want to just curl up on the couch with him and bathe in his love and affection, you knew yourself too well. You knew you’d crack and end up crying to him about how stressed you’ve been, which is exactly what you want to avoid. You hate that you’ve made him feel like he’s done something wrong. You can feel your lip quivering as you hold back your tears for the second time since you’ve come home. “I’m sorry. I.. I just-“ aaaand here it comes.

You put your head in your hands as you start bawling, trying to conceal the fact that you’re most definitely not okay. Although you think it’s fairly obvious, because Jake rushes over to you, embracing you in a tight hug as your body shakes against his. “Hey, it’s okay. Shhh. Just let it all out,” He says softly into your ear whilst gently stroking your hair. “Talk to me, baby. What’s going on?” He prods.

You collect yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself enough to explain yourself. “I’m sorry for pushing you away all week. You didn’t do anything, I’ve just had a week from hell. I didn’t want to be a burden to you so I just kept it to myself, but I knew if you were to ask about my day, I’d crack.” You mumbled, feeling slightly ashamed because saying it out loud makes you feel slightly pathetic.

“What makes you think you can’t talk to me? You can always talk to me - about anything. I want to be there for you, honey. But I can’t if i don’t know when there’s something bothering you. Your problems will never burden me, I promise. Now, tell me what happened.” He reassures you, still giving gentle strokes across your hair.

You knew your thought process was slightly unnecessary when it came to Jake. He’s never made you feel like you can’t talk to him; in fact, you know you can talk to him. You assume it was from when you were a teenager and your two friends ignored you for being upset, and then proceeded to tell you it was draining to be around you. You’re glad that Jake shows you nothing of the sort.

“Well, on Monday, there was four clients who phoned and screamed at me down the phone for the way that their previous issues were handled. I didnt even deal with their original complaints. On Tuesday, my boss called me for a meeting about those calls and basically questioned my ability to do my job, despite the fact that I told him multiple times I didn’t handle their original complaints. On Wednesday, my coworker shouted at me in front of the entire office about how i didn’t send him some documents he needed, even though he didn’t tell me about them. On Thursday I split my coffee on my cream coloured jumper and had to walk around with a giant stain down my chest. Today, my boss gave me a deadline for a presentation. He told me about the presentation on Thursday, and the deadline is on Monday.” You took a breath, feeling like you were suffocating because of how quickly and passionately you listed all of the problems of the week.

“Oh, love. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated this way. You’re always working so hard, it’s a shame they can’t see that. Have you thought about working somewhere else? You deserve to be respected and seen for your work, and I don’t think you’re going to get that at this company.” He spoke in the most delicate voice.

You thought for a moment, contemplating his suggestion of getting a new job. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about that; but I think you might be right.” You replied.

Jake pulled you closer to him, placing your head on his chest. “You know you can always talk to me, don’t you?” He asked.

“I do. I guess I just overthink it sometimes.” You said, reassuring him.

“Do you promise you’ll talk to me next time?” He held his pinky finger out.

“I pinky promise, Jake.” You shook his pinky as you smiled at each other.

He pulled you in for a gentle kiss to your lips and then planted kisses around your face, leaving an extra big one on your forehead. You giggled in response, already feeling much better.

“Why don’t we eat our lasagna and try to come up with some solutions that might make your work easier, and then cuddle on the couch with a movie on in the background, hm? That sound good, pretty girl?” He suggested.

“Mmm, that sounds amazing. Thank you, Jake. I love you.” You nuzzled your head into his chest. You could hear his heartbeat gently thumping in your ear.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He placed a kiss on your head whilst simultaneously giving you a tight squeeze.

You loved him so much, it was almost too much. But you especially loved how loved he made you feel.

[lucysgraybird]

pairing: billy the kid x veterinary student!reader

warnings: none? mild anxiety?

a/n: yes i did write this to deal with my own academic issues. i am however a politics and theology major so idk what vet school is like at all it just fit the vibe for the story

Veterinary school was, quite frankly, beating your ass. It was a seemingly never-ending stream of deadlines and test dates, and you stumbled home to your dorm each night (or early morning) with barely enough energy to brush your teeth before falling into bed for a couple hours of sleep.

Fridays were a reprieve from this monotony. On Fridays, you made the hour-and-a-half drive out of the city to your boyfriend Billy’s farm, where you'd spend the weekend resting and helping him tend to the animals. You had called him on Wednesday and told him you couldn't come this week because you had too much work, and because you were in a miserable mood that you didn't want to bring into his house, but he'd insisted that you come out. He said that, one, he wanted you in his house no matter what mood you were in – he had, in fact, called it “our” house, which sent your heart soaring every time you thought about it. He also promised that he would make a space where you could work without being disturbed, and he had sounded so earnest that you simply couldn't turn him down.

Thus, on Friday, directly after your last class of the week, you threw your weekend bag into your car and drove down to the farm. Your Fridays ended blissfully early, so it was just before noon when you arrived.

Taking advantage of the unseasonably warm day, Billy was taking care of a rusty gate hinge in just a button-down, forgoing his usual canvas jacket. You strode up to him, checking that he wasn't handling anything particularly delicate before you spoke.

“Finally worth it to fix those hinges?”

He'd been bemoaning the state of his gates all winter, but there had never been a point to fixing them – the past months had been so wet and cold that even if one issue did stay fixed, it was almost certain that another would crop up.

A half smile curved across his face at your teasing as he stood.

“Well hello to you too,” he said. There was a laugh playing at the edges of his words.

“Hi, baby,” you acquiesced, standing on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips. “How was your week?”

“Better now that you're here.”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him with your shoulder as the two of you meandered up to the house.

“Seriously, Billy.”

“I'm bein’ serious! It was a fine week. Not much happened besides the sun finally showin’ her face, so there ain't much to report out on.”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed. “How's Britta doing? Is her hoof looking any better?”

Britta was a cow who'd had an infected hoof the last time you were there. You had taken care of it, welcoming the opportunity to practice what you were learning in school, but had been wracked with anxiety all week that you had done something horribly wrong.

“She's back to her old self, just clopping around and terrorizin’ the bull,” Billy said. “You did a wonderful job, darlin’, I really can't thank you enough.”

“You thanked me plenty last weekend, I promise.”

Once inside, you hung your sweater up and turned to your boyfriend.

“I really hate to do this, but I have to get some work done. Am I gonna be in your way if I sit in the living room?”

“You wouldn't be in my way if you sat smack in the middle of this hall, Y/N,” Billy said. “I'll move ‘round you. Don't worry about it.”

You settled on the couch with your laptop and got to work, focusing on the flashcards you had made for your exam the next week. True to his word, Billy left you undisturbed, mostly finishing work outside to give you some quiet space. You didn't even notice how much time had passed until Billy was handing you a plate with a sandwich and chips and settling next to you with his own. The light in the room had changed from the brilliance of midday to the dusty gold of mid-afternoon. You rubbed your eyes, dry and tight from looking at your screen.

You shut your laptop and set it aside. “What time is it?”

“Just past three,” replied Billy. “I figure it's a little late for lunch, but we can just eat a later dinner to make up for it. Plus, I'd wager you haven't eaten anything since before dawn.”

He was right, of course, and you sunk your teeth gratefully into your sandwich. Billy leaned back next to you, one leg tucked up so he could balance his plate on his knee. You eat in silence; Billy turns to you when you've both finished.

“So,” he said, “I've yet to see that foul mood you mentioned on the phone.”

You cringed, having hoped he wouldn't bring that up. “You don't need to worry about it-”

“Careful, darlin’, or I'll start thinkin’ you're trying to avoid me.”

He was teasing, but your head still whipped up to look at him in alarm.

“No, it's not that, I promise. This week has just been so crazy and I didn't want to bring that to you, and-” You nearly overturned your plate in your rush, and just barely caught it before it shattered on the floor.

Billy set his plate on the coffee table, and you followed suit. He took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs slowly over the thin skin of your wrists.

“Slow down, Y/N, ain't no one on your tail. You wanna talk about what's goin’ on?”

His tone was so gentle and his eyes so concerned that it made you want to cry, though you weren't sure why. Maybe for worrying him, maybe from exhaustion, but whatever it was, it was constricting your windpipe and threatening to spill out into the world.

Billy noticed even though no tears had fallen yet, and he sighed.

“C’mere, honey, I'm sorry for asking,” he said, tucking you into his side and pressing a kiss to your hair. “How badly do you actually need to work?”

Once you trusted your voice to be steady enough to speak, you said, “I have an exam on Monday that I need to study for, and a project I want to get a head start on. Plus my readings for next week.”

“‘kay. And will anything blow up if you take the weekend off? Have you already studied for your exam?”

“I've covered all the topics and I think I know it, but I can never be sure. I can't take the whole weekend off.”

For some reason, that was the straw that broke the camel's back, and tears began to roll down your face. Billy tucked his chin over your head and pressed you closer to him.

“What if you took just the rest of today off, and tomorrow morning?”

“I don't know-”

“Can't see how you're goin’ to get good studying in if you're cryin’.”

And damn, if he wasn't right about that. He just held you while you regained your composure, rubbing his hand absently over your bicep. The business of the last week finally caught up to you in something other than anxiety, and you felt your eyes begin to drift shut. Billy, though he couldn't see your face, somehow sensed you starting to drift off and eased you both into a lying position on the couch. He had your head on his chest, and the steady beat of his heart and rise and fall of his breath lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

[kekaki-cupcakes]

BONJOUR (〃^ω^〃)

if your requests are open and if you so feel like, I would LOVE (♥ω♥*) to hear your Connor Stoll HCS whether misc or x reader related I care very little, I just want more content of my fav.

Sincerely eternally yours - anon.

ciao! ヽ( 'ω' )ﾉ

Hey I know you requested this ages ago sorry about that. I've also decided to answer requests in order of which one I like the idea of the most instead of time because I feel like I'm stuck on a few old ones lol

Also this was so fun to write and I ended up writing a short story at one point or smthn.

Conner Stoll Headcanons

»»————-　★　————-««

-He sometimes forgets Travis isn’t really his twin.

-As do most people that know them. 

-He’s so sick of the jokes about his last name he and Travis just pretend to not understand anymore.

-The poison sprayed T-shirt given to the Hunter Phoebe, stopping her from going on the quest to save Annabeth wasn’t just a prank on the stern girl. It was on purpose, so that Percy could go instead, but no one really realized that.  

-Once he moved to New York years after the books ended, he rented a flat with a smashed in window and a leaky bathtub. He had to live off one dollar pizza slices for about a year [he loved them] until he saved up and stole enough to afford a better flat with three bedrooms. One was for him, one was for Cecil, and one was for Katie when she visited with Travis. He has a bunk bed that he shares with Travis, but he makes his brother sleep on the top bunk like they did at CHB.

-Unknown to him, Travis’s room at Camp Jupiter has a bunk bed too, and he sleeps on the top every night. He’s studying Law. 

-Once Conner was able to pay rent by the deadlines and had steady shifts at work [and once his diet had gotten a bit better, although pizza slice Friday is a ritual] Chiron finally let Cecil move in.

-It was only really because Cecil wanted to go to highschool properly, and finish it this time instead of being chased from the year ten open day by feral harpy’s. He works at Starbucks part time and Conner drives him to every shift and then Iris messages CHB and talks to his friends in his car while he waits for Cecil to finish. 

-He’s actually really disappointed when Cecil buys a motorbike and doesn’t need lifts to Starbucks anymore, but then his little brother needs someone to pick him up because he crashed into a phone box and he’s back to annoyed chauffeurTM again.

-He owns the shittiest car ever, like, one of those falling apart pickup trucks with fluffy dice and he actually keeps it pretty clean because he’s so proud of it. He calls it ‘Mater’, from the movie Cars, because it’s Cecil’s favorite movie. It’s also covered in bumper stickers. Like, nearly every part of it, and people just hand them to him sometimes to fill in a gap. 

-He joined the local track team, and he’s actually pretty good.

-His guilty pleasure is Taylor Swift’s 1989 album and eating peanut butter MnM’s by the bag even though he hates real MnM’s.  

-He never really wanted to go to University, and the strictness of Camp Jupiter would’ve killed him, so he got a job at the lolly store Sally used to work at, but was fired when he let too many little kids shoplift. 

-Now he’s working at a backpackers lodge instead, and he actually really likes meeting all the traveling people that come through, even though he knows it’s because of his dad. His relationship with Hermes is questionable, mainly because of Luke. 

-He loved his brother but after the Titan war and all the shame put on their cabin he hated Luke with a passion, as did most of his siblings, even if they sort of did understand why he did it all anyway. Conner wouldn’t have joined the Titan Army, but he knows that if the majority of Camp Halfblood was to stage something like that again he probably would. He’s loyal to his siblings and friends, not the gods. 

-Chris Rodriguez agrees on that part. They’ve talked about it a lot. 

-Chris stayed over on the fold out couch enough for him to get a toothbrush in the bathroom and his favorite cereal in the pantry, which is weet-bix bites with honey and blueberries [if someone went to the shops for something other than pink monster energy drinks and grain waves]. He stills lives at Camp Half-blood with Clarrise most of the time and he’s going to University online but has to come in once or twice a week for tests and practical classes. He wanted to be a paramedic but he knew that would be too much stress on him and so would being a therapist.

-Chris is studying nursing and catches a ride with Pollux [who is studying to be a paramedic] sometimes.  

-Then Pollux began staying over sometimes as well.

-And of course there were times when Clarrise would come into the city with her boyfriend to find late night underground fight clubs and visit Coach Hedge [he was the satyr that brought her to CHB].

-Six months pass and Conner’s apartment is a mini Camp Halfblood stop by.

-This is confirmed when Lou Ellen bursts in at three am with a hellhound on her heels and the app Malcom Pace had invented that directed demigods to nearby safe havens when they were in danger.                                                                                                               She explained that his flat had come up and she needed to talk to Austin [who was sleeping on the couch] about how somebody from his cabin had stolen her voodoo doll of Will that they liked to tickle while he was stitching someone up in the Infirmary. 

-He’s accepted it now but sometimes when a random kid shows up covered in blood he sends them to Sally’s apartment [she’s on the app as well]. There’s only so many blow up mattresses and showers long enough to scrub monster grit off a twenty something year old can afford. 

-He gets promoted at the traveler’s lodge, and ends up sending a lot of demigods, nymphs, and satyrs there as well. 

-Chris’s nursing skills help out a lot more than they were hoping.

-So does having Pollux the paramedic on speed dial. 

-He pirates anything he watches, and his favorites are The Last Of Us and Ferris Bueller's day off. He is obligated to watch Cars at least once a week with Cecil, but his favorite Disney movie is The BFG [it used to be the Lion King but then Luke happened and it hit too far home]. 

-He also really liked watching The Hunger Games but then he realized what it reminded him of and now he steers clear. 

-That, and the fact the Castor and Pollux trope is used. 

-Conner hates musicals. 

»»————-　★　————-««

[storytowrite]

|Don’t be late again ~ Kim Seungmin|

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Theme: Seungmin x Y/N, teacher au, smut

Word count: 1,689

Warnings: mention of punishment, sex with the teacher

Summary: Y/N being late again at her classes and her teacher, Seungmin is not pleased about that

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The day was bright and quite warm, which was unusual for the early autumn. You were walking towards your university with a coffee from Starbucks in your right hand and a bunch of notebooks in your left one. You were heading towards your classroom. You were late. And your professor, Kim Seungmin, the most annoying person you’ve ever met, didn’t like that.

You entered the class saying quietly “sorry for being late” and sat down at your desk. You didn’t even look at the clearly annoyed professor who was now standing in front of you.

‘Ehm…’ He cleared his voice. ‘Miss Y/N, what is the rule number one when it comes to our classes?’

‘To not be late?’ You asked rolling your back.

‘Then why are you late, again?’ He asked with sharpness in his voice.

‘Because the line in the café was long?’ You took a sip of coffee and didn't even look at him, which made him even more annoyed with you.

‘Ah, yes. The line in the café.’ He snarled. ‘You will stay after class will end Miss Y/N.’

‘Wha… But why?’ You asked, looking at him surprised. He’d never told you to stay after class.

‘Because I said so.’ He answered and then turned towards the rest of the class. ‘And now, you all can thank your friend here, because all of you will do an additional assignment individually or in pairs. The deadline is due next Friday.’

You looked shocked at him. He wanted to give your class an additional task anyway. You knew that, because it was typical of him. But this time he put all the blame on you. All of your classmates were angry and disappointed with you, and you couldn’t do anything about that.

You sighed heavily. You weren’t the most liked person in your class and with your professor's action, you started to be even less liked than before. You wanted to figure out why he said what he said. Why did he put on this situation?

All of your classmates had ignored you. They paired up and left you all alone. You knew you would end up like that. That made you hate your professor even more than before.

The classes finally ended. You took your belongings and wanted to leave the class when your teacher approached you.

‘Miss Y/N haven’t you forgotten something?‘ He asked with a stern voice.

‘I don’t know, have I?‘ You asked, looking at him clearly annoyed.

‘Sit down, please.’ He said sharply. There was something in his voice that made goosebumps on your body. ‘I said, sit down.’ Now his voice was a little more angry.

‘Y-yes sir…’ You said and stuttered a little. You sat down and looked at him.

‘Good girl.’ He muttered and cleared his voice. ‘I’ll be clear. I hate when you are being late. And I cannot accept that in my class. Do you understand Y/N? There is only one rule and believe me I don’t want to punish you just because you cannot be here on time. And also you, taking back and undermining my authority drives me crazy. So unless you have a good explanation for your behaviour or we will play differently.’

‘I’m sorry sir…’ You said looking at him with wide eyes. ‘I didn’t know that…’

‘Oh stop that nonsense Y/N. You know.’ He interrupted you. ‘We both know that you know what you are doing. You don’t respect me at all.’

‘I… I’m sorry?’ You smiled with a cute expression on your face which made his heart flutter.

‘You are sorry?’ He asked and raised his eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so. Probably I should give you a lesson giving another assignment due tomorrow, hm?’

‘No! Professor please no! I’ll do everything!’ You stood up.

‘I like it when you beg.’ He smiled. ‘You will do anything? Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Anything. Please. I’ve already worked on my own on your assignment you gave us today. Please have mercy.’

‘I do really like when you beg, baby doll.’ He said seductively. You looked at him with wide eyes open. He called you a baby doll. You weren’t deaf.

You swallowed hard and were looking at him surprised. It was the first time in your life when you didn’t know what to say. The first time ever when you couldn’t think about a proper riposte. You were more than confused. Didn’t know what to do.

He was looking at you with an unreadable facial expression. You didn’t know what to do, or what to say. You stared at him with a million questions running through your head.

Was he serious? Did he really call you a baby doll? Little that he knew that it was actually turning you on. You moved your legs slightly feeling your growing wetness in your underpants. Unfortunately he saw your movement.

‘What’s wrong baby doll?’ He put a stronger accent on his last two words. Which only made you go crazier. ‘Do you have a problem, little one?’

‘Wha… Ehm… What? A problem? N-no’. You stuttered again. It was pretty unusual for you because typically you knew what to say or do. But being with HIM, all alone, made you a little uneasy. You didn’t want to admit it in front of yourself, but you in fact liked him more than you could say.

He was just different. He was smart, handsome, not that old and definitely not boring. He was a great teacher though. You secretly liked his lessons. He could catch everyone’s attention easily. Half of the school, including other professors, both male and female, had a crush on him. No doubts on that.

But you. Even if you liked his lessons, since biology was your cup of tea, you didn’t like him. He was an arrogant jerk, who always put some sort of comment towards you. He was the big tease too. And you were sick and tired of his comments. But were you really?

‘What are you thinking about, sweetheart?’ He asked, tilting his head to the side.

‘Why do you hate me professor..’ You said looking at him. He looked a little surprised.

‘Who said that I hate you? I would rather say that it’s quite the opposite…’

‘Because you are always humiliating me in front of the class, and…’ You couldn’t finish your thoughts. Suddenly you were interrupted by his lips, which were on yours. He. Kissed. You. It took you by surprise but after a short while you answered the kiss. He deepened the kiss then pulled away. He licked his lower lip and you followed his tongue with your gaze. He was a great kisser. You just wanted more.

‘Does it answer your question, Y/N?’ He asked.

‘I guess so… You answered quietly. Still confused.

‘Good… Do you want more, baby doll?’ He asked, leaning over you. ‘I can already tell what your answer is… Are you wet?’ He asked again, kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs. ‘Yes, very wet…’ Then he ran his finger over your private area through your panties. You sighed quietly. ‘Take them off, let me see.’ He commanded.

‘B-but what if someone sees us?’ You asked with fear.

‘Nobody will see us, baby doll. I’d closed the door.’ He smiled at you. ‘Take them off.’

You did what he said. You took your underwear off. Now he could see your bare skin and dripping wetness from your pussy. How come one man could make you like this? You didn’t have time to answer that question, because Seungmin’s hands were all over your thighs.

He lifted you and sat you again on the desk. Then he leaned over you kissing your neck passionately. One of his hands slipped between your legs. You felt his finger inside you, slowly teasing you. His other hand was unbuttoning your hand and squeezing your right boob. You whined. It already felt good, and he still hasn't started yet.

‘Be good, baby doll… And don’t be too loud.’ He put another two fingers in your wetness. ‘We don’t want somebody to hear us, don’t we?’

He made you moan loud, with his three fingers inside you and a thumb rubbing your clit. You started to squirm under him. You felt like your orgasm was close. And when you had thought that you would finally feel all the pleasure flooding your whole body he pulled his fingers out of you and took his hands.

‘W-Why?’ You whined looking at him. ‘I was close…’

‘I know, baby doll, I know.’ He smiled at you. ‘But I really want to feel you right now and cannot wait any longer.’ He started to unbutton his pants. ‘But, do I have your full consent?’

‘Yes! Of course yes! Please!.’ You were so eager for him. But that was all he needed. In one, quick push he was all inside you.

‘Fuck!’ He whined. ‘You are tight sweetheart. Even if I stretched you! Fuck, Y/N you feel so good.’ He started to move inside you fastly. You felt like you were in seventh heaven. He was definitely an experienced man.

You hugged him tightly, digging your long nails into his arms. You probably ruined his sleeves but you didn’t care. He felt too good to even be bothered by this. You whined and moaned as much as him. The two of you were connected in that dance of passion.

‘Oh! Fuck!’ You moaned. ‘I’m… I’m close!’

‘Don’t hesitate sweetheart.’ He whined. ‘Fuck! Cum for me!’

‘Min! I… Ah!’ You couldn’t say a word. Your orgasm hit you hard, but you felt too good to complain. You came, and he was with you. Your breathing was heavy. He looked at you and smiled.

‘That was something.’ He said after a while, breaking the silence.

‘Yeah… It was.’ You said with a slight rasp in his voice. ‘So… About the assignment…’

‘Don’t ruin the moment sweetheart, please.’ He laughed quietly. ‘You still have to do your assignment… But I am more than sure that you will like the reward after.’

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

masterlist

[canmom]

brain operating notes

the thing with ADHD is that it's super paradoxical. I've spent the last 72 hours or so doing almost nothing but making minute tweaks to this fansub, stuff like hand tracking signs in perspective at 800% zoom. it's the 'hyperfocus', and it can feel like a superpower. only the thing is I have no control over when it kicks in and what it chooses to focus on.

I had work to be done on Friday, work I enjoy and is novel and interesting, but this fansub project just jumped into my brain and took over the wheel and said 'you will not do anything else until this is finished'.

this is why the notion of 'executive function' is useful. I think of it like a unifying thing required to both get myself to do a thing that is not particularly novel or engaging in this moment, and to stop myself doing a thing that engages the hyperfocus because I have to eat or whatever. this feels like a finite resource, that gradually replenishes over time.

of course we're all in metaphor here. I don't actually think there's a finite reserve of some substance that I can use to get me to do things that aren't immediately stimulating. but being equipped with this metaphor lets me think of it like... ok, I will let my brain just do its thing and ride the rollercoaster now, so that I can have the wherewithal to do (difficult but important thing) down the line. or, I've been really pushing myself to do stuff recently, I need to take some time to recover the reserves. how good is this model? i'm not sure. probably not great, but it is a model.

anyway things that trigger hyperfocus are a bit arbitrary but common features tend to be...

novel: a thing that I haven't done before is intrinsically exciting - as long as I have some idea of how to get going. in my previous job I'd find excuses to do stuff like 'animate in Blender' or 'hack the graph drawing tool' just to add a bit of spice to rote tasks. thankfully my current job is full of new exciting things.

a steady drip feed of small successes: a big, daunting task is hard to get started on. something that has a clear avenue for recognisable, steady progress is a lot more manageable. 'write the animation controller' is unclear. 'make another animation' feels like progress, and I know where I'm at with it, so I will tend to choose that one given the option.

urgent: if the deadline is imminent and there really is no other option but to crack on with it, the anxiety gives a force multiplier on executive function. which results in a lot of procrastination leading up to mad last minute crunch. it's a pattern that I hate, not least because it's hard to say how long anything will actually take, but is hard to shake.

social: if it is for the benefit of a friend, or I get to show off a bit, it is way easier to get going with it. is it because I am kinda lonely and any time someone wants to spend time with me it feels like I dare not refuse because who knows when they will again? is it because I love to be praised for doing an impressive thing? idk maybe. however this is double-edged because if I feel I'm making something unimpressive I will be motivated to try and make it bigger and more complex, dragging things out, which might lead to not finishing the thing at all.

you can probably kind of see how computer games are a bit of a cognitohazard. especially open-ended games that don't have a finite built-in endpoint. I've gotten better at managing that now.

there are degrees of hyperfocus. there is the maxed out 'I will not eat or sleep until I finish this' mode. there is also the 'I have a new obsession' mode, which is a bit less intense.

the other thing with hyperfocus is that it is time-limited. at some point you just burn out on it and after that it's really hard to jump back into a thing. the unfinished projects on my hard drive are in most cases things I went nuts over for a few weeks and then dropped like a hot stone. this sucks because making anything worthwhile requires sustained effort over a long period.

I've been trying meds but so far no luck. they've currently got me off the meds taking baseline measurements while they figure out what to try next. though apparently the dose of dexamfetamine they had me on is like... so low that it's not surprising I didn't feel it.

gonna have to ask them about it next time I see them. because right now this whole thing feels like a bit of a mean joke. I'm staying in London for the sake of meds that could help, because it would take upwards of a year to get into another clinic, but what's the point if they're not even giving the meds a real shot?

but if there is any chance I can get working meds, I've got to try for it, because I don't think I'll ever achieve much of anything within the limitations of adhd, at least not without finding some new mechanisms to keep me on track. (though 'if I don't do this I might lose my job/the game won't be as good as it could be' works a bit as an extrinsic motivator)

[adultswim2021]

Robot Chicken #43: “Squaw Bury Shortcake” | August 19, 2007 - 11:30PM | S03E02

Sorry this is late. Friday nights are easy for me to miss. Sorry it missed Saturday Night’s deadline too; tumblr seemed to go down right as I was about to post it. Here it is roughly one day and one hour later than it should be.

Let’s just fucking do this: “Tiny’s Big Problem” is a sketch where a big fat guy on a superhero team that I barely recognize has to lose weight, and he does, and then the punchline is one of his teammates kills him out of jealousy. The fat guy absent-mindedly eating the cardboard that the microwave pizza comes on is a pretty solid fat joke, though. 

“Masturbation MythBusters” doesn’t really make that much sense. They are Mythbusters but they have Ghostbusters proton packs and they suck up a child who is masturbating to bust the myth that he’ll go blind? What’s even supposed to be funny about this? Like, okay, sure, on some basic level the idea of Ghostbusters coming in and zapping a child for jacking off is funny, but the logic here isn’t even pleasingly tortured. Just make them be Ghostbusters and maybe the sperms have little ghosts that need to be busted!!

“Popeye Intervention” is about Popeye having an intervention for–what else?--heroin. I mean, spinach. Popeye is voiced by Dave Coulier (who also voiced “Tiny” in the other sketch). They put an old scratchy film effect over it, spitting in the face of the restoration work currently being done for the Fleischer Bros. cartoon film library. 

“King of the Monsters” This is a parody of Training Day with Ethan Hawke, who voices Godzilla Jr. in this. I’ve never actually seen Training Day, but I know the line “King Kong ain’t got shit on me” which figures into the punchline of the sketch. It’s fine. I guess. I mean, I hated it, but it’s fine.

“Council of Evil Tables” A guy fights Tables. Pretty simple. I don’t hate it but: did I laugh? NO!

“Give a Mouse a Cookie” A mom tells her child a freaking ~tWiStEd~ version of “If You GIve a Mouse a Cookie”, where the Mouse is vampiric and world is nuked into oblivion as a desperate measure to stop the spread of vampires. Could this be a metaphor for the rampant spread of socialism and the mutually assured destruction it will cause? I don’t know! (By the way I’m not a socialist anymore, I’m just going back to being “just some guy”)

“Feel Lucky, Punk?” Is a pretty basic take-off of Dirty Harry asking a “punk” if he feels lucky, and he does! So he goes and has a very luck-luck-lucky crime spree. Seth Green calls this a bad sketch on the commentary. Don’t worry Seth, they are all bad. The wiki says a gag similar to this appeared on Family Guy. I should Family TRY to watch that.

“Bob Barker’s New Gig” is about Bob Barker retiring from Price is Right and becoming a vigilante castrator for stray (and not-so-stray) animals. Snoop Dogg plays himself, transforming from a dog to a human (reference to this music video). Bob sure does sound like Bob, but it’s a soundalike. Commentary reveals that they tried to get him to play himself but he passed… AWAY!!! Hahaha! No, actually, they make that joke on the commentary and he wasn’t dead yet. Sorry everyone. I stole from Robot Chicken. This sketch exemplifies the value of the original DVDs, because the DVD is vastly uncensored and the HBOMax versions are not. Good news for those of you wishing to see mangled stop-motion animal genitals. 

Well, I guess I have to keep watching these for a while. Robot Chicken continues to get charitable bits of faint praise from me. What else is new. 

EPHEMERA CORNER

Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters DVD marathon (August 13, 2007)

The two-disc version of Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters came out on DVD on Tuesday, August 14, 2007. But those who tuned in on Monday Night were treated to an Aqua Teen Hunger Force marathon with episodes interspersed with various things that appeared on the DVD. This included music videos, the “fake endings” and a bunch of other promotional stuff. The second disc of the DVD release contained the Deleted Movie which consisted of deleted material and– oh. FUCK. I promised to review that I’m pretty sure. 

Okay, everyone. This post was a day late, so here’s a BONUS review of THE DELETED MOVIE:

Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters: The Deleted Movie (August 14, 2007)

This was a more interesting watch than I thought it would be, and it’s also a vastly less enjoyable watch. This is an assembly of the movie using predominantly deleted scenes in an exceptionally less-produced state. That means segments from the “Deleted Scenes” episode which were animated fully (perhaps FOR the episode?), are seen here in a less-finished form. Scenes that play out like normal seem to sometimes get a cool alternate view, like the pencil test versions of animation that actually did wind up in the movie.

The story notably starts with the Dr. Weird scene; the one where he talks about his lair being turned into “fucking condos”. It follows the pattern of a typical Aqua Teen episode that way with it’s own Dr. Weird cold open. It goes from said Dr. Weird scene into the opening sequence that we see in the main movie, it just has a bad Dana Synder song playing over it instead. I sincerely wonder if they actually would have used this as the movie opener because it really sucks. 

This version also misses the Egypt prologue as well as the “Let’s All Go Out to the Lobby” bit (and boy do I mean “misses them”). I’m not sure I really made this connection last time, but boy, does this movie ever feel like a sequel to Rabbot. The story is very Rabbot-esque, and it even includes an interlude where Shake ditches the mission at hand to undergo some sort of cosmetic conditioning. In Rabbot it’s getting his hair done. In this it’s getting a tan and teeth whitening. 

This version is also less censored, and some Meatwad’s potty-mouth moments sorta delighted me, I’m not gonna lie. Also neat was seeing a bit in the middle that was just a filmed table-read; apparently there was supposed to be a live-action sequence with an early version of the Bible Fruits as an educational program that appeared on the ATHF TV. This was likely a nod to the puppet shows that Meatwad regularly enjoyed on the TV series. The Bible Fruits were going to be portrayed by actors in costumes, much like the Fruit of the Loom ads that probably no longer exist or are relevant. 

A lot of alternate punchlines, and almost everything in the main movie is better. I can’t think of an example of a scene or jokes that were in here but I wished were in the main film. The movie itself had an alternate punchline: the entire thing turns out to be Meatwad playing with his dolls; like a St. Elsewhere-esque reveal. Meatwad actually has a cup with a crudely-drawn face on it; this was Shake. Dr. Weird turns out to be his father, and then the post-credits scene would’ve featured the same grotesque female Frylock we see in the post-credits scene of the actual movie. So he’s Meatwad’s mom, you see. That’s where the whole “Frylock is a woman” thing was supposed to go. It’s much less explained in the real movie.

I had hoped there was going to be a Dave and Matt commentary on this thing, bug I guess there’s not. The actual movie itself on DVD has a commentary track with Dana Snyder, Fred Armisen, Todd Hansen, and Patti Smith for some reason (she’s a big fan). Typically when you record the commentary track for a motion picture it comes off the tail end of finishing the movie, so the prospect of rewatching it yet again is probably not an attractive one.

Honestly, watching the Deleted Scenes episode is more fun than this, and this doesn’t offer much more than that episode. Sort of an interesting curiosity, but not that enjoyable to watch.

[biisexualemma]

unrequited pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.6k

warnings: anxiety, panic attack? i guess kind of

requested: yea a few people asked for this lol

plot: you haven’t seen peter for weeks and start to worry about him

a/n: i finished re-writing this late last night and i’ll be honest with you i haven’t checked it over so sorry if there are any mistakes but i’m tired sis goodnight! lmk if you like this! pls comment / share!

pt.1 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

"ned... you're so wrong for so many reasons," m.j.'s expression was flat, her eyes rolling before she continued to fight ned on who was really the strongest avenger. you were supposed to be working on a group project for your history class but somehow the topic of the avengers came up and the conversation derailed. ned was making a, somewhat, compelling case for the hulk but m.j. was clearly winning with her argument for wanda.

"nobody even knows the full extent of her powers... and the hulk? what? he's gonna smash some more?"

you sat quietly, chin in the palm of your hand, listening in and out of the conversation. you didn't really feel much like contributing. you would occasionally chime in to support m.j. but mostly you just heard the noise of their bickering and let it happen.

you didn't want to be that person, but your mind was (much to your frustration) completely consumed with thoughts of peter. and at the worst time, you had so many tests coming up, and essay deadlines were also creeping up on you. usually you were on top of this stuff, but your mind was preoccupied almost all the time.

because of peter, who was no where to be seen. in the past few weeks he had stopped showing up to school all together. ned said it was something to do with tony stark but you had a feeling it was more than that. you didn't know how to explain it.

you hadn't spoken to him in a long time now, and you didn't exactly leave things on good terms. it was the longest you'd gone without talking since peter called you a poopy head in the third grade.

you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. especially since you had no idea what he was getting up to, peter was known to get himself into some messes when he was left to his own devices. and you just knew ned was lying to cover for his best friend but that only made you feel even more out of the loop.

everything felt a bit off without peter around, like something was missing. that, on top of the guilt and worry you were feeling, was turning your head to mush. last time you'd spoken to peter, he was erratic and wounded and desperate. something bad had to have happened for him to be gone this long.

the bell rang, signalling the end of your last period for the day, and the rest of the week seeing as it was a friday. you snapped out of your daze, jolting as your eyes focused back on your surroundings.

"what time did you say again, y/n?" your eyes drifted to m.j. who was collecting her notes on her desk, her eyes meetings yours, waiting for your answer. a crease formed between your eyebrows, you hadn't heard a word of the conversation before right now. m.j. seemed to realise this, rolling her eyes at you with a playful smile. you did this a lot lately, she was getting used to it. "homecoming? what time did you want to meet tonight?"

"oh," you nodded, still sitting at your desk as your classmates hustled around you. "right, homecoming— i— uh—"

"tell me you're still coming," ned interrupted, his eyes wide suddenly, clearly desperate that your answer was anything but no. "c'mon we've had this planned for ages!"

"no— yeah— of course i am," you nodded quickly to reassure him. "yeah— sorry— i just spaced. is seven good for you guys?"

they hummed in response, nodding.

you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, still in a slight haze with all these thoughts running through your head about peter. you couldn't think about homecoming, it seemed trivial now compared to the worst case scenarios running through your mind. maybe you could try to call peter again? you thought to yourself as you quickly left the classroom, forgetting about m.j. and ned and homecoming, your muscle memory alone leading you to your locker.

you swapped out your books from your bag with the ones you needed to study from for your biology test next week. after slamming the locker door shut, a familiar face was met with yours.

"jesus," you muttered as he stood inches away from your face, your heart racing from the shock. clutching your books to your chest, after nearly having a heart attack, you let out a loud sigh and furrowed your eyebrows. "peter? where the hell have you been?" you regained some of your composure, enough to find some anger in you towards him. he was the last person you were expecting to see today.

"you're ok?" his usual soft brown eyes looked sunken and tired, his hair was scruffier than usual and his lips chapped as they hung open, his eyes scanning over you.

your mouth hung open to speak but he just shook his head as if answering his own question. he gripped your forearm, urging you to walk with him. you dug in your heels, yanking your arm back, wanting him to slow down and explain before you went anywhere with him. "will you just walk," he muttered sharply when you tried to resist him. "please," he softened quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

you frowned, uncomfortably shifting the stack of books in your arms as peter pulled you along behind him hastily. you watched his eyes shifting about the hallway as students weaved around the two of you, his grip not loosening for a second. he was definitely up to something stupid and dangerous that he absolutely should not be involved in.

he'd dragged you all the way out into the parking lot, pulling you aside and away from the crowd of people.

"what's going on? why do you look like— i mean no offence but— you look like crap," you couldn't help but show some level of concern. no matter how complicated your feelings were for him at the moment, he was still your best friend, and he looked like hell. you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him.

"i need you to just— stop talking and listen to me," the look in his eyes made your heart beat a bit faster, your eyes darting between his trying to understand his urgency. "you're not safe—"

"no— i'm fine—" you were never very good at doing what you were told. you glanced down at yourself, perfectly safe and standing in front of him. "see?—"

"no— no you're not," he gulped, his eyes darting away from yours for a split second. "i'm taking you home and you have to stay there. ok? please."

his voice was horse, cracking when he spoke. you didn't understand any of it. peter was the friendly neighbourhood spider-man, what the hell had he gotten himself into that had him this worked up?

you tilted your head slightly, he couldn't think you'd blindly do whatever he said. you needed some answers. "pete," you mumbled, shaking your head with a faint frown. "can't you just tell me what's going on? you're kinda' scaring me."

"i screwed up," his face contorted, his eyes screwing shut for a second and his nose scrunching. you were glued to him, following his mixed expressions trying to understand what was going through his head. he took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "and i know you— you hate me and the last thing you wanna' do is listen to me but i need you to do this for me."

"alright," you said after a moments hesitation. you just wanted him to relax. all your pent up anger and hurt that you'd felt over peter had dissipated quite quickly. you were too occupied with trying to ease some of his stress, and if that meant becoming a homebody for a few days, you would do it. "alright— don't worry. i've been putting off my english essay for a week now anyway, it's about time i cracked down on it."

you tried to ease the tension, act like he wasn't asking much of you. he let out a heavy sigh, looking over at you with those brown eyes. "it's homecoming tonight, i know w—"

"is it?" you feigned forgetfulness, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. you shrugged. "i was never one for socialising anyway."

peter knew you better than that. he knew what he was asking you to give up. "i'm sorry," he took a step closer to you, his hands hovering in front of you, unsure that you wanted him to touch you. "i'm sorry you got dragged into this."

your eyes lingered on his hands before you pulled back up to his stare. you pursed your lips and shrugged. "i'd feel better about it if i knew what i was getting dragged into," you pulled away from your conversation for a second to slip your books into your bag. "walk me home and you can explain everything."

and he did. he told you all about the vulture, the weapons, what really happened during the decathlon trip. all of it. right up to when the vulture figured out his identity— which lead to him finding out about aunt may, about his friends, and about you. he told you about how he'd spent the past few weeks figuring out where the vulture's next major deal was being held, how he'd messed up so bad and how mr stark had taken his suit.

by the time he'd finished, your mouth hung open slightly. you didn't know how he'd been dealing with all of this by himself. spider-man helped old ladies cross the street and returned stolen bicycles, he didn't fight men in bird costumes to stop illegal sales of dangerous advanced weapon tech.

"peter, this sounds pretty dangerous," you spoke up after he told you about his plan to intercept the vulture's airplane heist. "don't you think you should just call happy? or tony? this sounds like iron man territory."

"i can't do that," he sighed. "besides, i already tried happy— he's not taking my calls right now. something about a time out."

you let out a heavy sigh, having taken everything in that he'd told you. you had reached your door, peter standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. you motioned for him to come in but he hesitated, opening his mouth to decline. "c'mon," you grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "this heist isn't happening 'til late tonight. you can keep me company 'til then."

"maybe, get some rest, too, you really do look like hell," he let you pull him inside, following behind you. he ignored the second dig you had now made about his appearance.

"may must've been pretty mad when she found out you'd been skipping school?" you collapsed onto your bed, crossing your legs over and watching peter perch himself on the edge of your bed. he leaned forward, his hand running over his face with sheer exhaustion.

"you have no idea," he groaned, holding his head up with the palm of his hand now. "i'm pretty much grounded for the rest of the year. and i have to send her a pic' of me sitting in every one of my classes from now on," you nodded, pursing your lips because that sounded about right. "but mainly she was worried."

"well, she wasn't the only one," he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes lingering there for a while. you breathed through your nose, looking away from him and down to your hands to give yourself a moment. you'd forgotten how difficult it was to have him look at you like that. "you just took off with no word, peter."

he turned his gaze away from you, focusing on the wall in front of him, his eyes glossy. for weeks that last conversation with you had been sitting at the back of his mind. he knew he'd handled everything in the worse possible way. he tried to protect you, hurt you by doing so, and then had everything he tried to protect you from blow up in his face anyway.

"i haven't been able to think clearly for weeks," you gulped, scared to meet his gaze again, in fear that you might lose your confidence. "i missed you. and i was worried out of my mind about you."

"y/n—" his voice was quiet.

"and i know i was the one who told you to leave. but i was hurt and sad. i'd convinced myself that you felt the same way, and when you—" you closed your eyes for a second, feeling him watching you. you hadn't been able to say any of this out loud for weeks and now it was just spilling out of you. "anyway— i shouldn't've punished you for that. they are my feelings i need to get over. it wasn't your fault and i'm sorry i made it seem like it was."

he shook his head faintly, sniffling slightly, catching your attention. "i screwed up," he shook his head a little harder, pushing himself up off your bed, his back turned to you. "i screwed up so bad," he ran his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. your eyebrows knitted. "it wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"don't," you shook your head, willing him to stop. "it's not your fault. i shouldn't have—"

he cut you off, turning to face you as he did. "i'm in love with you," his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes now stinging red. "i was in love with you then, and i'm in love with you now. i think i always will be."

your eyebrows unknitted, your mouth opening to speak but nothing came out. you watched his hand tug on the ends of his curls, his eyes locked onto you the entire time, trying to read your expression.

"i was trying to protect you and it went completely wrong—" his breathing was erratic. "i thought you'd be safer if i distanced myself—" the look on his face was breaking your heart. he knew how stupid it all sounded now he explained it out loud. "i screwed everything up— and now you're in more danger than ever— because of me."

"you— you—" your brain was trying to keep up. you shook your head. you had spent the past month telling yourself that everything you thought he'd felt for you wasn't real, that you'd over thought everything he'd ever done for you. you'd been telling yourself for a month to move on. "you didn't screw up, pete. i know you. whatever you did, you did for the right reasons."

the lump in your throat was growing as you tried to keep some kind of composure. it wouldn't do either of you any good to get upset with him when he was worked up like this. he didn't need to be told he'd made a mistake, he was already painfully aware.

"you don't— you—but— i—" he was hyperventilating, completely vulnerable as he fell apart in front of you.

"pete," you mumbled carefully, climbing over to where he was stood, hand in his hair and he pulled on the loose curls, his eyes wide with anxiety and stress. you moved your hands to his, pulling them down to his side and giving them a small squeeze. "calm down," you cooed. "everything will be ok."

you trailed your hands up to his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling him into a tight hug. you wrapped your arms 'round his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair. his head ducked, burying into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate grip. his breathing was heavy at first, uneven and jagged as he clung onto you. your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it, but you held onto him as tight as you could, pressing your whole body against his trying to offer him as much comfort as you could.

after a while of standing around, holding each other, peter's breathing began to grow softer and slower. he began to notice the sweet scent lingering on your skin. his lips innocently hovering over the curve of your neck, breath fanning against your skin. you could feel goosebumps growing on your skin, the hair of your arms standing on end.

"better?" you mumbled softly. he gave you a faint nod in response, his lips leaving your skin as he pulled himself back from you. your hand slipped from in between his curls and down to the neck, your thumb brushing over his skin as he looked straight into your eyes. you gulped, eyelids fluttering.

he was a state to behold. his nose was pink, under eyes wet, your eyes trailed down to where his lips parted. he hiccuped a breath. you tried to push away the impulse to kiss him because he was clearly vulnerable. you didn't want him to later regret anything. "thanks," he mumbled breathlessly. "i don't know what happened there."

you pouted your lips, about to reply when peters eyes fluttered down your face, catching you off guard. his eyes lingered and you noticed his head tilting down and nearer, his lips catching onto yours before you could register what was happening. it was soft, gentle and didn't last longer than a couple seconds before you had to force yourself to pull away.

"peter— you're overwhelmed right now so maybe we shouldn—"

your whispers against his lips where cut short, he pressed his lips to yours again. unable to resist now he'd had a taste. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest. you swallowed a gasp, feeling his full weight behind the second kiss. his lips pushed against yours a little more desperately this time, you fell back a step, peter's arms where the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

both your hands where either side of his neck, trailing up into his hair where you pulled softly at the roots of his messy curls. he let out a soft moan against your lips, and you stumbled back once more, your thighs hitting your bed.

your hands quickly slipped down to his chest as you gently pried him off you. your head was spinning a little, his lips were plump and pink and the way he looked at you, with pure love and obsession, made you want to kiss him again and again.

"did you mean it?" you muttered breathlessly.

his eyes trailed back up from your lips, his gaze locking with yours again. he noticed the vulnerability and fear in your eyes now that he was paying you his full attention. he felt a wave of guilt hit him, knowing he was the one that put that look there.

"yeah," he hummed. "i did," he said with his chest. "i do. always will," he was breathless.

"you're not just saying it 'cause you've missed me?"

he shook his head quickly, shutting down any traces of doubt in your mind. "i have been in love with you since that summer we took that trip to coney island when you threw up after you ate too much cotton candy."

your scrunched up your nose at the memory. "gross."

he shrugged. "i don't know what to tell you. that's just when i knew."

your lips twitched into a small smile. "you should probably get some rest," you diverted the topic, trying hard not to kiss him again. he looked so tired. he had poured out months worth of anxiety and stress all in the past ten minutes. "you can't chase bad guys if you're half asleep."

he wore a half-hearted smile, his mind clearly flickering back to the task he had to take on later tonight.

"you can crash here if you want," you motioned to your bed.

"y'sure? i don't wanna get you in trouble."

"mom's working late, so you're good. plus she loves you, pete," your hands slipped down to his, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"sure she'll still love me when she finds out about us?" he quirked an eyebrow, the small smile on his lips was sloped and tired.

"m'sure," you hummed, biting back your growing smile at the word us. you moved him to sit on your bed again, his hands lazily holding yours. his eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you, a small crease forming between his eyebrows again. you could tell his mind was wandering again. "lie down, you need to rest or you're no good to anyone."

he nodded hesitantly and followed your instruction. "i'll sleep better with you next to me."

his voice was soft after you'd turned your back on him to leave him to rest. you rolled your eyes faintly, smile tugging your lips again. "is that right?"

he hummed, his arms outstretched, waiting for you to fall into them. you dragged your feet back over to him, biting the inside of your cheek, the corner of your lip twitching upwards. "there's a scientific reason behind it but my brain's too sleepy to think right now, so you'll have to take my word for it."

his words slurred together, his eyes rolling slightly the longer he forced them open. you just nodded. "alright, spidey, just this once."

"hm," he hummed as you climbed in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and immediately pulling you against his chest. "thanks," he muttered, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "don't know what i'd do without you."

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(my saddle’s waiting) ride it

Iwaizumi “Big Guns” Hajime x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Being ridiculous in front of your crush. Porn With Plot. Not researched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Oral in a public space (bathroom); Cock-blocked Interrupted orgasms; Masturbation/fingering; Fingering  in public (street), then while driving. Driving while fingering? Unsafe driving. Fucking against a door, then a wall. Alcohol and mentions of drugs. Side Tendou/Oikawa. Bit of a teasing, overconfident Iwachan.  A poor excuse of oblivious colleagues to lovers.

Word count: WAY TOO BIG. +11k.

Note: 🤠 Brought by your wicked duo degenerates, Saint Dymphna and me:  LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠 electric bogaloo

You guys know the drill @dymphnasprose​ started this all with their tempting ways! It was the image of Iwaizumi all oiled up,  working in his garage like Channing Tatum that made me cave and do this. Once again, being with Dymph is nothing short of amazing and I LOVE THEM  🥺💕💕

This is wayyyy too ploty for something where I just wanted people to bang, but you guys know how I get with Iwaizumi. I’m not totally happy about how this turned out but honestly I have no time to work on it and it has to be out. You guys will realize I went full myself with Reader’s crush on Iwaizumi in this. Sorry not sorry.

Biiig, huuuuuge thanks to both @vanille--kiss​ and @oneblonded​ for their help in beta-ing this, you guys are incredible.  💕 As always a big thanks to @mixedhell​ who always helps me when I’m troubled <3

Iwa’s song: Pony (of course)

You can also read: MAKKI | MATTSUN 

You check your phone and realize you’re late… again.

You hate, hate, hate morning classes, but if you want to be in time for your internship and still have time to study and, well, live, you’re obligated to accept the first class of the day on a Friday. You hate it, and you hate it even more that it’s how you have to end your week but you’ve made peace with it. 

That doesn’t mean you can actually get there in time, reason why you’re twenty minutes late running with your keys and coffee in one hand while you try to balance both your books and your backpack with the other. And when you push the door with your hip, it makes a loud squeaking noise while opening, ruining both your quiet entry and bringing everyone’s eyes on you, of course, because when have you ever been granted a fucking break, right?

“Sorry!” You murmur while trying your best into making a curt bend, and your professor looks over his glasses to you in a very pointed manner but other than that he  resumes what he was speaking on before.

You know he hates you being late (especially as a repeat offender) but you’re a fairly participative student and you regularly earn one of his top grades, so you think that buys you some slack -- and leverage. You go to your habitual seat by the wall, and try your best not making any other noises while you set everything in their places and, thankfully, a moment later, you’re able to breathe while in your seat, with your open computer and notes ready. You give yourself about twenty seconds to drink a bit of your coffee and check out where in the topic the professor is lecturing about.

“That’s why Iwaizumi-san will be receiving your papers. I’ll be returning to the next week, and in the time being, he’ll be doing the full TA hours. If you have any questions just ask him and remember to schedule appointments before-hand, if possible.” Your professor states something that makes it clear you lost some important announcement at the beginning of the class and your eyes fly to Iwaizumi in response, but the man is just sitting at his normal place, front class, quietly nodding to the professors’ explanation while his big hands fly over his notepad. 

You sigh, wistfully, and take another sip of your coffee while your eyes thread over his form, clad in loose jeans that still seem tight in those amazing thighs of his and a hoodie that doesn’t do much to hide those incredible arms. Iwaizumi isn’t very tall, but he’s still taller than you and his shoulders are broad enough to engulf anything behind him when you stand too close. God, you wished Iwaizumi would do full TA hours on you anytime. He could work you into overtime too, you certainly don’t mind. 

You gulp down the saliva that overflows your mouth with some coffee and leaves another small breath to accompany your thoughts. 

You snicker just a bit and Iwaizumi’s eyes are suddenly on yours and your blood pressure peaks in a second while you choke on your coffee. Your teacher asks if you’re okay and you are obligated to answer yes while trying to shrink into the chair. 

See. Incredible track-record.

You manage to not make a complete clown of yourself during class again and even win over some praise from your professor for your contributions in the debate about ethical issues and patient safety. It’s usual that you and Iwaizumi end up interacting with each other’s input in debates but he was quiet today and when you’ve made an addition to his comment about unhelpful patients and mandatory rest all he did was nod and roll his jaw. As if you know what the fuck that means.

You chalk it up to him stressing over being in full TA hours for the week and when the class ends you stay in your seat while finishing typing some notes before you blink and they’re suddenly lost in your brain. When you look up and start packing your things you realize there’s only you and Iwaizumi left in the class and notice he’s looking directly at you, almost as if he was waiting for it.

You don’t think there’s another man who can look so dashing before ten am and with just a small corner lip smile, but hey, you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he says a one-word greeting and holds his hand up and your heart leaps before you can manage to send a smile his way. Ah, it’s really unfair how cute he is. 

“Hey Iwa,” you greet back in a fair tone even if you feel a bit hot in the face, “You were unusually quiet today.”

He smirks and his hand clasps his neck for a moment while he scratches his hair. “Aa, just busy.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to you while you’re still packing your books. “You lost the warning, right?” 

“Yeah, late. Something important?”

“Nothing big. It’s the deadline for the midterm article, which you lost the explanation to but here--” He extends you his open notepad and you see the notes and instructions there, scribbled in block letters not very neatly, but fairly organized. You look it over briefly, confirm that is nothing different from the normal and bring your phone to take a picture. 

“Thanks, Iwa. Do you need any help with the TA hours?”

“Nah. It’s all fine. I organized my internship last month to have this week off.”

“Oh, smart,” you say as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your purse and the single book that couldn’t fit with your laptop in it. Iwaizumi makes you nervous. You’re fairly sure it’s because of the massive fucking crush you have on him. “Well, let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks,” you notice that he stays there looking at you for a second more... And then a few seconds more. 

“Is everything okay?

“You’ve been getting to class late a lot,” his eyes turn wide when he realizes what he just blurted out and the small pink dust atop his cheeks could be the thing that ends up killing you. Your brain gets lost in a chant of CUTECUTECUTE and for a moment you resist the urge to clench your books to your chest. “The professor asked me to see if everything was okay.”

“Oh, ah…” You actually force a bit of laugh out at that, surprised and a bit breathless. Dammit, you monitor two classes and then suddenly being a little bit late becomes a crime. “It’s nothing, actually. I’m just not a morning person. And I hate early classes, but I needed to get this one because of my internship, so I’m struggling with the time.”

Iwaizumi nods and even gives you a short smile while you two start walking alongside one another out of the class. “Ah, you should really fix your sleep schedule. You know the drill, eight hours every night.”

“You mean that impossible thing?” You laugh and thank him when he opens the door for you two to pass. Hot and a gentleman, God really has favorites. “I’m trying, but it’s easier said than done and I’m something of a night owl.”

“Brat. You’re just on your phone until late,” Iwaizumi snickers and you all but gasp, and before you can say anything he’s signaling to the other side you’re going. “I still have classes, see you on the TA hours?”

“Yeah, I have two days of TA next week,” you manage to squeak out without making a fool of yourself after he calls you a brat and even smiles his way despite the way you feel a sudden heat wave over your body.

“Nice. See you then.”

“Bye Iwa.”

You scurry off the other side and when you turn a corner you stop and do something absolutely ridiculous that is an internal scream with your head against the wall. You press your forehead against the cold tile and breathe about two or three times, all while your mind goes into overheat after a small talk with Iwaizumi Hajime, the hottest, most amazing Teacher Assistant this Physical Therapy course must have ever had.  

You hear someone saying your name while you try to recover and when you look to your side your heart sinks to your stomach as your eyes turn into plates. Hajime is looking at you funny, holding out a small paper to you and probably wondering if you’re okay in the head. Of course it’s him. It wouldn’t be you if this didn’t happen. 

“Ahhh, hi again?” You squeeze out in a weird breathless voice and Iwaizumi’s eyes seem to turn a pretty dark shade while his lips spread in a grin.

“You let this fall.” 

Sure, of course, you dumbass did. 

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks, Iwa. I was uhhh just…” You press your lips because your mind is blank and then God decides to cut you some slack with a momentaneous brilliance. “I forgot an important thing was due tonight and yeah, I was just screaming at myself.”

“Anything I can help with?” 

Yes. Marry me. Or just fucking, you’re not picky. 

Your whole face burns and you lower your eyes for a moment because the images assaulting you are just too much. Iwaizumi looks just so good up close, all sharp jawline and hard planes on that spiky jet-black hair and green eyes. Jesus Christ, looking like that should be illegal.

“No, it’s just something for this bachelorette party I have tonight.” God decides to grace you with some more lying skills and you thank them internally. There’s even a smile on your face. 

Iwaizumi nods away with your explanation.

 “Ohh,” He says with a smirk and your heart does a leap. “That’s nice. Give the bride my congrats.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her.” Then, he extends the paper again and you finally grab it, once again making a fool of yourself to him. “Sorry, thanks for this.” 

Iwaizumi just nods and smiles your way, quickly turning back and leaving after saying goodbye and waving your way. This time you have half a mind to search a bathroom before screaming for real.

-

Honestly, you cannot believe where you are right now. Lawbreakers. The name is written in a pretty calligraphy font in bright fucking neon that simply demands attention in the dark of night. It’s the final stop of the bachelorette party of your good friend to which you are late. From the group text, everyone is at least nicely buzzed and you’ve been laughing with the ridiculous pictures the group of women have been sending you non-stop while calling you a buzzkill. 

As your car pulls into the front of the place, you just can’t help but snort. It’s cheesy, definitely tacky but nice, a use of the western theme that actually plays well. 

Outside there’s a neon cowboy riding a horse and you just… can’t help but be amused. There’s a small line of women waiting even when it’s already late but you walk up front as your friend had told you too, perks of being a member of the VIP entourage of women partying in the allegedly last night for your friend to be free. 

The doorman lets you in quickly and just as you’re passing the threshold a tall, pretty and lean, but built man clad in nothing but a white outfit rolls to your side, offering a flute of sparkling wine from a tray.

“Well, look at that.” The smile he sends you is trained, but charming and you can’t help but smile back. “We truly do have the prettier customers. Can I offer you some champagne? Maybe something stronger?”

You’re just bringing your hand up to say no when you stop, muse about how much catching up you’ll have to do with your friends inside and shrugs. “Well, better get a head start, right?”

“Yes!” He congratulates you, standing too close as he brings you a flute and deposits on your fingers, his hand trailing on your pulse for a moment before he lets go. Then, he throws you another charming smile, the mischief reaching his eyes this time. “That’s a good girl~”

You try to hide the way his charm works by letting your mouth fall in a small laugh, but something tells you he catches that either way. That, you think, is what you call a seasoned pleaser.

“Thank you.” 

Your cheeks are heating the tiny bit as you scurry off the corridor to the club insides, following the loud music and increasingly louder screams.

“Enjoy the show!” The man chuckles behind you and you raise your glass in acknowledgment, hurrying inside to do just that. 

Honestly, it’s not what you were expecting. 

As you pass the wooden saloon doors at the end of the corridor, the sound of screaming surrounds you as physical waves, washing through your body in such a high pitch you stumble in your heels. The energy inside makes you unable to not enjoy yourself automatically, surrounded by tables of women and a few groups of men all completely enthralled on the show that’s already happening inside.

For starters, western decoration aside, you were definitely not expecting to see your friend, the bride-to-be, being grinded on stage. 

The strawberry-blonde male is thrusting against the center of your friend's legs, precise and exciting wave-like motions that clearly are making everyone inside, your friend included, lose their minds. He grinds and holds himself up, moves your friend around as if she’s a doll and humps her behind. It looks so sinful and still in perfect beat with the song and for a second your mind just-- short circuits, hand shooting to your mouth as the laughs tip over loud and hearty. Your friend is burning in embarrassment at the way the man is moving and grinding on her, hands almost locked on her body as if she thinks she can’t move or something will just blow up. 

Then again maybe she’s the one who’ll blow up, being so close to such a fucking hot man. You can definitely see how that would make her blow a fuse, completely not used to this kind of thing. 

You manage to stop laughing at your friend losing it on stage and quickly spot the table, the balloons that have been featured in lots of pictures making themselves seen: bright teal things stating “one dick forever”. Every single one dressed in black and with their current bright plastic cowboy hat. It could be worse; if the place wasn’t so fitting with it’s bright lights and mixed decorations ranging from cowboy neon signs and saddles in place of stools.

By the time you manage to walk over amidst the screaming and join in on the girls fun, the showman has finally let your friend go in prol of fishing another happy bride and she looks every bit completely shaken as you’ve thought.

“Hey, baby, you good?” The slit in her white dress is higher, clearly a side effect of the way the man hiked her legs just so…open, and you chuckle at how she huffs a breath out and let herself fall against the cushions, both parts pent up and mortified. 

Well, you’re already liking the place. 

Then, one of the other bridesmaids presses a full plastic flute of champagne to your hand, calls everyone up to a toast and you let yourself fall back into the festivities. Your friend seems to be having a hard time coming back from the heated grinding session in the middle show, to which she excuses herself from the table and reassures everyone that she’s fine. Still, you pull her on the side, ask her once again if she’s okay, to which she just explains she needs some air.

God, you understand.

You were about to follow her when another bridesmaid pulled you into a hug, happily chatting about how this place was incredible, and trying to fill you in on the fun you missed by being late. Your eyes accompany your friend for a moment, seeing as she walks a bit clumsy but otherwise fine to the corridor that leads to the bathroom. Well, she would be fine.

The current show ends and the lights glow brighter, finally allowing you to check out the place. The Lawbreakers Club is nice and full; filled to the brim with groups of women and men around and apparently yours is not the only bachelorette party taking place in the western-themed strip bar. The waiters are wearing skimpy little clothing, the place decorated as a cross-theme of magic mike and an imitation of a western saloon.

Then, before you can even finish the current drink you have in your hands,  the lights go down once again while the stage is lightened up in bright neon. You’re all close enough and with an amazing stage view to catch when a very tall, very pretty, brunette who welcomed you earlier comes to the middle of the stage. 

The crowd goes immediately wild as the song is lowered to a simple mumble in the background and the man walks slowly to the center stage, open hands and the devastating smile of someone who knows they’re all that and more. 

Bit obnoxious but hey, there’s a literal horde of women screaming for him. You’d say it’s acceptable.

“Well, well, well, look like we have a full house tonight.”

The screaming reignites, sounding even louder since they also come from your own table and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Are you guys ready for the next show?” The crowd screams a resonant yes. “Good. Let us make a lot of noise for two of our best, biggest outlaws around.” As the cheers erupted once again, you can actually hear some names being called, all revolving around names with big, pretty or animals thrown around. 

“Did someone actually scream for Issei Horsecock?” You ask the bridesmaid closer to you and both of you laugh when she says yes. “Oh, wow.”

 “Yes, yes, you know the ones. Now, let’s make our Big Guns flustered with the warm welcome, you know what a big softie he actually is under all that hard, big, brute exterior.” It’s actually enthralling to see Oikawa dealing with the crowd, you can’t help but laugh away at his faces and double meaning. Then he stops, winks at the crowd and goes, “Maybe he just needs a ride. So, ride it, ponies.”

It’s clear the announcement everyone was waiting for, as the crowd loses right there. The lights are once again focused on the stage, dripping low as the music picks up in a sexy beat as two big, broad and athletic men make their ways to the center stage, Oikawa nowhere to be seen anymore.  

You cannot believe your eyes. You blink them once but then become completely unable to tear your vision from the image unfolding in front of you even for a second. The men comes to the front of the stage, holds onto the pole dance and undulates in a sinful, unholy trusting motion that has your mouth watering and he falls backwards with his hand supporting himself as his legs part on the metal pole and he keeps trusting in time with the bass, a honest-to-god mimic of sex that has you swalowing dry and drooling, your body heating up at the simple images that ellicit in your brain. 

He does a twirl in the air, falls in a plank and holds a hand up to hold his cowboy hat all while supporting his body in only one hand. He undulates in thrust motions, twerk his ass in the air before pressing down and takes his hat off his head as a display of strength you never in your mind thought would get you this bothered. 

His jet black hair is short and spiky, mussed by sweat and you immediately licks your lips at the salacious thought of licking it up from his skin. He falls with his back on the floor, start once again to proove just how fucking incredible it would be to ride him and then gets up in one single jump that knocks the air of your lungs. 

You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand. 

And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.

Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream. 

Yours, to be even more specific. 

It’s clear he doesn’t see you with the dimly lit room and the crew of women chanting. You’re sitting dumbfounded, mouth agape and blood reeling enough that your forehead seems like it will explode, but also feeling as if you’re suspended in a haze - as if Iwaizumi’s body undulating on the air as he holds himself on a pole is something of a spell and you’re definitely sucked in by it.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you, as his show’s ending and the lights around the stage start shining once again. It’s painfully clear how Iwaizumi tenses from the realization, his eyes falling wide and curses tipping from his beautiful lips, the top of his cheekbones lighting up as he all but runs from the front of the crowd and in a moment you’re mirroring his embarrassment, face heating at the bizarre situation you’re finding yourself into. 

Your TA is a stripper. And a very good, famous one at that. 

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information?

It’s almost an hour and about three shows later where you’re filling your head pounding by the beat, unable to relax even as delicious men pass through your table and play with your friends. 

You feel tense, paranoid at what exactly has happened and where Iwaizumi may be, stomach turning and unresponsive as you try to sooth it with booze until you give up, rising on unsteady legs. Muscles strained from how long you’ve been sitting still, afraid to look anywhere and be slapped across the room with some other shocking news.

You take a deep breath as you balance yourself once again on your heels and walk to the bathroom for some needed cool-down, latching on the opportunity when another show is already rolling, a hot but unapproachable-looking man with blond hair and streaks on it owning the stage as if it’s his territory.

As you’re turning on the corridor, however, you’re circled by big arms and yanked from the ground, a yelp turning into silence as you take one look around and find dark green eyes boring into yours, a harsh look on Iwaizumi’s face that make you embarrassed at what it does to your guts.

He scurries off with you inside a place that looks like a private room, fairly dark with red lights around and a ominous pole-dance stage in the middle that makes your mind overheat at the images it summons: the man in front of you clad in nothing but a black jeans rolling his hips up into the air as if daring you to take a ride.

Well, shit.

Iwaizumi’s arms leave your sides and you stumble a bit, eyes diverting down as your face burns. You realize he takes that the wrong way when he sounds gruff and pissed. 

“What? Can’t even look at me now?” 

You look up in time to catch his arms crossing around his front. You wish he didn’t do that, as now you have one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen all angry-looking with bulging arms oiled and shining, clad in nothing but removable pants, leather chaps, vest and a black cowboy hat. 

You groan something unintelligible as you lose the ability to speak and Iwaizumi’s expression turns sour, lips pressed so hard it almost seems like he’s pouting, his hard eyes looking anxious and downcast. 

That’s what helps your brain kickstart, completely unable to see Iwaizumi looking remotely sad and acutely aware of how this must be taxing on him.

“Sorry, I-- It’s not you,” You wince as his eyes center on you, unimpressed, “I mean it! It’s just-- I was caught off guard.”

Iwaizumi makes a humming noise and centers his eyes on you as if he’s waiting for you to keep going but your brain is completely blank, staring at him with wide eyes and burning surprise. You have to make a serious effort to avoid letting your eyes wander his frame.

“So,” you start, unable to handle the silence and Iwaizumi groans, pulling his cowboy hat off to thread fingers over his hair in a nervous display that you’re sure he did not mean to be sexy but ends up being anyway. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Shit. What are you even doing here?”

“Bachelorette party,” you answer without missing a beat and he all but groans again, as if just remembering is an actual thing that exists- and probably gives him lots of money if tonight was anything to go by. 

The clear display of his anxiety actually helps you get a bit more at ease, and you can’t help but crackle an awkward smile. “So... you work here.”

“Yes,” Hajime brutal honesty shows he’s regaining his composure. “It’s good money if you work well and the hours are flexible.”

Not the only thing that’s flexible. You bite your lips at the thought to stop the words from actually spilling from your lips.

“I take it you're not public about this?”

“As little as I can considering the pictures and social media. The club is kinda famous, too.”

“I noticed.”

The silence stretches for a moment as Iwaizumi looks around nervously, his stance unmoving. You take a deep breath and sigh, lips falling in an odd, astonished smile. “Wow, Iwa, that’s…”

“What?” He bites back, defensive. You just end up chuckling, long breath falling from your lips as you look at him and can’t help but be once again dumbfolded at how fucking perfect this man is.

“Nothing, it’s just-- I would never expect it. It’s amazing, though. You’re amazing.” You wince at your own words and how telling they are, but carry on despite the burning on your face. “You seemed like a completely different person out there.” 

Definitely not the quiet TA you’re used to. Definitely still completely gorgeous.

Your body tenses as your heart does somersaults in your chest, hunger flaring enough that your throat constricts and your face burns once again.

“Don’t you think it's bad?” It comes out a bit strained, his eyes trained on you, tense and vulnerable. And you just about fall deeper for him right there. 

“Why? It’s your work.” You try your best smile, and after a little consideration Hajime’s shoulders finally seem to relax, lips jutting up just a bit as he breathes deep.

“No one in the university can know though,” Iwaizumi says quickly, eyes on yours with a little, tiny smirk. “Obvious reasons.”

That makes you giggle.

“Of course. I’ll keep your secret.” You agree in earnest, honest and clear, and this time when you smile at him, your whole body warms at how his eyes fall down to look at it. 

“Good.” His voice goes down a tone, husky and gruff- and making unspeakable things to your already poor state. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your heart seems to shoot up to your throat, and you try to squeeze words out around it.

“I… uh… yes, I mean, sure. It was… quite incredible.”

“Really.” Hajime smirks and you try to swallow your heart before you choke. 

His green eyes stare deeply at your face, drinking the burning on your cheeks, the quick beat of your pulse on your throat, the pursed, wet lips and the way you tremble when he all but takes a step closer. You brace yourself, eyes lifting from the ground to center on him and the sticky, hot sensation spreads through your lower limbs at the burning heat you find there.

“Well, there’s another one to be done.” That tone comes again and you’re forced to press your legs just a tiny bit closer, suddenly aware of the fact you’re both alone in a dark room. He takes another step closer and your eyes fall on his lips, smirk starting to split his face in two, “Stick around.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and Hajime’s eyes turn darker. 

"Iwa-channn~'' 

It's so close it sounds loud from across the half-opened door and Iwaizumi seems to fall back on himself, annoyance furrowing his brows. He takes another deep, heated look on you but tears his eyes away before you can’t say anything.

“Sorry, have to go.”

Your breath leaves you in one go. It feels like you just stepped off a rollercoaster, blown off the ground and slow to catch up. 

“Okay, uh, good show?” 

“It will be,” Hajime’s eyes are warm on you. Meaningful. “Watch it all, okay?”

And then he leaves, the brightness from the corridor snapping you from your haze as you suck all the oxygen left in the room and then screams silently against your hands. 

Iwaizumi feels nervous for the first time since the first time he stepped on stage, about two years ago. It feels like he has something to prove and conquer in this single performance and it doesn’t help that Makki comes running late, smelling of sex and sporting marks that tell just of that, too. But for once Hajime decides he has his own stuff to worry rather than the shit his friends pull.

When they step on stage, his eyes zoom-in on you immediately, something spreading on his skin as he finds your attention centered on him - bulging, enthralled eyes and warm appreciation. 

Hajime smirks. They haven’t even started yet.

On cue, Mattsun, Makki, Oikawa and Kyoutani slide on their position and Iwaizumi is delighted that your eyes remain on him. 

When the show starts, among screamings and money being waved, he follows the steps nicely, out of habit. Iwaizumi tilts his hat at you and you burn so bright he feels his skin heating at the newfound power. 

His vest is the first to go off and he makes sure to have his hands running around his chest more than once, teasing slide until the leather chaps as he thrusts his hips, waving motion that covers his whole body. 

He circles, back muscles in the spotlight as his hands come up behind his head, holding the cowboy hat snug in his head, ass tight in the black briefs as he keeps the motions and then turns to fall down on a plank. Iwaizumi grinds down on the floor, blinks and smiles at the ladies but his eyes are only searching for you. 

He gets up with an elaborate move and puts both his hands on the pole, holding himself up sideways before circling it, dropping and incorporating some break dance Kyoutani teached him. 

Hajime’s hand slid easily with the oil on his skin, slowly planting his thumb under the loops of his leather chaps to the sound of screaming. He feels electricity edge through his skin -- someone’s eyes focused solely on him and the thrill of it it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. Suddenly he understands a bit more about how Oikawa feels with Tendou around. 

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips forward once, snaps his belt off in the air with one pull, making the crowd gasp and scream and the itching on his skin turns south. He watches as your eyes follow the hard planes of his abs and the tight squeeze of his thighs on his leather chaps and then snap back into his face. The fact it’s you only makes it all the more exhilarating.

The choreo is once again on the floor, and he drops to it in a wave motion, hips humping on nothing without faltering, tight ass in the air winning cheers and waves; even so, it’s your silent appraisal that rings the louder.

He gets up again, circles the pole in a charming, teasing manner as he holds the metal bar and grinds on it. Iwaizumi lets his hat on the ground and turns his back to the public in time to snap his pants off in one go, at the same time as the other men on stage, staying in nothing but a ridiculously tight, dark, leather brief. 

When he was first presented to the thing, he hated it and opted to go comando into some shows, which earned him some nice money and was always quite the surprise to the patrons. Now, as his eyes lock on yours and your wicked tongue peaks out to lick your plush lips in nothing but appreciation, Iwaizumi is rendered quite fond of the offending thing -- who’d thought this day would come.

Your eyes are glued to him and it almost hurts Iwaizumi that he can’t go straight to you, bring you on stage with him and glide your hands all over his body. He’s unsure of how to proceed but there’s no chance in hell he’s throwing this shot away. 

He’s been crushing on you for far too long to do that. 

In fact, the dumbfounded look on your eyes is quite endearing, much like all the fumbling and tripping over yourself that he got used to expect every time he sees you. Iwaizumi just assumed you were a bit clumsy and quiet, but then he got to know you and it all blew in his face. 

You were a bit of a dumbass but also beautiful, kind, dedicated and attentive. The crush that started as a endearing feeling quickly escalated into opressing and Iwaizumi was all but rendered stupid around you at all times, firm believer that you never truly looked at him like that.

However, as you stare at him unblinking and eager, the picture of hunger in the most delicate predator, Iwaizumi realises he may be wrong and that thought alone is enough to ignite his veins.

 Oikawa fishes a lady, pushes her on Kyoutani then does the same with another for Iwaizumi.

He smiles at her, professional, and brings her hands to his chest, his hips drawing circles against her. As her tentative strokes and fondling turn into frantic holds and clawing nails, his eyes can’t help but slide sideways, taking in the way you’re hanging out of every move of her hands. 

Fuck, Iwaizumi can’t get hard. But there’s a clear throbbing threading south at your concentration. He can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining your hands on his body instead of hers; your hips against his as he grinds on hers; your mouth on his biceps when she kisses his trademarked asset, the ones that gave him his stripper name. 

The woman slides several singles around his briefs, not without copping a few and your mouth falls open in an indignated breath. Iwaizumi tries hard to avoid it going to his dick.

He fishes for another woman in the audience as he lets the groups slide more singles not only on his briefs but inside his boots. Iwaizumi pulls one while she’s sitting in the chair, deposits it on the stage and grinds on her enough that the woman is overheated, hands faltering by her sides. Hajime’s eyes search yours once again, drinking, basking in the envy he pinpoints.

 Does that mean you wish to be under him, like that? To feel his body against yours, his hips between your legs, his lower body shoved on your face? 

Hajime ends his routine with this one halfway, unable to let them feel what you are doing to him and then - finally - he’s free to walk over to your table. Semi-naked, with his boots, hat and slow-rising hard-on.

He’s done this enough times to be able to keep up with the choreo while he’s navigating the tables, hips thrusting and circling, strangers hands sliding on his oiled body to deposit dollars anywhere they can. They’re mostly handsy, few grab his dick and scream, others palm at his thighs and chest. There’s both numbers and dollars being thrown on him but Iwaizumi is used to it - and that’s definitely not his focus tonight.

Iwaizumi stops for a moment at the table before yours. Joining in the fun as Oikawa is happily grinding on his roommate. It gives Hajime a chance to look your way, enough to find you completely enthralled by his body, wide eyes unwavering, mouth open in a breath as your hand fists the flute you’re holding, the perfect depiction of surprise and enchantment and fuck, Iwaizumi is thrilled.

When Hajime finally stops in front of you, you’re looking at him as if under a spell; mouth hanging softly as stars shine in your eyes and he can’t be faulted for fisting your hair, pulling you up to meet his chest, even if he’s careful with where he touches you. 

Iwaizumi pretends his lips gliding against the shell of your ear is not a planned thing.

“You’re looking too hard. Are you enjoying the show that much?”

Your lips move without words falling from it and having you speechless all but set him on fire. Iwaizumi thanks every god (and begrudgingly Oikawa) for his expertise in what he’s about to do. His hand slides on your hips, feeling the way you sway with tremors and stop on your back to support you as he bends you backwards. His mouth skims the skin of your neck and dips lower, so his nose can cross over your cleavage, softly caressing the spanse of your collarbones. 

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll start thinking things, princess. Interesting things, physical things.” Iwaizumi lets his teeth close on the fabric covering your neckline as his eyes look up on yours to find every hint there can possibly be of your warm desire. “Seems like we’re reaching an agreement, too. Do like what you see, hm? Do you want me to do to you the same things I did with them?” 

“No,” you tell him in a steady tone and Hajime’s eyes shoot up to yours, confused, until you sigh a breath against his face. “I want you to do more.”

He groans, pulling you tighter against his chest for you to feel the effect you have on him, choosing the momentum to circle his hips in what can be disguised as performance despite it being anything but.

“You can’t just tell a guy that. I may believe it.” His hands drop on your ass, gripping as he guides your hips to work with his and you all but melt, blown out eyes falling on his mouth.

“I’m hoping so. I’m pretty much using all my courage to tell you this.” Your breathless chuckle all but obliterates Hajime’s thinking and he has to put some distance between your faces before he takes your lips in a kiss. 

There’s a ringing around his ears and he identifies it as the performance’s end approaching. He has to go back on stage to strip naked and his cock is going to give a show of his own tonight. 

“Go wait for me in the corridor, quick.” It's a plea and a promise as he forces himself to let go of you and turn on his heels to get back on stage.

Oikawa gives him a hand up back onto the stage, eyes all knowing as they survey the whole big thing going on inside his briefs. 

“Nasty, Iwachan~” His smile is a annoying little thing, but then he slaps Iwaizumi’s ass in encouragement, “Sneak off stage before the end, go, quick, I’ll cover.”

Iwaizumi grunts a thanks and as the boys line up one behind the other, he’s able to lock eyes with you and signal with his head before he dips through the backstage drapes.

You’re not sure what’s the plan when Hajime disappears through the back and your spine immediately shoots up, leaving your friends with a half-assed excuse as your legs carry you towards the corridor that leads to the backstage once you choose neither left or right, but only forward. Your eyes are focused, body overheating as your heart gallops in your chest, clinging to the words Iwaizumi whispered in your ears during his show as it repays again and again over your mind’s eye. 

The door to the backstage is signaled with nothing, the only hint of its location being the in and out of men from it as their shows end and they leave the place to either mingle along the audience or enter a private room for privé little shows. Honestly, if it was for Hajime, you’d blow a hole in your wallet for every single second of his time. 

However, as you’re closing in on the hidden door you start growing strikingly aware of the fact you have no idea how to actually meet him there and having to knock on it makes you feel both silly and self conscious.

Luckly, you don’t have to do anything.

Iwaizumi burst the door open in time to fetch you and drag you inside as you let out a little yelp, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the smell of weed, cigars and sweat along with men; Iwaizumi’s hot, sweety skin is sticky against yours and you have the fleeting thought that maybe that would be off putting to you if you didn't have the all consuming need to drop to your knees and lick it all from his fucking skin.

“Iwa,” leaves you lips for no reason, just for the fact it’s his name and you let your neck fall back against his shoulder, turning your head to finally taste his skin. Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around you in such a way you feel the rumble of his growl and he all but tow you deeper inside.

 You can barely get a look around the dimly lit, dirty backstage room before you’re past the messy lounge and into a tight corridor that ends a small, locker-room styled bathroom where Hajime quickly dips inside. 

You get one look at the metal lockers on the side, the two sinks with mirrors upfront and the four bathroom stalls on the left, two on each side before you focus back on Iwaizumi’s jawline, nibbling on whatever you can find and relishing on every little noise that tumbles from his lips. 

Hajime’s arms leave you for one moment, depositing you on unsteady legs so he can turn the lock on the door and by then his hand is burying itself in your hair and closing at your hip, forcefully pulling you to him as his mouth closes around your neck and he proceeds to kiss, bite and suck at every spanse of your skin. 

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this here,” Iwaizumi starts with a gruff voice that makes your center weep, the force of his hands around you enough to render your feet useless as he strides over to the sink, imediatelly hiking you over it with his big hands over your ass and a hard bite at your shoulder as if he’s pinging you as the culprit of his angish. “But I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

He sounds so pained, so raw, that you can’t help but groan, mouth searching his quickly as your hands reach for his hair and shoulder, nails digging on whatever you find to secure your hold on his slippery skin. He tastes of whisky and weed, but it’s the fact that it’s Hajime that renders you intoxicated.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, a trail of kisses making their way down so he can bite at your neck, licking  it over just so he can suck on it, your eyes rolling back inside your head as your body all but trembles. “I was sure you weren’t interested, fuck.” 

That is probably the one thing that could pull you from the haze settling in your brain caused by the fucking thrill that having Hajime kissing and holding you is enough to cause. 

“Are you insane?” You whine back at him, tilting your head away from his mouth as your fingers pull at his hair to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, heated and earnest florest-green eyes that have been your demise since day one. “Iwa, there hasn't been a day I wasn’t interested.” 

There’s an edge of surprise on his face, along with a hint of something soft you can’t name and you all but moan at him, unable to form words of just how much you’ve wanted him and for how long. So you choose to show him, instead, legs circling his frame as you press your chest against his and hold his neck with both hands to pull him in a kiss that leaves you lightheaded, toes curling on your heels and heat burning through your veins, melting your insides until it spills on your underwear.

A rumble in his chest tells you about the groan he keeps inside and Iwaizumi’s hands take hold of the flesh of your ass and thighs with bruising strength, violent heartbeats making both of your bodies tremble with need. But then he angles himself back, breaks the kiss and curses after one look at your face.

Next thing you know Iwaizumi’s down on his knees between your thighs, holding you open with big hands under your knees and your brain just ups and fries. Your panties are sticking to your drenched folds and there’s no way the flimsy triangle is able to do much to hide you from Hajime’s attentive eyes. He groans, fingers dipping under the sides of your underwear and he pulls it to the side, baring you the best he can.

He doesn’t really say anything past throwing you a burning look, kissing up the inner part of your thighs, and then he’s mouth is on you - tongue lavishing at both sex and fabric, circling your clit with wondrous expertise and licking along your inner lips like they’re about to spill all your secrets.

“Fuck,” slips from you as your head arches back, hitting the wall. “Iwaizumi...” 

Whispered from you that way, his name is the only thing that conveys all of the feelings bubbling on your chest: the glee of the mutual crush, the excitement of being this close, the massive bliss igniting your nerves at his ministrations. If the way Hajime doubles down on his efforts between your legs is any indication - tongue slipping up and down then back up to circle your clit mercilessly - you’d say he agrees.

You feel suspended in time, tense as a tight coil that’ll tear with a single harsh pull. His tongue dances around your cunt as much as he did on stage: perfectly. Deliriously bringing you to a high you’ve aren’t sure you’ve ever tasted. And then he brings his fingers to calmly, slowly massage around your entrance. 

“Oh fucking christ!” Your burning moan bounces around the empty space loudly and you swear you feel him snickering against your cunt, only you’re way far gone to care. “Haji-fuck!” 

Your hand slides over his hair, fingers delighted at how soft they feel and you use your palm to press his face further against your folds. Your hips humping anything they can because staying still feels like an impossible task with the way your blood is boiling inside your veins. 

But then someone is pounding at the door loudly and your eyes snap open as your high slips from you, Iwaizumi’s lips abandoning your sex to throw a nasty glare at the door. 

“C’mon Iwa-chan~” someone calls outside, sounding unbelievably pleased at the interruption. “You know the rules! We need to use the bathroom~” 

“Two minutes!” Iwa snarl back and as the pounding on the door doesn’t come back, you think he got himself a deal. “Fucking assholes. Can’t give me one fucking moment when they’re the ones always doing this shit.”

He sounds so pissed it’s actually awfully endearing. Red in the face with swollen lips glistening in a pout, and despite the throbbing on your cunt, you can’t help but laugh. His eyes come back to you and a renewed wave of pleasure curls on your pussy by the clear shift into softness you find there, so you pull him back up standing and make a point of kissing him so hard you’re licking your juices from his chin. 

Two minutes apparently go by awfully fast, as the door is nudged once again. Softly, this time. 

“Fuckers,” Iwa mutters after he breaks the kiss, eyes as daggers aimed at whoever is outside the door. “Give me ten minutes and meet me outside?” You realize by the tone of his voice that Iwaizumi is nervous and your heart does a sickening loop inside your chest as if you needed a heads up of how much you’re gone for him. Your face must do something weird, as his eyes scrunch up and his hands grip on your hips with a tiny bit of strength, pleading. “I just need to change and get my stuff, I’ll be real quick, promise.” 

Jesus Christ, didn’t he get it yet?

“Iwaizumi,” His name sounds gruff past your breathless throat and you see the way his eyes turn steely, bracing for heartbreak. “You could tell me to wait forever, and I’d be dying outside waiting for you.”

You make a point of holding his eyes because it feels like it’s important and you’re thankful for that as you can watch the exact moment Iwaizumi lets a long breath out, eyes warming as his lips descend upon yours - one time, then once again; his fingers drawing soft little patterns over your skin.

“I’ll be outside,” you tell him before someone disturbs the moment between you two and he helps you down the sink, your panties choosing this moment to slide to the floor, showing the fact that all that pulling ended up causing a rip. You choke up a gasp and Iwa chuckles, hand sliding to your bare ass to pat at the plush flesh.

“Well, one less thing in the way.”

Getting out of the bathroom and outside the backroom ends up being the most embarrassing thing about it all, as you’re forced to pass through a horde of almost-naked men that throw you all-knowing grins. The pretty man that welcomed you into the Club is the one with the wickedest grin and you can see by Iwaizumi’s grimace alone that he’s in for a hell of teasing. 

If the hand gripping your hip is anything to go by, you’d doubt he’s paying it half a mind. He leaves you at the door, tells the ones around there to shut it as they watch, and breathlessly promises you he’ll come in a bit before closing the door.

Even so you can still hear the immediate hollering going on inside and you chuckle for a moment, until you try to take a step and your legs betray you, shaken. There’s a smile etched to your face that you can barely contain until you’re painfully remembered of the fact you’re dripping between your thighs. That’s all you need for your heart to beat on your face, burning so bright you’re surprised you haven’t melted to the floor.

You’re breathless and antsy as you wait for Iwaizumi to come back, the club visibly emptier after the final performance. Your friends have left already, only waiting around until you came to pick up your purse, all of them tired and drunk and leaving in group after calling enough ubers and making sure you were fine. 

And not without teasing, of course.

God, you were more than fine. But you’re throbbing, uncomfortable wet and empty, increasingly aware of the fact you’re standing there pantiless as the horny fog dissipates a bit in the absence of one Iwaizumi Hajime to end your logic thinking.

You get antsy of waiting around in the bar despite the bartender trying to make nice small-talk and instead trudges over to the corridor, standing there awkwardly fidgeting as if he’s taking hours and not literally a few minutes.

The door opens with an urge and Hajime’s eyes zoom in on you, long strides that only serve to make your body once again acutely aware of it’s poor state, arousal spiking to the point where you press your legs together to help with the feeling. 

But then he’s reaching for you before he’s even really close, and you’re quickly running to him and latching your lips together with urgency. Now that you can kiss him it feels like there’s no point in any other greeting that doesn’t involve his mouth on yours. 

His hair is dripping wet with a recent, clearly quick shower and he’s wearing the same clothes you’re used to see him with day by day and, somehow, that just makes it all worse, a literal groan passing your lips as you reach once again for his lips but this time Iwaizumi stops you with a groan, turning you in his arms so both of you can eagerly trudge out of the Club.

Hajime tries to be mindful of you as he shortens his long strides to be able to accompany yours. You’re balancing yourself to run on heels, laugh bubbling out of your chest at the exhilarating feeling of glee of a mutual crush. Iwaizumi throws you one amused look, sharp smile turning teasing as his hands come to circle your waist, hoist you up and hurry the remaining distance to his car.

“Too slow!” Iwaizumi teases with a grunt and chuckles against your neck, big toothy smile against your skin. “Hurry up!”

“Someone’s eager,” you tease but he’s already rounding his car, pressing you on the side to attach his lips to your neck, soft bites and circling hips that show you just how much that sentence is true.

One of his hands surrounds your neck and his thumb tilts your head up enough for his lips to capture yours, a soft kiss contrasting with the need in his grasp on your hips. 

“I think we’ve waited too long.” 

“Yeah? Who’s fault is that, dumbass?” You nibble on his lips and grind your hips on the impressive burning length that presses on your belly. Iwaizumi chuckles, biting on your neck as his hand slides past your hip to close on your ass. 

“Yours.” 

Your outraged gasp is lost on his lips, passionate kiss blowing your rational thinking with a nuke. Would you ever recover from Iwaizumi Hajime? God, you don’t think so. 

You pull him closer, pressing your chest against him, pressure building once again as your nipples stand to attention. Your leg rakes up on his side as if you’re not on the middle of the street and Iwaizumi lets his hand slide to the underside of your thigh; fingers dipping lower, digits gliding over your drenched slit once before he dips them carefully past the tight ring of your entrance. It’s barely anything, but your mind short-circuits, head falling back against the car.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Iwaizumi sounds anguished, teeth punishing his lips as his eyes bore on yours. His fingers slide deeper inside you and your mouth opens in a silent moan. “I can’t wait to be inside this pussy.”

That ends you, pussy clenching so hard around his barely there fingers it’s painful to feel the remaining emptiness. You puff a hot breath of air on his face, eyes dazed and blood boiling as you tense and throb. 

“Iwa,” Your nails press on his skin so hard your own hand hurts, “if you keep doing this we’ll be doing it in the street.”

Something burns in him, as he presses his fingers deeper inside you to watch your eyes fall close and then pulls them all out, quickly opening the door.  

“Get in.”

You obey, having half a mind to wonder if it’s really happening until he’s closing the door and circling the vehicle. “Iwa!” You plead, as somehow it feels like abandonment, your whole being hurting and boiling, a whine in your lips as Hajime slides in the driver's seat and turns the car on, driving it out the curb and down the street as a madman.

“We’re doing this right,” Hajime tells you as he drives, drinking your panting form from the corner of his eyes. His jeans are tight, hint of what awaits you forming a very clear pattern and you feel overheated, frenzied, throbbing with need. So as it turns out, you’re far past the point to care. 

You adjust yourself in the seat, legs spreading to allow your hand to reach the appex of your sex as the other closes on a clothed breast. “Iwa,” you sigh in bliss as the pressure finally seems to give in just that one tiny bit. His eyes shoot to you and fall comically large at the view, turning hazed in sequence as his cheeks color red.

“God, baby, don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi grunts, hand adjusting his cock through the jeans as his eyes try to flit between you and the fairly empty streets. 

“I’m not doing anything to you though, I’m doing it to me.” You moan and the car loses balance for a second, sliding to the side and back as you laugh. 

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“Try not to kill us, Iwa.” Is all you answer, moan slipping out at the way you let your fingers alleviate the pressure at your clenching center. Iwaizumi looks as if he’s in pain. One of his hands shoots down to hold on your left thigh, bruising strength delicious.

“You wanna play dirty, huh? That’s what you want?” The tinge of aggression in his voice makes your pussy throb around your fingers and for a moment it feels like he knows. “I can play dirty, baby. I can either make you cum like a good girl or let you hang the whole night like a brat, so what do you want?”

Your voice is nowhere to be found and your eyes are locked on Hajime as if he’s the one who hung the moon and stars. He even has the gal to smirk.

“I can be so good, baby, but I’m even better at being bad.”

You skyrocket shamelessly into a little bout of pleasure, a short-lived thing resembling a climax that’s caused by the whiplash of Hajime’s dominance and the pressure bursting inside you as you abuse your own fingers' expertise. 

You tremble on his side, head thrown back with a moan of his name and Hajime curses loudly, hand at your thigh awkwardly reaching your slit to slide over it and push two fingers inside, catching the last of your short-lived climax. His face turns solemn, eyes darkening with hunger as a vein rises in his jaw and a renewed wave of wetness stains his digits.

Those forest-green eyes settle on you as he speeds down the empty street. “I’m going to end you,” Iwaizumi presses deeper and you arch your body, legs falling wider for him as fingers you effortlessly, driving and stretching you on thick digits that make you gasp on your own breath. 

“This is how it’s going to be.” Hajime starts, voice rough and hot. “Once we’re out of this car and private enough, I’m burying myself inside this pretty pussy in one go.” Your whole breath leaves you in one quick breath, eyes falling open as Hajime’s thumb rounds your clit and a third finger starts pushing inside your walls, burning stretch making you delirious as his words take you apart, one by one. 

“Then, I’m fucking you the whole night until you cant even think about a time where I wasn't inside you,” his fingers curve inside your walls, calling motion and upwards thrust that makes your pleasure sparks through your whole body, one hand closing around his wrist as the other locks on a breast. “Until you feel empty without me inside.”

He pulls his hand back as you all but sob, eyes literally welling with tears at the loss of your quickly rising bliss but one look at Hajime has you sobering up, his focused eyes on the street as he hurries down the rest of the way. 

As it ends up, Iwaizumi stays true to his words. 

He presses you up against the door of his apartment while you two are still on the corridor, brings his hands to your thighs and hikes you up against the door, your dress sliding way past your ass as your bare, throbbing pussy glides over his clothed length. Your whole skin feels like a live-wire, hypersensitive and vibrating.

Hajime’s mouth is closed in a bite on your shoulder as he uses his abilities to open his door without interfering with the sinful way you roll your center against his big cock, needy and lost, pleading for him to just fuck you. 

When it clicks open, both his hands fly to your ass as he pushes past the door and close it with a bang as he presses you against it. His mouth is back on yours, tongue invading your lips with a groan and hand flying to tear his jeans open and down just enough for his big, hard cock spring free.

"Yes!" You break the kiss to cry at the first touch of his weeping, hot cock against your cunt, the sheer amount of wetness making it slide from your hole to your clit and then down again. 

Hajime sucks a breath to still himself, slowly angles his hips back and let the thick head slide to  your entrance with perfect precision, slamming himself half the way inside with one powerful thrust that have his head falling on your shoulder with a blissful groan, your cries of agreement thrown around the air above as you angle your head back.   

Your walls fall open for him brutally, soaking wet and ready but still struggling against the stretch. It burns, his fat cock pulsing inside you and as you clench around his girth you realize he's not even all the way inside. 

"Oh my god," you breathe out and Iwa sighs, fist slamming on the side of the door as he braces himself and rolls his hips, pushing steadily, sheathing his cock inside you slowly. You choke on a breath, suddenly silent, legs kicking out without your brain to rein on it.

"Jesus," Iwa grunts as he bottoms out, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself back, mind stumbling as every single cell in his body seems overwhelmed by the feeling of reaching paradise. “You feel like heaven.”

Hajime tells you mostly because he wants to feel you clench around him and you do, his heart soaring with the delicious high of knowing exactly what makes you tick; but the throbbing of his cock reminds him just how long he’s been forgotten and Iwaizumi adjusts his stance, locks his arms around you and simply mutters, “Now, to fucking you the whole night.”

You skyrocket quicker than ever, few presses and pulls igniting a supernova bliss in your veins, tongue useless as it feels alien in your mouth, brain short-circuiting at his thrusts. You’ve never felt like this and you’re pretty sure you’ll never would, not without Hajime.

You’re so lost you don’t even realize he moves you from the door to the wall, Hajime’s hands grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you to a blistering kiss, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock doing wonders against your clit every time he bottoms out, nestled inside a place you never even felt before. 

You’re so oversensitive, wound up and tense as your pussy holds him as a vice, grunts falling from his lips that make you skin all but burn at the delicious praise. 

As you squeeze “Hajime” past your mouth in a painful breath, frenzied eyes searching for his,  he soothes you with kisses all over your face. 

“Go ahead, baby.” He tells you with his lips against your skin, “I got you.”

You explode. 

There’s no other way to explain the way your pleasure blows you over, sharpshooter through your veins and short-circuits your brain. It feels like being caught in an ocean wave, unable to swim as it carries you underwater and the tides hold you down, unending twirls that assault you through every side until you’re finally reaching shore, rising above to suck a deep breath.

Hajime is peppering your face with kisses as you settle back inside your skin, blinking hazy eyes to his perfect face with a ridiculous smile that must show just how fucking much you’re smitten. But there’s an edge of something painful on his face.

“Wow.” You breathe and his cock responds inside you with a nod of agreement.

Hajime chuckles, plants a big kiss on your wet lips and tries to smile despite the strain on his face as he calls your name. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” you smile dumbly at him, loose and fuzzy around the edges. “Go ahead. Not sure I’ll be of much use, I think I just had a outer body experience.”

“Hmmm,”  Hajime smirks, tight around the edges with his throbbing cock buried in your pulsing heat. as he seems pensive  “No can’t do, baby.”  He rolls his hips for a moment, lecherous noise echoing around the silent flat, then decides to bring you across the short distance to his couch, letting his ass fall on it graceless, cock pressing deeper with the movement. He drinks the little gasp straight from your lips. 

“I think I’ve earned my turn to sit back and relax.” Hajime smiles, predatory, hungry and you decide you just may love him like this. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and ride it?”

-

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Maeve//i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Request: Could you please do something else with Maeve? Perhaps something where reader works with Maeve on an English project and she's surprised that they have so much in common. She realizes she has feelings for her somehow after that? Sorry that's sort of rubbish, have a swell day/night.

hey! what’s up everybody! i hope everyone is well, and i hope you like this!! title is from ‘the lakes’ by taylor swift! 

- English projects are never fun 

- I mean, who finds constant stress and a deadline that’s always far too close fun?

- Nobody

- That’s who

- Well apart from Mrs Jones

- Your year 9 English teacher who made every minute of her classes a living hell

- And who mysteriously went missing half way through the year after having a screaming match with a fellow English teacher

- When she was supposed to be teaching you Romeo & Juliet. 

- One day she was accusing Miss Newman of being a terrible teacher and purposefully bumping up students grades so she looked better 

- And the next day both her and Miss Newman were gone 

- And you only got a replacement teacher when you moved into year 10

- Right now though 

- Its seems Miss Sands is going through some stuff 

- Because not only did she give you an assignment on Friday with a deadline of Monday 

- She also chose your partners instead of letting you choose your own

- Which is why you’re stood outside of Maeve’s in the pouring rain

- On a frankly miserable Saturday morning 

- It seems the weather knew exactly what sort of weekend you were facing 

- And decided to make it even worse. 

- By the third knock 

- You’re about to give up 

- The curtains are still drawn 

- And you’ve seen more movement in a graveyard 

- Plus

- You kind of already assumed you would be doing the project alone 

- Maeve Wiley was known for being very...

- ...independant 

- And group projects are no different 

- You actually think she may be more independent during group projects

- So as soon as Miss Sands paired you together 

- You knew 

- You were 99% sure that 

- You’d do your thing

- She’d do hers 

- And then five minutes before the presentation 

- You would figure out a way to connect the two.

- Anywayyyy

- While daydreaming about a time when you won’t have any assignments 

- And making awkward, accidental eye contact with Maeve’s neighbours 

- The door in front of you opens 

- Simultaneously giving you a fright and almost knocking you out

- She yawns and scratches the top of her head 

- ‘what are you doing here?’ 

- She sounds both tired and annoyed and you blink at her a few times before answering 

- ‘er - i - the project. for english.’ 

- It takes her a few seconds to process what you’ve said 

- But when she does 

- She looks even more miserable than she did five seconds ago

- And you brace yourself for a long weekend 

- She sighs and rolls her eyes 

- Before slowly opening the door properly and letting you in

- You feel slightly nervous as you walk in 

- But you really have no idea why

- It’s not like she’s a complete stranger 

- But then again 

- She’s not exactly a friend 

- ‘don’t worry, i’ve hidden the drugs. i don’t really like to share anyway.’ 

- ‘what?’ you ask confused and she rolls her eyes again 

- She huffs and crosses her arms before nodding to the slightly messy living room

- ‘i get it. we’re a bunch of benefit fraud chavs that do nothing but drink and smoke all day.’ 

- ‘that’s not what i was thinkin-’ 

- ‘sure it wasn’t.’ she rolls her eyes and you stare down at the floor. ‘i need to get changed so make yourself at home I suppose.’ 

- She walks into what you assume is her bedroom and slams the door behind her 

- Leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room

- It’s small and slightly cramped 

- And most people would say that all the stuff makes it look busy 

- But to you 

- It’s wonderful 

- It’s filled with stories and memories 

- Some self explanatory 

- Some slightly more bizarre 

- Like the wonky blue and yellow clay swan living on the coffee table 

- You really want to know the story behind it 

- But decide it might be a little early in your partnership to start asking about her attachment to a half swan, half moth looking ornament

- So instead you pick up a pile of books on the dining table and move them onto the floor 

- You can hear Maeve opening and closing drawers while humming a familiar tune 

- And you feel yourself relax slightly as you place your laptop and books where the books were previously sat 

- Even if it does feel like you’re using all of your braincells to try and figure out where you’ve heard it before 

- ‘wow, do you actually trust me around that?’ 

- ‘what?’ you stop humming and look up at her 

- She looks between you and the laptop, staring at you expectantly 

- ‘oh no. i mean of course i do.’ you blush and she shakes her head before sitting opposite you 

- ‘so what do we know about women in fiction?’ 

- ‘historically they are written as either a femme fatalle type or some sort of innocent angelic being.’ 

- ‘they still are’ 

- ‘true’ you agree and flick through your textbook

- ‘why don’t we write about that then?’ 

- ‘what? how we’re still depressingly far back in the equality movement, despite being told otherwise?’ 

- She stares at you for a few seconds 

- A mixture of shock and surprise 

- Before nodding 

- And smiling 

- An actual genuine smile 

- You didn’t even know she could do that 

- Well you did 

- Of course you did 

- But you just haven’t seen it a lot 

- Usually when you see Maeve 

- She’s either mad, grumpy or very, very, very angry

- But her smiling 

- Puts a smile on your face 

- And this was definitely not where you thought this was going 

- ‘yeah...that’ 

- ‘okay.’ you shrug. ‘you can do classic literature because i know you prefer them and i’ll cover modern works.’

- ‘how do you know i prefer classics?’ 

- ‘the pile of books’ you nod towards the floor and she follows your gaze, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. ‘they’re all ripped and folded. you either love them or really, really hate them’ 

- ‘okay’ she eyes you suspiciously as you focus on your laptop 

- And you can feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze 

- However as quickly as they were there 

- They disappear 

- And the two of you fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence. 

- After about half an hour 

- Maeve stops what she’s doing to stretch 

- ‘is it okay if i play some music?’ 

- ‘sure, it’s your place. do what you want...as long as its not awful’ 

- ‘and what constitutes as awful?’ she asks, a smirk playing on her lips

- ‘well’ 

- And with that one question 

- Your entire day disappears in front of you 

- Laptops and books are closed and long forgotten 

- And instead you talk about music and movies 

- Books and plays 

- Characters that you love and hate 

- And the fact that her favourite character is the one you hate the most 

- She makes you lunch while you debate between movies and books and which adaptations are good

- And which ones should never have been made

- And you clean up and apologise profusely after a stray cushion (possibly thrown by you) ends up knocking the pan over 

- Surprisingly 

- She finds it quite funny 

- And you let out a relieved sigh

- Soon the sun goes down on another day 

- And you’ve barely written two paragraphs done between you

- ‘do you want to stay?’ she asks while your putting your jacket on

- If she’d asked you that this morning 

- You would have thought she had lost it 

- But now it feels almost inevitable 

- And you feel genuinely lucky to be asked 

- Not many people get to know Maeve 

- The real her 

- And that last person she told all of this to broke her heart 

- Very publicly 

- And she told herself she would never let herself be that vulnerable with someone ever again

- But this just feels right 

- For some reason you feel right 

- She feels safe with you 

- And part of her hates herself for it 

- But then again 

- She hates herself for not getting to know you sooner

- She feels far too attached to you 

- And it’s barely been twelve hours 

- You of course agree to stay 

- Shocking yourself and her 

- And while she sorts to sofa out 

- You excuse yourself to the bathroom 

- Under the pretences of telling your parents where you are 

- It takes two seconds to text them 

- And the other 28 to ask yourself 

- What the fuck are you doing? 

- Why are you agreeing to this? 

- Why do you feel like this? 

- What are you feeling?

- Who knows?

- Not you 

- Great 

- Now you’ve been in the bathroom for a suspicious amount of time 

- Just get it together, Y/n

- It’s just a study sleepover 

- Maeve gives you a questioning look as you leave 

- ‘you know how mums are. always worrying about where you are and what you’re doing’ 

- ‘i wouldn’t actually’ she shrugs and your eyes widen 

- ‘oh shit, sorry. i’m so sorry. god, i’m an idiot.’

- ‘it’s fine’ she forces a laugh and you wince. ‘i got you an extra duvet and little women is ready to watch so i can show you that the book is better’ 

- ‘that’s not what i said and you know it’ 

- ‘i’m sorry. i can’t hear you over the sound of me being 100% right and you being 100% wrong.’ 

- ‘you may be good at english, but you suck at maths’ 

- The next day you wake up to the sun shining through the curtains 

- And a clump of Maeve’s hair in your mouth 

- You splutter and cough and wake her up quickly 

- And she jumps away from you and smacks her head of the table 

- The two of you ended up moving the blankets to the floor while watching Pride and Prejudice 

- And neither of you bothered to move back 

- Maeve yawns and scratches her head

- Exposing a small part of her stomach and you feel yourself become a little breathless 

- ‘are you okay?’ 

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and she eyes you suspiciously 

- ‘whatever’ she shrugs and starts making breakfast 

- You watch as she pours to bowls of cereal

- Giving you the last of the milk 

- And for a second you’re a little worried as to how she knew you liked it 

- But then you remember that she also likes it and you had a whole discussion about the best and worst types of cereal at 2am 

- And half way through breakfast 

- You remember the original reason you’re here 

- And both of you curse loudly 

- Before rushing to finish eating 

-You get half way through your project 

- When Maeve asks if you want to go out for a bit 

- And well 

- She doesn’t need to ask you twice 

- And by the time you come back 

- The feeling you had last night returns 

- And has settled in your stomach 

- For the foreseeable future it seems 

- It makes you feel both light and heavy at the same time 

- And when you look at her 

- You feel dizzy 

- So you rush to finish the project 

- So you can go home and pretend nothing has changed 

- And yeah 

- With the need to leave 

- You get the rest of the assignment done fairly quickly 

- But you end up leaving feeling more confused about Maeve as you did when you started this 

- Maybe Miss Sands was right about a weekend project 

- Any longer and you would have gone insane trying to figure out whatever the hell this is 

- You just have to get through tomorrow and then you’ll be okay 

- Everything will go back to normal 

- You and Maeve can go back to being neutral to each other

- And you won’t have to deal with all of these confusing feelings that have decided to make an appearance for some reason 

- Wellll

- Turns out Miss Sands was wrong 

- A weekend is not enough time 

- And the first few presentations are awful 

- To put it nicely 

- So you spend the next week in a permanent confused state 

- Confused as to why you start looking for Maeve whenever you enter a room

- Confused as to why your heart skips a beat whenever you hear her laugh 

- Confused as to why you never want her stop talking in class 

- Even if the bell has rung and it’s lunch 

- Confused to why you keep looking for excuses to go over to see her 

- Despite your assignment being long done 

- And even more confused as to why you feel anxious when you’re waiting for her to answer the door

- The next Monday rolls around both painfully slowly and far too quickly 

- And while you wait for Ola and Danny to finish their presentation 

- Your hands shake with anxiety while your grip your papers 

- Maeve reaches over the table and gives them a reassuring squeeze 

- But it just makes them shake more and she slowly pulls back 

- Your turn can’t come quick enough 

- But then it’s over far too quickly 

- And you slump back down in your seat disappointed 

- Despite Miss Sands’ praise 

- Because it’s over 

- You no longer have an excuse to hang out with her 

- You never talked before 

- So why do you care about after 

- But there’s so much about her that you want to know

- Like the weird swan/moth hybrid 

- And the ugly plate that sits on top of the bookshelf 

- You want to be part of these stories 

- You want to be able to point to these things and say

- ‘yeah, i know exactly why that is special to you’ 

- You want to be the reason to add to this random collection of stuff 

- You want her to smile when she looks at them because they’ll remind her of you 

- You want her to smile when she looks at you 

- ‘y/n? are you okay?’ she asks making you jump 

- The classroom is now empty and you didn’t even notice the bell go 

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and grab your bag

- ‘are you sure?’ she grabs your arm forcing you turn around 

- ‘whats the weird swan thing on your coffee table?’ you ask and she furrows her eyebrows at you. ‘it’s just i saw it when i first came over and i really want to know the story behind it’ 

- ‘oh. aimee went through a pottery phase last year and that was the only thing she made that didn’t have a hole in it.’

- ‘and the plate?’ 

- ‘birthday present from my neighbours’ 

- ‘they got you a plate?’ 

- ‘yeah, they don’t have any kids’ 

- ‘clearly’ 

- Silence fills the room and you stare at the peeling posters behind her head 

- You can feel Maeve move closer to you and your breath hitches when she stops a few centimetres in front of you 

- She grabs your hand and squeezes it again 

- And your heartbeat increases 

- ‘y/n?’ 

- ‘yeah?’ 

- ‘i’m really, really confused right now. like more confused that i have ever been in my life. but what i do know, is that if i watch you walk out of that door without saying anything first, then i’d regret it for the rest of my life. i’ve only ever felt like this about boys before, but now i feel this and more about you and i have no idea where it’s come from or what i need to do, but i do know i need to tell you. because otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair for either of us’ she whispers and you stare at her wide eyed 

- ‘can i kiss you?’ she asks and you nod your head quickly 

- Slowly she leans in

- Her eye flutter closed and you follow 

- Your lips brush over hers 

- Her hands wrap around you waist to pull you close

- And then your lips connect 

- And you feel everything change 

- She kisses you slowly 

- And when you pull away you both feel breathless 

- Her cheeks are bright red 

- And there’s a shy smile playing on her lips as she looks at you bashfully

- And all of a sudden you feel really grateful for Miss Sands and her personal issues 

- Although you really hope they are resolved now 

- For your sake as well as hers

support my writing! if you want! 

[weresodiscxnnected]

Relationships: Peter Parker/ Original Female Character Warnings: Swearing Word count: 4862 Notes: Surprise! A Friday update! Okay, I said earlier I try to post during weekends, and Friday is the start of the weekend. I've noticed that when I write about Harley I keep thinking Luke Hemmings for some reason, so, I've just gone with the flow. For Harry I kept thinking Timothee Chalamet because of all the fancasts in tiktok. Also, a small head's up; I have a lot of important deadlines coming up, and I'm already doing everything last minute, so I'm not sure if there will be an update next week (I'm doing my best to finish both, by essays and the next chapter). I think it's good to note that the following updates will go unedited and proofread only by me since my lovely friend who is doing the proofreading for me is travelling. Thank you to everyone who is reading! I never thought someone would read this since it's something I started writing for myself for fun.

Link to the series Masterlist

Chapter 5

It was Monday morning; Peter was getting ready for his visit to the Daily Bugle before his work. The news played in the background while he was loading the coffee maker. He adds one more scoop of coffee grounds into the maker as he hears Melissa’s door go. The clicking of high heels on the hardwood floors echoes in the hallway before Melissa arrives in the room. She was wearing a lavender coloured pants suit with high heels, and her hair was in a low ponytail. It was different from what Peter had used to seeing the girl in.

“What’s the occasion?” Peter lifts his eyebrow, leaning into the counter next to him.

“There are these end-of-the-year development interviews for all the staff, and they’re making me sit through them with Aida to take notes. Or, how I put it, I’m just there to look pretty and pretend I understand what they’re talking about.” Melissa sighs, sitting on the barstool.

Peter remembered how Tony used to hate those interviews, yes, they were beneficial, but they were also tedious. First, every head of the department would interview the people working under them, and then the director would be interviewed by Tony or Pepper; usually, Pepper and Aida did the job. He had been in that interview once, and it had been enough for him.

“You’re going to the Bugle today?” Melissa asks when Peter hands her a cup of coffee.

“Yup,” Peter nods, pouring himself a cup.

“So, are you an aspiring journalist or something?”

“Not really. I just sent these shots I got of Spiderman. Thought it would be a nice way to get more money” the boy sips his coffee.

“Harassing superheroes in your free time, Parker, I would’ve never guessed.”

“No, we’re cool; we’re like buddies.”

“You sold your buddy to the media who mocks him all the time?”

“It was his idea; he wants to keep his identity, so, instead of thousands of people taking pictures of him, he just has one whom he knows.”

There was something behind Peter’s words that Melissa didn’t swallow. She knew he was lying; she could see it. However, she didn’t say anything, she didn’t want to scare the boy, knowing she would out herself in the process. So, she just decided to play it cool.

“Okay, Paparazzi Parker. I can give you Daredevil’s address or Deadpool’s if you want to harass more masked vigilantes.” Melissa winks.

“No thanks, I think I'll stick with Spiderman,” Peter scratches his neck.

“Good choice”, Melissa mumbles in her mug while she scrolls her phone.

They spend the rest of their morning coffee in silence while Melissa scrolls Instagram and Peter watches the news. Nothing new for either of them, it was comfortable silence. The girl likes pictures of people she knew distantly, like Gwen, the girl who worked in the lobby of the Stark Tower. She posted a picture of her cats cuddling. Or Ned, the IT intern she had met twice, but he seemed to be friends with Harley and Harry, so she had followed him back. Apparently, Ned had recently gotten engaged and was now posting a picture with his fiance. Melissa’s Instagram moment is ruined by Happy, who has just texted telling her he was waiting downstairs.

“I need to go”, she mumbles, getting up from the barstool. Peter glances at the girl first, then the clock and realises he needs to leave as well. The boy shuts down the Tv before turning off the coffee maker and cleaning the mugs in the sink. Melissa pulls her coat on when Peter meets her in the hallway. Grabbing his jacket and back bag, Peter follows the girl out of the door, locking it on his way.

The elevator ride was quiet, but the silence was quick to end when they reached the front door and saw it was pouring outside.

“Shit!” Peter curses; he had forgotten his umbrella upstairs. He was never going to make it dry to the Daily Bugle. Melissa looks at the car where Happy was waiting for her. She then looks at Peter, who had already started to walk back to the elevator to get his umbrella.

“Happy can drive you; the office is close by the tower, it’s; it’s not a big detour” Melissa shrugs, knowing Happy wouldn’t be happy, but they had plenty of time, and she felt bad for Peter.

“Really?” Peter turns around.

“Yeah, let's go” Melissa nods towards the car, opening the door. They sprinted towards the car, holding their coats over their heads to cover themselves from the rain.

Finally getting into the car and relatively dry, Melissa and Peter look at each other, smiling; their mission was successful.

“Hey, what’s this? Who is this?” Happy’s head snaps to the backseat.

“Happy, this is Peter, my flatmate. He has a meeting in the Daily Bugle, and I couldn’t let him walk there soaked. It’s not a big detour. Please, Happy,” Melissa explains, batting her eyelashes at the man sitting in the driver’s seat.

Happy’s eyes scanned Peter, and Peter could feel the nervousness rising. Part of him hoped Happy would recognise him, and part of him feared that he’d recognise him. He had only met him once, on May’s grave, but he didn’t remember him. Happy then sighs and looks at Melissa, still making her best puppy impression.

“Fine, but I’m not a taxi, Mel.”

“Yay! Thank you, Happy!”

Twenty-something minutes later, the car stops in front of a large building with massive screens that play the news clip from the Bugle. The letters Infront of the building are written in yellow. Peter thanks Melissa and Happy before getting out of the car. Covering himself with his jacket, he jogs into the lobby.

People ran around the lobby, waving papers around and trying to catch the elevators. It was something you’d see in TV shows and movies, not in real life, or that’s what Peter thought. A big silver coloured desk with Daily Bugle written stands in the middle of everything. Behind it was a girl with blonde hair, staring at the computer with a troubled look on her face while trying to explain something on the phone. Peter couldn’t believe his eyes; it was Betty Brant, his High School classmate and Ned’s girlfriend. When he had seen her last time, she was still in college doing her degree in Journalism. Her degree and passion for journalism were only clear that she’d work somewhere like the Daily Bugle. Still, Peter wasn’t expecting to see her there.

Peter fixed his jacket and hair before he walked toward the desk. The girl glances at Peter, holding up a finger to ask Peter to wait for a second.

“Mr Jameson, I have already sent Mercado to investigate and write a report. She’s the best we have; I’ll send someone to take pictures with her.” She mumbles a few yeses and okays before putting the phone down and giving Peter her full attention. She looked the same as Peter remembered; she had shorter hair and was dressing more mature, but any other way, it was the same Betty Peter remembered.

“Uh, yeah, I’m Peter Parker, I sent material about Spiderman a few days ago, and I was told to come here for further discussion,” Peter stutters under Betty’s firm stare; he was a total stranger. It was hard not to ask how she was doing since it had been a while since they’d seen each other. Not to mention the urge Peter had to ask how Ned was doing, but he couldn’t. Betty’s face softens, and she clicks something on the computer. A few more clicks, and she finds the schedule she was looking for.

“Right! Welcome; I was told you’d be coming this morning. Let me call my boss” she smiles, taking the phone and placing it on her back again.

When she lifted the phone, a ring on Betty’s left ring finger caught Peter’s attention; that was indeed new. Has Ned gotten engaged? Peter’s guts turned, and his heart ached. The slow realisation of how many important things he was going to miss. Peter remembers how Ned used to talk about how Betty was the one and someday he would marry her. Back then, Ned had told Peter that he wanted Peter to be his best man; all of it felt distant then.  Now it was happening, and Peter couldn’t be there for his best friend.

“Mr Jameson, the Spidey photographer, is here. I’ll send him up.” She speaks, pulling Peter back to earth. “He’ll see you now, the last floor; take a right from the elevators.”

Peter thanks the girl before heading to the elevators and pressing the button to the top floor; the doors close in front of him. The gut-wrenching feeling didn’t ease. Meeting Flash was easy, but Betty was more challenging; she was closer. He never had thought about what he would do if he met people from his past. Until now, it had been easy just to avoid everyone and the places they might be. It had worked for almost a year now, but somehow, Peter felt like everyone was slowly creeping back into his life. Happy, Flash, Betty, he had managed to pretend he was a stranger for them but knowing himself, it would only get harder to act. He was afraid that he’d slip something, and it would blow his cover like it would be some counteracting to Strange’s spell, and everything would rewind into last year’s mess.

Peter jumps slightly when a man walks into the elevator on the sixth floor, nodding to Peter as a greeting and pressing the same button Peter had pressed earlier. When the elevator informs them that they’ve reached the top floor, they walk out and head right.

Peter didn’t know what to expect, he had just sent the pictures, and they told him to come around. He wondered why they didn’t just make him send his information over the email but made him come to the offices. The man from the elevator enters first into the room, followed by Peter right after.

“Well, get into that warehouse. I don’t care if the police have closed it! It’s not a coincidence that Deadpool and his little sidekick were seen there. We need to find out what is going on!” a man with slicked back grey hair yells into his phone, smashing it down in its place. “What the hell are you standing there?”

Peter jumps back, a bit shaken by surprise. He quickly fixes his position and clears his throat.

“I’m Peter Parker; I send pictures of Spiderman to you.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting but certainly not you! Anyway, I liked the material. Not the best but the best we have right now.”

“Thank you?”

The older man turns to look at the person next to Peter.

“Abernathy, How much can we pay the guy?”

“If our people had taken pictures like that, it would be around fifty bucks per pic, hundred for video and double if we use them. He sent five pics and five videos; it would make seven-hundred-fifty to cover the base and add commission after choosing what we use.”

“But he’s not working for us; I say four hundred.”

Peter was sure that the two had just completely forgotten that he was still in the room as they went on about how much he should be paid. They go back and forth before Mr Jameson speaks to Peter again.

“How did you get the pictures? How did you know where to be?”.

Peter freezes. He wasn’t expecting questions, or he was, he just wasn’t ready to answer them. 

“I-I have my ways. We’re kind of like acquaintances.”

“Acquaintances? So, you know the menace underneath the mask?”

“No, Sir. I’ve never seen him without his mask. I’ve just met him multiple times. He swings a lot in the area I live in.”

The older man squints his eyes; he can tell Peter hides something. If he knew Spiderman, he could be a valuable source for the Daily Bugle and perhaps, he could help them unmask the son of a bitch.

“I’ll give you a deal, kid. I’ll pay you a thousand if you bring me new pictures by Wednesday, and I’ll hire you as a photographer for Spiderman.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Peter would have to double-take if he heard the man correctly. He can’t be saying what Peter thinks he’s saying.

“You heard me; I’m offering you a job. I will get more pictures by Wednesday; I’ll give you 1000, and you’ll become Spiderman’s photographer since you can do the job better than our current photographers.”

So, Peter’s ears and mind weren’t deceiving him after all. Mr Jameson was offering him a job. Peter nods and crosses his arms on his chest.

“What would that job include except taking pictures of Spiderman?”

Now, it was the man next to Peter who talked. “Like I earlier mentioned, it would be fifty for a picture, a hundred for video, double if used, plus minimum wage for the first year. Office hours would be nine to five every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On other days you’d come if needed. Almost every photographer here works as a freelancer under the same rules.”

“Take it or leave it; I’ll pay you four hundred now, and you leave or thousand on Wednesday, and I’ll hire you.” Mr Jameson leaned back in his chair.

Peter might be losing his mind, but the conditions he was given sounded like a dream compared to his current job. No more yelling customers, no graveyard shifts where he had to sit behind the counter and hope someone would need something at four in the morning, no itchy bright green polyester vest. He could make money for being Spiderman and show up to the office three times a week.

“It’s a deal.”

“I’m waiting for those pictures on my desk at nine on Wednesday morning, Parker. And they need to be publication quality!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now, get lost. I need to figure out what Deadpool is up to.”

Without saying anything, Peter leaves the room, heading to the elevator. Before he can reach it, he is stopped by Abertnathy.

“I have to say; you’re a crazy kid. The deal is good, but you have no idea what you got yourself into.”

“He’s waiting for me to fail, so he doesn’t have to pay?”

“Pretty much. Our team has been chasing Spiderman for a year now, and the best we got was pixelated CCTV material and blurry pictures from afar. One guy swears he was taking pictures of Spiderman when it was clearly a woman”

“Well, I have my ways, trust me” Peter walks into the elevator, leaving the man to just stare at the closing doors.

Peter pulls out his phone, excited to tell the news to his friends already typing a message, but when he’s about to press send, the realisation hits him. He didn’t have anyone to tell. It would be weird if a random number sent “Guess what! I just got offered a job!” nowhere. So, he deletes the message. When he’s about to close the messaging app, one name catches his eye on top of his message list. Maybe he did have someone he could tell the news about; hesitantly, he clicked the name. Peter was sure she wasn’t going to answer him, and he was probably interrupting her work, but still, he typed the message.

Peter: Guess what? I got offered a job at the Daily Bugle!

The elevator blings as it reaches the ground floor, opening the doors and revealing a group of people waiting to get in. Awkwardly the boy walks out of the elevator, making room for the people wanting to go up. He waves Betty at the front desk before heading out. When he steps outside, he is reminded that it is still pouring. For Peter’s luck, the closest Subway station where he could get a train to work was next to the Stark Tower, an almost ten-minute walk away.

He had no choice but to walk. Sprinting towards the station like him running would make him or his journey any drier. The water splashed under his sneakers, soaking his jeans. Peter didn’t even bother to cover his hair. It would be wet anyway. Because of the rain, the streets were relatively empty; no one wanted to go outside in weather like this unless they had to. He finally makes it to the station, putting his super-speed and reflexes into work, dodging the umbrellas of the one poor tourist group roaming the streets.

When he finally gets into the train, he’s dripping wet, like he had gone into a shower with his clothes on, hoping his phone and headphones in his pocket weren’t soaked as well. Pulling out his phone, he sighs in relief, seeing it is dry. Checking the phone, he finds out that he has one new message.

Melissa: oh, wow, congrats? not sure how to react, if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Peter: Thank you! I took the offer, so I guess it was a good thing. How’s your work?

Peter writes and deletes the last sentence multiple times before leaving it and sending it.

Melissa: i guess it’s time for proper congratulations! paparazzi parker ;) and boring; they keep talking about growth rates, marginals, and sales volumes.

Peter: Oh, I’m sorry! Am I interrupting? Didn’t mean to.

Melissa: nah, it’s okay. i’m texting Cindy as well. they don’t even notice. so, tell me about your new job.

Peter: Well, I don’t have the job yet. I need to bring them new pictures of Spiderman by Wednesday morning, and if the pics are good, they’ll hire me.

Melissa: that sounds sketchy, but if they like the previous ones, they will like the new ones as well.

Melissa: okay now aida is giving me a funny look, i better stop. talk to you at home x.

Peter: Good luck with the rest of your day!

*************************

It was almost two o’clock when Melissa was freed from the Interviews. It didn’t mean that her workday was over; no, it meant Morgan would be home from school soon, and her job as some sort of secret agent turned into a nanny. Happy was picking Morgan up since it was still pouring, and Melissa refused to drive a car in New York City.

So, Melissa decided to spend the little break she was given doing what she did best, annoying her friends in the labs. She strutted towards the engineering lab on the 12th floor. She could see two heads standing next to a computer through the windows. One with dark, almost black curls cleanly slicked back and one with messy blonde hair pointing everywhere. A big grin forms on Melissa's face as she parades into the lab after swiping her key card.

“What are we doing this afternoon?” She walks behind the figures.

“We’re doing the finishing touches on Cindy’s new suit,” The brunette says, nodding to the table on their left. A black and silver suit lays on the table, with a red spiderweb on the chest piece.

Melissa walks closer to the table, looking at Harry and Harley to ask permission to touch the suit.

“Go ahead”, Harley nods, knowing that the girl was aching to touch the suit.

Melissa carefully lifts the suit's sleeve, studying the red fingertips on the glove. Running her finger up the sleeve to the chest, she traces the red S that looks like a lightning bolt when you first look at it.

“This is so much better than mine”, She breathes out, fascinated by the suit.

“I’m not buying that; Lily made your suit.” Harry shakes his head.

“Well, it’s not that bad, but it could use upgrading. And I look like I’m cosplaying Taylor Swift when I wear it.”

“I thought you liked Taylor Swift”, Harley smirks.

“I do, but I’d like to have a little more coverage and lose the gold details. Wade keeps calling me Honeybee. It sounds like a lame version of the Wasp.”

“Technically, it is your name,” Harry points out.

“Oh, piss off, Osborn,” Melissa rolls her eyes. She plops into the chair next to the table, kicking off her heels before crossing her feet on the chair, barely fitting. Harley lets out a small laugh at sight, commenting that she never knows how to sit correctly in chairs. The girl answers with a middle finger and tells him to go back to work and pretend she doesn’t even exist.

The girl tries to listen to the boys' conversation, debating how they’re going to implant the sensory chips into the suit and how sensitive they need to be. This is where Melissa zones out; she had no clue about the technical side they were discussing, like the type of chips they’d use and what was the difference between the two chips. When they talked about chips, she thought about the French fries she had for lunch. She wasn’t super bright like the boys or a miracle child genius like her sister used to be; well, she was still a genius, just not a child anymore. Melissa could write code, she was pretty good at coding and programming, but that’s about it; her expertise lay elsewhere.

She blankly stares at the table where the boys have now flipped the suit inside out and started to attach the sensor chips to their places. Harley had put his hair into a small bun and put on his glasses. His tongue slightly peaked between his lips as he tried to place the chip in its place with a pair of curved tweezers. He carefully pressed the chip to seal it, and Harry next to him confirmed if the chip had correctly attached and it was showing up on the computer. 

Melissa sometimes forgot that her best friends were engineers and scientists, straight out of university, working for one of the biggest companies in the world. If you’d met them during free time, you’d think they were just normal twenty-three-year-olds, partying, making all the wrong choices before settling down, having pizza nights in someone’s living room while watching movies and drinking beer. They made her feel normal.

When Melissa had first met Harley, it was Tony’s funeral. Melissa had stayed back from the crowd with Lily and Aida. A tall, lanky figure with messy blonde hair had approached them, dressed in a black suit like the rest of the men there, introducing himself as Harley Keener. Tony had been a mentor to Harley over the years, helped him get into Empire, and was always ready to answer his calls when he needed help with his projects. They had met when Tony had broken into Harley’s family shed when he was 15. During the funeral, he mentioned looking for an internship to finish his engineering degree. Lily had suggested he apply to Stark Industries, as Harley already had connections, and her department was looking for two interns.

Harley then told Harry, his classmate, about the internships, and they applied; both were excellent students, and they got in with ease. Harley and Harry started the training at the same time as Melissa began her job as a nanny, meaning she spent more time in the Stark Tower. Melissa would visit her sister in the labs, who was the boys' trainer and every time, she spent more time with the boys than she spent with her sister. Cindy joined their group later that spring, she had started an internship with Dr Banner, who mainly worked in his personal laboratory, but sometimes they’d do collaborative work in the Tower labs. They studied gamma radiation and how it affected different organisms, primarily insects.

Melissa really couldn’t remember all the details of that study since it had big ‘science words’ that she couldn’t understand. Cindy had explained everything a million times to her, but she’d zone out when the words turned into something she couldn’t understand. All her friends were intelligent and successful, and she was just Melissa, a girl who dropped out of primary school at ten and had to do the rest of her education at the ripe age of nineteen, barely passing.

Melissa was glad Morgan was in the first grade, and the subjects she was learning were easy since it was her job to help the kid with her homework. Morgan didn’t really need help since she was a genius like her father, but sometimes she needed some push to do her homework since ‘it was too easy’ as Morgan had put it. Those times Melissa asked Harley to help. Morgan adored Harley, and Harley would give the girl more complicated stuff to work on to motivate the girl to do the easy stuff first. It had been under discussion if they’d move Morgan up a couple of years since she was already reading and writing fluently; her maths skills were almost the same as third graders, but Morgan herself had wanted to start from the first grade since all her friends were there.

Just then, Melissa’s phone beeps. It was Happy asking where Melissa was as he was back with Morgan. Melissa tells him to send Morgan into lab twelve D. Melissa knew that the boys wouldn’t mind Morgan; her dad had taught her well. She knew how to behave in a lab and what she was allowed to do. She loved wearing the white lab coats and safety goggles, parading around being the little scientist she was.

It didn’t take long, and Happy let Morgan into the lab before excusing himself and disappearing into the hallway. Morgan drops her school bag on the ground next to the door and tiptoes herself an oversized lab coat from the lowest coat hook. She pulls on the white jacket over her school uniform and marches toward Melissa, sitting on the chair, who greets the girl with open arms, ready to pull the girl into a bear hug.

“How was school today?” Melissa asks, letting go of the little girl.

“It was okay; we had maths in the first period, I already knew how to do everything, then in arts and crafts, we made hand turkeys since thanksgiving is this month, and we’re learning about it in history. And we ended the day with spelling exercises,” Morgan explains, barely taking any breaths between her sentences.

“That sounds like a day. Did you get homework?” The older girl takes the one sleeve of the lab coat the younger one was wearing, rolling it up, so it doesn’t get in Morgan’s way

“Yes, spelling and maths. But I know everything already, so can I go to see what the boys are doing?”

“We’ll do the homework later; you can’t start skipping homework on a first-grade, Miss. And yes, you can.” She finishes rolling up the other sleeve and pats Morgan on the shoulder.

Morgan shrieks in excitement, skipping over to Harley and Harry, carefully peeking between their figures what they were doing.

“Seems like we have top-level quality control” Harley smiles, putting down the tweezers and pushing his glasses on top of his head.

“This must be important since our boss is here”, Harry laughs, messing up Morgan's hair.

“What are you guys doing?” the girl asks, fixing her hair back.

“We are installing sensors into Silks’ new suit,” Harley explains.

The little girl looks at the inside out suit on the table, scratching her head in confusion.

“It looks weird.”

“Well, it’s inside out now, but I can show how it looks the right way.” Harley pushes himself with the saddle chair next to the computer. He clicks open a picture of the suit, and Morgan looks at the picture in amazement.

“Wow, that looks like a Spiderman suit! You’re making a suit for Spiderman?”

“No, we’re making a suit for Silk. She’s like Spiderman, but a girl.”

“There's a girl Spiderman?” Morgan exclaims.

“Yes, darling, there’s girl Spiderman.” Melissa walks up to Morgan, smiling.

“Does she know Spiderman? My daddy knew Spiderman; he talked about him a lot.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked,” Harley admits.

“You should ask! And then since you know girl Spiderman, she could bring the other Spiderman here and I could meet him! I want to meet Spiderman and girl Spiderman!” Morgan rambles.

“Since it's the boss’ order, we ask Silk if she knows Spiderman the next time we see her”, Harry promises.

Morgan and Melissa spend a little more time watching the boys install and test the sensors in the lab. Harley even let the girls try to install a couple of chips. Morgan gets it on right away and boasts about it to Melissa, whose shaky hands made her drop the chip on her first go. But when Morgan’s stomach rumbles, Melissa announces that it would be their time to leave to have something to eat and do Morgan’s homework. Morgan reluctantly heads out with Melissa, saying bye to the boys before the lab door closes.

[hangovercurse]

Midterm Season

You have exams coming up and Colson isn’t happy about it at all

Request: “you should do one where the person is studying and colson is distracting her very fluffy”

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: As someone who has 3 exams in the next 2 weeks, I could use some of this rn

Word count 1242

masterlist

Colson was very proud of you. He loved that his girlfriend was getting a master’s degree. Every chance he got, he’d talk about you and how smart you were and how hard you worked.

But he also hated every minute of it. Because every moment you were studying or at class or working to pay for class, you weren’t spending with him. He especially hated when exams came around, because you wouldn’t come out of your office for basically a whole week.

And guess what time it was. Midterms. By day 3 Colson was basically dying from touch starvation. You had 2 exams on Friday and another the following Tuesday, so to say you were stressed out was an understatement. And Colson’s whining wasn’t helping your mood.

For the fifth time that day he walked into the room, leaning in the door frame. “How’s it going, babe?”

You didn’t even look up at him, too focused on the textbook in front of you. “It’s going, Cols. Just like it was an hour ago.” You didn’t mean to be short with him, but he was really getting on your nerves. If you didn’t pass these exams, you could end up an entire semester behind, which means you would miss the hiring spree that happened after spring graduation. You couldn’t afford any distractions, but that’s all Colson wanted to be.

You didn’t see his shoulders slump at your words. He walked further into the room, flopping onto the futon that laid behind you and pulling out his phone. “Colson, I can’t entertain you right now.” You sighed, flipping between two textbook pages to try and compare diagrams with text.

He frowned, looking up at you. “I just wanna spend time with you. I know you’re busy but I thought I could at least sit in the same room as you.” He mumbled, trying to remind himself that you weren’t mad at him, just the world.

You didn’t respond, just kept taking notes from your book. Colson would occasionally chuckle at something on his phone, and after the fourth time you wanted to take it from him and throw it across the room. “I can’t focus when you’re in here, Colson.” You sighed, angrily. “Seriously, can you get out? I really need to do well on these tests so I need to study.”

“Babe, I’m literally just sitting here.” You stared at him blankly. “So you’re saying that my presence is bothering you?”

“Your words, not mine.” You sighed, turning back to your notes. A part of your brain knew you were being unreasonable, he wasn’t really doing any harm by being there. He just happened to be the only thing nearby you could take your stress out on.

Colson wanted to get mad at you, tell you that you were being cold. But he also knew that he put you through this whenever he had an album deadline, so he understood. So, he swallowed his pride and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck. “Colson, what are you doing? I just told you I need to focus.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “I know, but you’ve been studying for almost 72 hours straight. You need a break.” You rolled your eyes, focusing back on your material. Colson sighed when he realized you were just going to ignore him. “Please take a break? For me?” He pleaded, tilting his head to try and find your eyes, but you were still staring at your textbook.

“Let me finish this chapter, then I’ll take a small break.” You were lying, but you thought if you told him that, then he would leave you alone. It didn’t work.

“Nope.” He mumbled, lips pressing into your hair again. “We’re gonna make dinner together and then you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.” You didn’t acknowledge his words, flipping a page.

He grumbled, moving around to stand on the side of the chair and wrapping an arm around your middle. In an instant he picked you up bridal style, much to your dismay. “Colson, stop.” You tried to push him off of you, but he was much stronger than you. He laughed, walking you out to the kitchen. “Colson, this isn’t funny, put me down.”

He finally set you down on the kitchen counter, his arms wrapping around your middle. You pushed his chest, a frown on your face. “You know I have to work, why are you being so fucking needy?”

He tilted his head, a smile on his face, “you’re really cute when you’re mad, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to push him away from you once again. “I don’t do this when you’re working on music, why can’t you just leave me alone for a few hours?” His smile was only making you more upset. “You’re not even taking this seriously, Cols. This is really important to me and its like you don’t even care. I can’t entertain you every goddamn minute.”

His eyebrows furrowed, getting serious. “Babe, I do care that this is important to you, but I care about your health more. I don’t think I’ve seen you ingest anything that isn’t caffeine or pretzels for three days. You won’t take care of yourself, so I have to. And if that means you getting mad at me, so be it.”

You rolled your eyes, shoulders slumping. “I can take care of myself later. But there won’t be a me to take care of if I don’t pass these classes.”

Colson sighed, hands grabbing yours, “baby, your grades don’t define you. Okay? One bad test isn’t gonna ruin your life. Yeah, it’ll suck, but it’s nothing you can’t overcome.” He kissed your forehead.

You leaned your head against his chest, letting out a defeated sigh. “I just really want to get a good job and I won’t get a good job if I don’t graduate on time. And I won’t graduate on time if I don’t pass these classes and I won’t pass these classes if I don’t study.”

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Y/N Y/L/N, you are the smartest person I know. Just being in grad school is an accomplishment. On top of that you are an amazing girlfriend, an amazing pseudo-mom, and the most amazing person I’ve ever met. Any employer would be lucky to have you.” Colson tilted your head up with his hand, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “But you gotta live long enough to get employed, and that’s not gonna happen if coffee rips a hole in your stomach.”

You nodded, a frown still on your face. “I’m sorry I was being so mean earlier.” You grumbled.

Colson chuckled, backing away from you and towards your cupboards, “I’ll forgive you if you make dinner with me. And come to bed before 3am tonight.”

You sighed, hopping off the counter, “I suppose I could sacrifice one night for you.” You walked over to the stovetop, where he was placing a pot on the burner. You wrapped your arms around him, head resting against his back. “I love you.”

He smiled and turned to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and picking you up. You giggled and wrapped your legs around his middle, hands clinging to the back of his neck. He pressed quick pecks all over your face, “I love you too.”

[samstrugglingwithlife]

S/O Flinching And Raising Their Arms In Self Defence Due To Past Trauma

Genre: Angst with a good ending, hurt & comfort

Warning: Trauma, anxiety and fear. Heavy topic. Freaking Long ass.

Character(s): Tsukishima, Kuroo, Oikawa

A/N: I should’ve written this one sooner but my own circumstances got to me. I hope this gives you some form of relief and anyone who has these traumas or fears, it is best to seek help either professionally or from someone you trust the most. I am here and my inbox and private messages are always open if anyone ever needs to talk.

TSUKISHIMA

I feel like being as observant as he is, Tsukishima will notice how you react to your parents the few times he has been over to your house. He'd see how you flinch, yelp when they raise their voices, he even noticed your arms twitching as if they are ready to come up and hide your face. He saw everything but never said anything.

Sometimes he'd forget that things are rough at home because whenever you are with your boyfriend, you're always happy and cheerful; You forget all the things bothering you, even when he doesn't exactly put any effort, he just stays next to you.

It was a date like any other date, the two of you were hanging out at a nearby bakery after school, sharing a dessert and drinking your tea and milkshakes. You kept looking at your phone and fidgeting, your leg shaking impatiently; you weren't really paying attention to anything Tsukki was saying, lost in your own troubling thoughts.

Midway through his conversation, he noticed that you weren't paying attention and were lost in your own thoughts with a troubling expression on your face.

Tsukishima frowned as he noticed you fidgeting, "Y/n?" he called out your name. When you didn't respond, he called your name again. You didn't respond even when he called out your name several times.  

He raised his arm and brought it close to your face and snapped his fingers. You flinched and yelped, suddenly bringing your arms up to cover your face. You were quivering in fear. As soon as he saw panic in your eyes, Tsukishima reels back his arm and instantly appears by your side. "Y/n?" He asks as gently as he could, trying his best to hide the shaking of his own voice.

Luckily, there were only a few patrons other than you two in the bakery, so there wasn't a lot of eyes on you guys. 

Listen, Tsukki is also a teen, he wouldn't know how to handle the situation, but I'll be damned if he doesn't try to help you out to the best of his abilities.

He read somewhere that to help someone with anxiety attacks,  its best to remain as calm as possible; he had never felt more grateful to a small fact he had read so fleetingly. 

Tsukki rubs your back soothingly; "Hey, you know I won't hurt you, right?" he tries to keep his voice as gentle possible, making sure that you don't hear the slight panic in his voice.

He sticks by you until you calm down, he makes you sip your drink, and when you finally settle down, he sits back on his spot, making sure to keep his hands out of view.

"I'm sorry..." you apologise, not looking him in the eye. Tsukishima sighs, "It's okay Y/n. This isn't your fault, but you need to tell me what happened," he asks you.

Reluctantly, you tell him how your parents use violence as a form of discipline and punishment; you explain to him that they do not listen to you at all and say a lot of harsh words without a second thought.

To say he was mad was an understatement, Tsukishima was seething, but for your sake, he suppressed the anger from showing on his face. He listened and listened, and with each terrible thing you told him, his heart grew heavier.

When you had nothing more to say, as gently as he could, without a word, he reaches out and holds your hand across the table, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand.

"Honestly," he begins. "I don't know what to say... What's supposed to be an appropriate reaction to all of this".

"I'm angry, I am furious, I hate what I'm feeling..." he tells you. "Are you angry at me?" you ask. He looks at you as if you've offended him, "No, I'm not mad at you at all. None of this is your fault. I'm mad at your family. I hate them".

Tsukishima squeezes your hand affectionately and with sympathy as you blink away your tears. "What's been bothering your today?" he asks gently, nodding towards your phone. "My mom's mad at me for some reason..." you tell him.

"Do you want to stay at my place tonight?" he asks, you shake your head, "My mom will lose it and she's already super mad right now". Tsukishima thinks for a bit before saying, "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" 

He sees you perk up and smiles, "I'll stay at your place tonight, cool?" you nod excitedly, "Thank you!"

He orders you another dessert before walking home with you.

KUROO

Kuroo had no idea of the past you tried to forget and hide from everyone. The two of you met as interns at the same workplace, and because you guys clicked with each other so well, it wasn't long until you two became lovers.

If young Kuroo was super intuitive and observant, then imagine how perceptive he would be when he's all grown up and experienced. 

You've never told him about your abusive parents, but he had some idea that there were some traumas in your past that you were unwilling to discuss. He figured that you hated being yelled at and didn't deal well with intimidating people. He's seen you with superiors, you get nervous and antsy when you're doing a task because you're scared to make a mistake, you also stumble over your words in front of the boss, and sometimes just avoid overall confrontation.

He's never said anything. He figured that if you're not willing to share this with him, then you must have a reason. He does, however, always speaks to you in a gentle tone, he never loses his patience with you and tries to never show you the angry side of him, if it isn't directed at you.

But he only human, after all, and sometimes somethings can get the best of anyone. One of the employees, who worked as your's and his junior, had made a major mistake in a very important document; the deadline was right around the corner, and there was very little time to fix the problem. 

It was Friday evening, and you two had just arrived home after work when Kuroo received the e-mail from the said employee. As he read the mail over and over, his temper began to rise.

"Babe, are you okay?" you ask and place your hand on his back, soothingly, as he rakes his hand through his hair. "Fucking HELL!" he suddenly yelled and threw his phone on the couch. With a scared scream, you reeled back and raised your arms to cover your ears with your hands. 

He snaps out of his anger as soon as he sees your reaction; within seconds, he is by your side. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you're chanting with your eyes screwed shut, ears covered and body hunched over. 

Kuroo wraps his arms around you and brings your face against his chest, "Baby, I am sorry! I shouldn't have raised my voice," he says. You tremble in his hold, crying silently, "I'm sorry!"

Kuroo's heart wrenches in his chest, "Why are you apologising? I should be the one! I am so sorry Y/n, I shouldn't have yelled like that," he apologises. "Even though I knew you don't like loud sounds, I still-" he sighs, frustrated with himself, "I'm sorry..."

You pull away from his chest and look up at him, your eyes still wet and fresh tears threatening to spill, "I-I know you didn't yell at me. I shouldn't have reacted like that..." you say with a shaky voice. "I know you would never hurt me, I'm sorry".

That night, the two of you laid in bed and talked about everything and nothing at all. When you tried to tell him of the past, he stopped you, "Maybe next time..." he said. "I don't want you to revisit those memories right now".

As the two of you snuggle with each other, and you slowly drift off to sleep you can bearly hear the words that Kuroo says to you, "I'll always keep you safe, Y/n. I promise".

You slept without nightmares that night.

Also, extra, but the employee that messed up got an earful in the men's room on Monday, one place where Kuroo knew you wouldn't hear him lose his cool. Angry Kuroo may be hot to the general population (at least, those who found him attractive anyway) but ask that rookie, he had never wanted to die more than in that moment he was getting an earful.

OIKAWA

You had been dating Oikawa since you guys were young, since highschool. He had helped you get through all the tough times and knew what you feared and your trauma. 

He had always been careful not to raise his voice or speak with malice in front of you; he even made sure that Iwaizumi didn't resort to violence in front of you, and that Kyoutani stayed far far far away from you.

Surprisingly, there was no incident or episode outside of your home; but that also meant that he had never seen the extent your trauma and how it affects you.

When you guys were teens, he made you a promise that he will take you away from your toxic home and give you a life without worry and fear. He had kept his vow, and as soon as you two graduated, he helped you get admission in a university in Argentina, and you two moved out of Japan, never to look back on your terrible home and family.

Sometimes, when a long time passes, people tend to forget the promises of the past; the same had happened with Oikawa. Obviously, this didn't mean that he loved you any less, it was just that somehow as life went on that old promise from his young days buried itself in the back of his mind.

Oikawa was getting ready to leave for practice; you were following him around, reminding him of some things he needed to bring on his way home.

"Tooru, we're out of milk". Oikawa smiles, "Okay, babe, got it". "We don't have butter- you dropped your sock- and grapes". Oikawa sighed, slightly irritated, "Okay, Y/n," he mumbled. "Tooru, you're forgetting your sunscreen," "Yep, Thanks". "Put the dirty clothes in the laundry," "Done". "The neighbours wanted to have dinner, I'm gonna tell them we're going, okay?" "Cool, cool".

"You got some mail from the bank, you have to check it". "Will do it when I come back". "Also-" Oikawa growled, "Also what?!" he said annoyed. He didn't notice you flinch, "You've been nagging me about dumb shit all morning!" He turns his glare towards you, "I Just need ONE FUCKING MORNING TO MYSLEF!" as soon as he raises his voice, you stumble backwards and cover your face with your arms. 

The moment he sees you recoil, he is reminded of the promise he made way back. Oikawa is filled with guilt and instantly reaches for you, he feels so much pain when you flinch and move away as he tries to touch you.

Very slowly, he reaches for you again, placing his hand on your arm covering your face. He sighs in relief when you allow him to lower your arm, but he is soon feeling even more guilty when he sees hot tears streaming down your eyes."Y/n, baby I am so sorry," he almost whispers, afraid that you'll reel back if he dares make a sound any louder than a whisper.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, I-I am so so so sorry Y/n, baby," he apologises and pulls you into a hug and allows you to cry into his chest.

He doesn't care if your tears are soaking through his jersey or he is getting deadly late for practice; his first priority is you. "I'm sorry!" you sob, old habit resurfacing after so long.

Oikawa gently moves you back and softly cups you cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, "Baby, please don't say sorry. I should be sorry! You were only doing your job".

You nod, wiping your tears and gently pushing his chest, "You're getting late," you tell him, your voice sounding wet, a sob threatening to break out at any moment. Oikawa pulls you back into the hug, "Screw that for now," he kisses the top of your head, "I can't leave you like this".

It doesn't take you long to calm down (Oikawa tried to make you laugh, "Y/n-chan! Punch me! You can kick the living shit outta me, I won't say anything, I promise! I deserve it anyway!"). Oikawa holds you close, rubbing your arms with his hands, "And?" he asks. "And?" you raise your brow, "What do you mean 'and'?"

Oikawa smiles awkwardly, guiltily, "You were going to say something before I decided to act like a dickhead". "Oh that!" "Yeah," he confirms.

"I was going to say, 'and I love you, take care'". Oikawa's face contorts with pain, guilt filling through his veins, he pulls you into a tight hug, "I love you too... Y/n- shit! I am so sorry!" You smile into the hug, "I forgive you".

"Fuck practice! let's do it!" "Get out". "Y/n-chan so mean!" 

[dynyamight]

meet cute number 47 is interesting!

send me a writting ask

47. Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation.

“You got all that, right?” Shinsou asks, readjusting his stance, so others can leave their classroom door easily.

Midoriya hums absentmindedly. He’s still quickly jotting down the last few digits onto his planner. “And, you said tomorrow morning, around 7? At the library?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou shrugs, “Or anytime really. The deadline isn’t until next month, you know.”

“I kinda just want to get it done, as soon as possible.”

Shinsou breathes out a snort. “Figured you’d say that much. Just make sure you got my number. Repeat it, if you need to.”

“No time.” Midoriya drops his bag to the side, shoving his now closed notebook inside. “Thank you! I’ll text you later tonight!” He offers hurriedly, before taking off down the campus halls.

Shinsou’s warning falls deaf to his rushed mind.

He has to run the entire way, in order to graciously catch the last bus for the hour. Sweaty and flushed, Midoriya slumps into his seat in relief. Fortunately, he was able to cop a seat for himself, settling by the window and his backpack right next to him.

Staring out, Midoriya tries to remind himself of the rest of his priorities he needed to do.

He still needed to start on Doctor Chiyo’s online Physiology exam, and gather his notes for the open book portion. It was a bit bothersome to handle tests online, but if the rest of class prefers it, there’s nothing Midoriya can do about it.

Speaking of which, Ochako had requested for copies of those exact same notes, since apparently she barely writes anything during lectures. He wants to suggest to her to just simply take better notes, but alas, he will gladly help her out.

And, finally, Midoriya has to collect reliable, approved research articles for his and Shinsou’s debate, in their argumentative project in Communications. Being assigned “PRO SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCE”, while being the most uninvolved people on the internet, Midoriya and Shinsou had a lot of work to do.

Not to mention it was already 18:00 by the time he reached the school’s dormitories. And yet, he needed to shower, make dinner, water his plants, and watch the newest episode of his favorite drama, airing tonight.

University was eating him alive.

Thankfully, he’s able to complete half of his list.

He finishes the exam with a 98%, and quickly snaps the pages of his notes over to Ochako and Iida, making sure to highlight the main topics questioned in the exam. Ochako sends a ‘thank you’ gif, and Iida texts a long, yet endearing message of gratitude.

Midoriya doesn’t have time to shower, instead blasting the TV volume loud, as he waters his indoor plants at the same time. He overwaters them a little bit, busy glancing back at the screen for too long. But, at least he’s able to watch the episode. He pouts when it ends on a cliffhanger, almost drowning his bonsai tree in frustration.

He’s only able to warm up a plate of leftovers, and read through only one research article, by the time it’s already blinking 21:30 on his phone. Sighing, Midoriya closes his laptop and grabs his cell phone instead.

An all nighter wasn’t preferable. But, if Shinsou is working overtime at his late night job, Midoriya supposes he can stay up and keep looking through more articles, until he has at least the required ten.

Flipping open his planner, Midoriya inputs Shinsou’s number into his phone. He adds his name, a contact photo of him sleeping, and finally taps a quick message.

(21:38) < You working?

When Shinsou doesn’t respond right away, Midoriya simply sets aside his phone on his desk. Stretching his arms, he sighs in defeat, now expecting Shinsou to be stuck at work.

He’s never worked at a restaurant, but he bets Friday nights can get pretty busy. And, Shinsou always complains that group outings and dates tend to stay over, even after the place is supposed to close. And, Midoriya trusts his word.

So, by the time his phone dings, Midoriya has been clicking through more articles on social media, bookmarking a few to go over later, as he went.

He lifts his phone, and with a bright screen, a message stares back at him.

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > Who’s this

Oh, he did forget to specify. But, Midoriya smiles, having a small prank in mind. There was no harm in teasing his friends, let alone Shinsou, who definitely needed a good laugh, now and then.

(21:58) < It's the cutie from your communications class ;)

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > So, no one

(21:59) < Haha! I guess you’re right about that

(21:59) < Anyways, it’s Izuku! You still working late, Hitoshi?

shinsou hitoshi (21:59) > This ain’t Hitoshi

Midoriya's face drops, blinking. Oh god, did he mistype the number?

(21:38) < Wait, you’re not???

Another text pops up, shortly after.

shinsou hitoshi (22:02) > You got the wrong number

Embarrassment burning his entire face red, Midoriya wishes he could delete himself from the world.

(22:03) < I’m so so so so sorry!

(22:03) < God, I thought I wrote down my friend’s number right

(22:03) < But, I was in this stupid rush to get on the bus that I didn’t make sure

(22:04) < And, listen, if I had missed that bus, I would’ve had to wait

(22:04) < Not like a few minutes wait

(22:04) < Like, a whole two hours wait!

shinsou hitoshi (22:05) > I didn’t ask

Deleting the conversation, Midoriya erases the new contact completely. And instead, he looks back to his planner, and retypes the numbers in his phone onto a new conversation.

Hopefully, he has typed the correct series of digits.

(22:07) < Hey, Hitoshi! It’s Izuku

unknown (22:08) > ...

unknown (22:08) > What the actual fuck

unknown (22:08) > You've still got the wrong number, you goddamn idiot

Slamming his phone onto his desk, Midoriya grabs a pillow off his bed and shoves it in his face. The temptation to scream sounds awfully pleasant, but it’s too late at night to do so. His dorm neighbors would definitely wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

What’s wrong? Oh, he has completely done one of the most dreaded imaginary scenarios in his head; text a complete stranger. Twice.

What was he supposed to do now? Never text back? Delete it? Block it?

How is he supposed to contact Shinsou now?

His phone dings again.

Lifting the pillow off his face slightly, Midoriya eyes his phone warily from his swivel chair.

That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Another text from the same stranger sounds a bit unheard of.

After a seconds-long hesitation, Midoriya lifts his phone and opens it once more.

unknown (22:13) > Double check next time

unknown (22:13) > You can fucking wait the two hours, dumbass

Midoriya grows a little irked. He has a bad feeling that his stranger isn’t too friendly, to say that least.

There was literally no reason to text back something so rude.

(22:14) < Well, that wasn’t nice

unknown (22:15) > Wasn’t trying to be

(22:15) < ..Are you always like this?

unknown (22:16) > Pretty much

(22:16) < That’s sad

unknown (22:17) > What’s fucking sad is that I was woken up from my sleep

unknown (22:17) > Because a damn moron didn’t write down the right number

Midoriya winces. He hadn’t even thought about the other person’s predicament, let alone if he had interrupted anything.

(22:20) > I really didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry :(

unknown (22:22) > Yeah whatever

(22:24) > You should try to go back to sleep, then

unknown (22:25) > I was

unknown (22:25) > But the same moron from before keeps texting me

(22:27) > Who?

(22:33) > Oh.

(22:33) > It’s me, huh?

unknown (22:34) > No shit

(22:35) > Right, of course. My bad!

(22:35) > I’m going to just stop now

unknown (22:36) > Thanks

(22:36) > For the umpteenth time, sorry! ><

(22:37) > Okay, Okay! I’m stopping now, for real

Midoriya desperately needs to call it a night.

After going through his nightly routine, he slips under his bedsheets, exhausted. He sets an alarm for 5:00 on his phone, hoping Shinsou will show up at the library, regardless of the missing confirmation text on Midoriya’s end.

He keeps his phone on awhile longer, swiping through his professors’ emails, before a surprising text notification pops in front of him.

unknown (23:01) > FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

(23:02) > …

(23:02) > What was that for??

unknown (23:04) > I CAN’T SLEEP

unknown (23:04) > GOD, I CAN’T GO BACK TO FUCKING SLEEP

unknown (23:05) > AND IT’S YOUR FAULT

(23:06) > What do you expect me to do????

unknown (23:07) > HAHAHAHA OH DON’T WORRY

unknown (23:07) > IF I CAN’T SLEEP, NEITHER CAN YOU

unknown (23:08) > AND IF YOU TURN YOUR PHONE OFF I WILL SEND HELLFIRE

(23:09) > Wait

(23:09) > No, please

(23:09) > My alarm is on my phone, I need it on

(23:10) > I need to go to an important meeting for a group project at 7:00!

unknown (23:10) > Aw, really? :0?!

(23:11) > Yeah! I really do!

unknown (23:11) > Sike. I don’t fucking care

unknown (23:12) > Hope you eat shit tomorrow

(23:13) > ..Why are you like this?

(23:13) > I could literally be a twelve year old, for all you know

unknown (23:14) > I doubt fucking twelve years do group projects

unknown (23:15) > But whether you’re a damn infant, or grown adult, I hate you

(23:16) > I wouldn’t say I hate you. That’s too harsh

(23:16) > But, wow, you are very unlikable :/

unknown (23:17) > That’s the fucking nicest thing anyone has said about me

(23:18) > It wasn’t supposed

(23:19) > Nevermind.

(23:19) > Do you have any friends? Just might as well ask

unknown (23:21) > Surprisingly yeah

(23:22) > Oh, so you also agree. That it’s a surprise

(23:22) > At least you’re self aware :0

unknown (23:23) > Yeah, they are annoying as hell

unknown (23:24) > But, also pretty good people, I guess

(23:25) > Pretty good or pretty dumb?

unknown (23:26) > SHUT IT

unknown (23:27) > Only I can make fun of them

unknown (23:27) > You. Don’t.

(23:28) > You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that

(23:29) > I’m sorry :(

unknown (23:30) > You like apologizing, huh

(23:29) > There’s a lot to apologize for tonight

unknown (23:30) > Still, you don’t have to say it every damn minute

(23:32) > You probably don’t ever apologize

unknown (23:33) > Fuck no

(23:35) > Right, of course

(23:36) > Well, you know what I need to do tomorrow

unknown (23:37) > Unfortunately

(23:38) > What about you?

unknown (23:39) > I’m covering a shift at my shit job at the ass crack of dawn

(23:40) > Unnecessary visual, but I digress

(23:40) > Uh, where do you work?

unknown (23:42) > No. I don’t even know your damn name

(23:43) > I told you?? It was in my first text

unknown (23:44) > Yeah, I ain’t scrolling

(23:48) > Well, it’s Izuku. Midoriya Izuku :)

unknown (23:49) > Great. I still ain’t giving you mine

(23:50) > ?? Is there anything I can know about you??

(23:50) > You know more about me, than I do about you

unknown (23:51) > You know I hate you

unknown (23:51) > That’s plenty

(23:52) > But, I have been staying up for you :(

unknown (23:53) > Because it’s your fault I can’t sleep

(23:54) > You aren’t feeling sleepy yet?

unknown (23:56) > ..Are you

(23:57) > I asked you first

unknown (23:58) > I asked you second

(23:59) > That

(23:59) > Look, it’s almost midnight

(24:00) > Oh, now, it’s actually midnight

unknown (00:01) > I have fucking eyes. I can see the time

(00:02) > And we BOTH have places to be tomorrow

(00:02) > So, let’s just sleep. Call a truce, please

unknown (00:03) > What about my petty retribution

(00:04) > PLEASE LET ME SLEEP

unknown (00:10) > FUCK

unknown (00:10) > FINE

unknown (00:11) > I STILL CAN’T SLEEP BUT WHATEVER

unknown (00:12) > HOPE YOU FUCKING OVERSLEEP TOMORROW

The rest of the night, Midoriya hears his phone go off, but he doesn’t bother to open the messages. Fortunately for him, the time staying awake quickly catches up to his body, the moment he shuts his eyes. And, in an instant, he falls asleep, heavy.

However, he’s jolted awake by the ringing of his phone, the tone alerting him of an incoming phone call. Banging his head on the headboard, Midoriya blindly grabs and answers his phone. “Uh, H-Hello?” He blurts quickly.

“Tch.” A low voice emits, “You owe me, Deku.”

Click. The phone call ends.

Confused, Midoriya hurriedly rubs his eyes open. Running his messy curls through his fingers, he lifts his bangs up, in order to correctly look at the time.

The time was 5:10. And, his 5:00 alarm had been off the entire time.

And, instead, that same unknown number from last night was his saving grace.

[skaylanphear]

Hi there! Do you have any advice on improving traction towards a fanwork/fic? I love writing—and it's not for notoriety by any means—but having validation and feedback also feels nice (I hope that's not conceited). What would you recommend to someone without a large audience/follower base? I do "advertise" on tumblr when my work is written/updated on AO3. How did your journey start? Thank you!

This is an interesting question and I doubt most people are going to like the answers, but here we go:

So, first and foremost, you need to be realistic about why you're creating in the first place. If you're doing work in a fandom that is older, where content has stopped coming out, or that is simply smaller, you're not going to get much engagement, period. There will, of course, be activity in these fandoms, but it will be far less and the people involved—while they may view your work—will be less likely to comment/spread it around simply because there's not much going on. So if you're creating in that sort of environment (which can be a really good environment if you're looking for something chill with no pressure), then you have to be prepared for low engagement, even if the people you do meet and who are willing to talk about your work are more regularly in your sphere. You can probably make better/closer friends in these sorts of fandoms, if you're willing to try.

But, on the other end of this, if you're coming into a huge fandom late, it's also going to be harder to wade through the massive following to get your stuff out there. For example, in both the Miraculous and Sk8 fandom, I started work pretty early on, when the shows were still gaining traction, and so my "name" as a creator gained traction parallel to that growth, as opposed to when I started writing in the Voltron fandom. With Voltron, I came in super late and so what few fics I had that did gain traction took a lot longer to get there because people already had their fav content creators in the fandom, etc. It's not impossible to get popular in this situation—far from it—but it does take longer.

You'll also benefit from having finished works early on in a fandom's lifespan, at least with writing. This is because there's less competition for views and so more people will be filtered to your work, initially. This means that you have a better chance of getting those comments and kudos. Having a finished work increases this engagement because people look for finished works before works in progress. Generally, the length of a fic doesn't matter much for popularity, so long as it's DONE. When I was writing in the ML fandom, quite a few of my earlier fics were shorter, and they compete in popularity with my longer fics, because people care more about having a finished story, not a long story. That's why when it came to Only Practice Makes Perfect in the Sk8 fandom, I worked hard to get that shit done, because it was the most popular story I had in the fandom and I decided—like an idiot—to make it a long fic. Which, yeah, means people probably love it/remember it more in the long run, but if I hadn't finished it in 2 to 3 months, I'd have lost considerable traction as far as making a name within the fandom.

This leads into one of the most important points, if not THE MOST IMPORTANT point in gaining an audience—consistency. If you do want to be a successful creator, you Have To Be Consistent. This is the most difficult hurdle for all creators, and it is oftentimes impossible to make happen. If you want to aim for professionalism, which a lot of fandom creators don't care about (which is fine), then consistency is how you get there. Nobody wants to read a fic or follow an artist who doesn't stick to creating what they start (RIP all my unfinished works and the people who left me as a result, LOL). Using my most recent works as an example, I very, very, very consistently updated Only Practice Makes Perfect multiple times a week. To the point where people got comfortable expecting it, which is the key variable here. When people become comfortable that you will regularly create content, they not only stick around, but will be more interactive with you and your work. Nobody likes the disappointment of getting involved with a work only for that work to rarely get updates. Most people don't have the attention span to care. I'll admit, if I read a fic that's not finished and the writer takes one week to update, then one week, then THREE weeks, I probably will, like, forget about it. That's just life.

The best thing you can do is schedule. And again, this is the HARDEST thing to do, because it holds the creator to a deadline. Most people who create in fandoms don't want that kind of pressure—and that's fine. I go back and forth on when I have scheduled releases and when I don't, depending on what I'm aiming to do. But if you to retain your audience, telling them that you will update a work regularly on such and such a day and such and such a time, it creates something for them to remember. If they're invested in your work, they will think, "oh, it's Friday, that means such and such is coming out with something new." But, with that in mind, you also have to commit to a schedule that people will remain invested in. Which basically means you can't put things out more than a week away from each other, unless you're really, really famous, lol. If I told people I was going to go on a two week update schedule, I would lose most of my audience. But a week is long enough for people to both still remember and anticipate. That's just how the scheduling of the world works. And if you're an artist that's working on a big project, then you have to share progress, or pieces of what you're doing on a regular basis. That's what generates "buzz" and keeps you relevant. And, yeah, that's a really hard schedule to commit to, because it's a lot of work. BUT this consistency is where you see people being successful. Popular youtubers may not have gained their popularity by being consistent, but most sure do retain it that way. And again, there are outlying exceptions, but they generally ARE exceptions.

Speaking of hard work, here's probably the second hardest thing to accomplish—you have to be prolific. Especially as a writer. You have to write A LOT if you want to gain an audience. And yeah, that means you have to work, a lot. I love my work, so I enjoy that "grind," and I also have developed a lot of strategies to work around writer's block and every other obstacle that tends to catch people up. I work in a very professional manner—I do outlines, and drafts, and plan. I do a lot of stuff that people who do this kind of thing for fun can't be bothered with (and that's fine), but that's because I find it to be what works best in creating an efficient environment. I'm also very, very NOT lazy, lol. I was raised in an environment where you have to work for everything that you want. My parents didn't buy me my first computer, or snowboard, or what have you. We were tight on money and if I wanted something, they couldn't help me—I had to get that shit on my own. And I also grew up on a farm, where hard work was a staple of how you did things. You did things the right way, even if it was the hard way. You can't cut corners and it's the same with this. If you want it, you have to actually do the work, that's it. Some people get lucky with popularity, most don't. Most famous actors didn't become well-known off their first efforts, they had to keep trying and keep working and then they have to continue to do that to stay relevant. So if that doesn't sound great to you, then you might want to not focus on your audience and just create because you enjoy it, lol. Sometimes that's what I do too, when I don't wanna deal with the pressure.

Moving on, here's another point that nobody is going to like. Simply put, you also have to be good at what you do. I think some people don't realize that I've been writing fic for over fifteen years. I currently have nearly 2 millions words worth of fics on AO3 and that doesn't include a majority of the stuff I've ever written. I practice A LOT. I write every day. And I'll tell ya, when I started out in middle school, my stuff was not good. But I worked hard, I ignored the hate, and I kept going. That is the only way you will ever get better at anything. There's no quick way to become a better writer, or artist. And a vast majority of people are only going to pay attention to your stuff if it's quality work. Getting to that point is a process, on top of then creating stuff that fits into popular molds. Not only am I good at what I do (and I don't care how arrogant that sounds—I've worked my ass off), but when it comes to fandoms, I rarely write "rare pairs" and "crack ships." Generally, if it's popular, that's where I am. That makes a big difference and I honestly don't have sympathy for people who write rare pairs and such and then complain about lack of engagement. You knew what you were getting into (it's mostly the Miraculous fandom that gave me this bitterness). If you're not writing what people WANT to read, then your audience is simply going to be smaller. And that audience doesn't owe you their attention, no matter how frustrating it is or how good your work is. I could be the best writer in the world, but if I'm writing RekixCherry fic, I have nobody to blame but myself when nobody reads it. BUT if that's your passion, and writing a certain unpopular thing makes you happy, then, again, you need to not be concerned with traction and your audience.

The last point I'll make is that it matters HOW you present yourself online. A good chunk of the well-known creators in any fandom are, simply put, older people. And those that aren't, and are able to connect with those older creators, have generally created a bubble around themselves of maturity and, like, of being nice, lol. A lot of creators are skittish these days, and if you're an asshole (anti) or fight a lot over stupid shit, you may get a bigger audience, but you will isolate yourself from other creators. And this is important because oftentimes it is your exposure to other creators that will get your work circulating. The reason I got popular in the ML fandom? I wrote a short angst fic and a really popular artist shared it/talked about it and the rest was history. But if I'd had a habit of being an asshole, probably wouldn't have happened. And, granted, I'm not saying don't voice your opinions, but if you're loud all the time, it does turn people off. Especially creators because they are oftentimes the ones being attacked. They don't want to pull more of that negative bullshit into their lives. I'll admit, when I was in the ML fandom, I was down for a fight, but then that's what people came to expect, and it probably did turn others off, and then when I didn't fight, or didn't think the way my audience thought I should, it, again, turned people off. It's really not worth it unless being that type of person IS your platform.

So, that's all the advice I can give, I suppose. And even if you do all this stuff, that still doesn't mean you're going to be popular. At the end of the day, the thing that I stick to is this—I do what I want, I love what I do, and I work hard. If I'm in a position to worry about all that other stuff, then sure, I do, but otherwise… There's no easy way to become popular and, quite frankly, it's better to just "live" working hard and being a decent person than it is to focus on all this bullshit. I've created a working environment where I function within these "points" quite naturally, so it's not something I think about (except for schedules, lol). Sometimes I get popular in fandoms, sometimes I don't. At the end of the day, it comes down to how much work you're willing to do, because you will always be giving more than you are getting back, so you have to at least enjoy what you're doing.

Seriously, just do it because you love it. And if the pressure of everything above is something you don't love (I like a good, high pressure situation, lol), then don't do it that way—it's not worth the grief.

[miss-smutty]

The Destructive Secret - Chapter 1

A/N- So first of all, extremely mature themes, strictly 18+ only This is my baby, I love it and I'm so excited for it but oh my lord! My poor heart writing this. This is going to be a super angsty series. Since I got the idea I've been desperate to get it written, even though it's going to break my heart. The dynamics of it have been driving me insane because I want the first chapter to have a air of mystery to it but then how do I tag it without giving it away? 😩 So I've purposefully left out names in this chapter so you don't know who's who and all will be revealed in good time. Can you work out what's happening? I'd love to hear your thoughts ❤️

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Summary- You've got a secret to hide and it's going to cause complete and utter destruction.

Word count- 2,197

Warnings- Mature themes, swearing, smut, angst, deceit, lies

18+ only!

Taglist-: @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke

Posted: 25th Feb 2021

"Babe, don't hate me... I have to go out of town for another conference this weekend" The deep confliction you feel everytime you do this to your boyfriend, never gets any easier.

"I don't hate you, we'll make up for it next week. How about a little romantic trip, just the two of us" he says sweetly, making your heart tug, you wish he was a bad guy it would make this a lot easier.

"That sounds like a great plan, I'll make it up to you tonight" you say, distracted by your thoughts.

"Well that sounds... Intriguing. I'll see you tonight babe" he hung up the phone but you kept it to your ear, still deep in thought before finally realising and putting the phone on the desk next to your computer.

You finished typing up the letter you were working on before the phone call, looking back and forth from your phone to the screen of your computer, still distracted by your thoughts. The butterflies in your stomach making you feel sick. You gave in and grabbed your phone, typing out a text quickly.

-I've told him. Pick me up from work at 5.30 Friday - you stop typing to think for a minute, before finishing the text with two kisses - xx

You try to get your head back into work, the neverending pile of deadlines building up on your desk next to you. When your phone vibrates the desk loudly, you look around to make sure no one's watching you before giving in to your curiosity and picking up your phone.

-Great, see you Friday. I can't wait to see you xxx

You try to feel excited but the overwhelming amount of guilt you feel always overrides that. You wish it could be different, that you could've met in a different way. That you could actually thoroughly enjoy the time you have together rather than feeling a deep shamefulness everytime you meet.

You've got yourself into something so deep that you can't think of a way out of it, either way it ends somebody is going to be hurt. In fact, one way or the other, you're all going to be hurt.

                             *******************

"Hey babe, did you have a good day?" Your boyfriend greets you as you walk into the kitchen, filled with the aromas of the food he was cooking for you.

"It was ok, busy. This smells amazing. What you making?" You ask, kissing him on the cheek as he stands over the stove, stirring a pot of delicious smelling liquid.

"I'm just making a sauce for the pasta" he says letting go of his wooden spoon and grabbing you by the hand to spin you around and face him. 

"Did you bring dessert?" He says into your ear, moving your hair to the side and planting kisses down your neck.

"What no, was I supposed to?" You couldn't remember him saying anything about dessert, yet you'd been pretty distracted most of the day.

"I'm sure you said something about making it up to me tonight?" He smirks, pulling you in for a lingering open mouthed kiss.

"Oh, yeah. That kind of dessert" you say, pulling away slightly.

"Are you ok? You seem kinda ... Distracted" he asks, a look of concern on his face as you shuffle though the papers in your bag.

"No, sorry babe. It's just work, I've had a lot on my mind today" you lie, sort of. You had a lot on your mind it just wasn't work related, even though you wish it was.

As you put the papers back into your bag you can feel your phone vibrating. Fuck sake, not now. Becoming flustered you accidentally drop the bag onto the glass table, nearly jumping out of your skin from the loud noise your phone made as it hit the glass. 

You notice your hands shaking as you hold your phone in front of you, cursing yourself under your breath for being so pathetic. Reading the text has your heart beating at an unbelievable pace, making you light headed and dizzy. 

-Can you meet me tonight? I hate this, I hate not being able to see you whenever I like. Please Y/N xxx

You pull out a chair and sit down before you fall down, why do you have to be pulled about in so many different directions? It was so hard leading a double life and keeping your dirty little secret, it literally ate away at your soul. You were a shell of the person you used to be, completely consumed with lies and deceit.

Sleepless nights, tossing and turning caused by guilt and work schedules and then still having to sneak away whenever you could. You lost yourself, trying to keep two people happy while completely forgetting about yourself.

"Babe?" 

"Huh?" You say looking up from your phone, you hadn't realised he'd been speaking to you.

"I said, red or white? He asks, furrowing his brow at you.

"Sorry, what?" You look confused, shaking your head as if to shake the thoughts right out of there. You have no idea what he's talking about.

"Wine? Foods ready. Do you want red or white... wine?" Looking more concerned.

"Oh, white please. Thank you, this looks amazing" you say, putting your phone into your shirt pocket and tucking your chair under the table, ready to get started. It really did look amazing, you don't deserve him. 

You watched him sit down opposite you, his ridiculously blue eyes catching yours as his fork passes to his lips. He smiles that sweet smile at you, the one that made you fall in love with him all those years ago. The memories of the years flash in front of your eyes in an instant, the first time he told you he loved you, the first kiss, the first time you made love, beautiful, beautiful memories. You can feel a tear prickling at the corner of your eye, lowering your head, hoping he didn't see. 

"Are you sure you're ok?" He asks, reaching across the table to hold your hand in his. The feel of his touch on your hand sends shivers down your spine and the tears spill from your eyes without warning. You hear his chair screech as he pushes it backwards and rushes to your side.

"Babe, please tell me what's wrong?" He kneels In front of you while you rest your head in your hands, completely overwhelmed with guilt. This poor man, my man, how could I do this to him?

"Don't be nice to me, I don't deserve it" you say, self-loathing.

"What are you talking about? Come here" he pulls you up and sits down with you on his lap, lifting your face to look at him which makes you cry even more. 

"I've been so distant with you, so consumed in my damn work that I've been totally neglecting you - " you cry, looking up at him sincerely, tears streaming down your face messily " - I'm so sorry" if only he knew how sorry you actually were. You loved him, he was your first everything, which makes it even harder for you.

"Hey don't be so silly. I'm a big boy, I think I can handle you being a little distracted, it just means when we do get time together it's more special. You've put up with so much from me, with the tabloids and papparzzi. You took it all on when we were still so young and never complained once, this is nothing compared to that" he wipes the tears away from your cheeks. Oh baby, please don't blame yourself.

"I would do it all over again, you know? It was worth it, I'd never change it. You're my childhood sweetheart, we've grown up together and I... I" you're balling like a baby now.

"Shh, baby. Please don't worry about it. You need a break, you've been working way too hard" if only he knew.

He nudges the side of your face with his soft bearded cheek until you give in and look up at him. The tears are also starting to well in his eyes and he smiles at you, at how silly and emotional you're both being. You suck it up and wipe the tears away with your arm.

"Come on, I've got some making up to do" you say, leading him to the bedroom. Your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket - an incoming call. You reach in and hold down the off button, you'll deal with that later.

He stops you before you make it to the bedroom and pushes you hastily against the wall, unable to wait much longer. His hands feel their way down your body until he reaches the hem of your skirt and pushes it up to your stomach, revealing your lacey panties. Your breath hitches as he pushes himself against you, the feel of his hard cock against your exposed panties makes you forget everything else for a moment. 

"I love you so fucking much" he says against your lips, biting gently on your bottom one while his hands run up and down your body. You reach down to unbutton his jeans, it's all very rushed and desperate, you need to feel each other, feel the love you have for each other. You need to show him, a painful desire that burns in your chest to show him that you love him.

So you push him backwards towards the bedroom door, your hands still working his jeans as your lips lock, never pulling apart.

Shoving him slightly too hard back onto your super-king bed in the middle of the room, you waste no time straddling him. He reaches up to unbutton your shirt, thrusting into you as he does so, the need so bad it hurt. You stopped his fingers fiddling with your button midway down your torso so you could pull off his jeans and boxers, while he props himself up on the bed with his elbows. Watching intently as you take control.

You kneel between his thighs, smoothing your hands down those thick muscles. Waiting for him to position himself at the end of the bed, making sure he has a good view before you run your pierced tongue up the shaft, all the way to the tip. Teasing him, knowing full well how it makes him feel. The ways his head falls back, his mouth hung open and the sounds falling from his lips, stir something deep inside you. It makes you feel hot to know you're turning him on this much.

Circling your pointy tongue around the tip, a sultry stare straight into his eyes makes him groan. You take his tip into your mouth, swallowing the drop of precum, licking your lips for him. Sucking on his cock, feeling it throbbing in your mouth, growing impossibly harder.

You can tell he can't handle it anymore when he pulls you onto him so you're sitting on his cock, your walls stretching around him making you both suck in air at the sensitivity. He leans back up to finish unbuttoning your shirt while thrusting his big cock, deep within you. Finally getting your shirt off, he grips his fingers into your ass cheeks, squeezing them as he sits up. Bouncing up and down on his dick, while you stare into each others eyes, the intimacy overwhelming you. Lost in the moment for a precious amount of time, feeling the sensation of your loves cock filling you up beyond limits.

You pull his shirt over his head, revealing his beautifully, tanned body. Holding on tightly to you while he pushes himself up the bed so he can lean his back against the headboard. Watching your tits move as you bounce on his cock, thrusting into you with his jaw clenched. You know that look, the way he's desperately trying not to come too quickly.

Both of your breathes are getting faster as you bounce harder, the gripping sensation rises through you.

"I love you" you say between breaths, leaning down to say it into his ear. 

"Fuck - " he groans, pulling out of you quickly before he come, your rising orgasm fading away. 

" - fuck Sorry, babe. That was too fucking much" He rolls you over underneath him and quickly positions himself back at your entrance, easing in painfully slowly.

Now thrusting into you at an unforgivable pace, making you gasp everytime he slammed into you. Pushing your knees back towards your face and settling himself between them, holding your head with both hands and gazing into your eyes. He's ready, you're ready, you can feel it rising as he rolls his hips into you. The look of love in his eyes making you feel emotional, he's panting and you're moaning as he lets go and pumps into you making you lose it and scream out as you gush everywhere. Holding onto the sheets, tightly, as you wait for your toes to uncurl, still inside of you he lays on your stomach trying to catch his breath. Your muscles cramp up and shake making you wince as you try to move out from underneath him

"Are you ok?" His head snaps up, concerned.

"Yeah, just cramp" you whine, stretching out your legs when he rolls to your side.

"I really do love you" you say moving into his arms.

"I know you do. I love you too" he says kissing the top of your head. You're brought back to reality when you hear your phone vibrating again on the floor, in the pocket of your shirt. 

"You're popular tonight" he says noticing the sound of your phone as it vibrates the floorboards.

"It's just work, it can wait until tomorrow" you say, content being in his arms for a little longer and forgetting that anything or anyone else exists. Even if it is only for a moment.