#and heart with smudged lipstick and a shit eating grin

[prisma-palace]

why Hello tumblr. do we fw eclipse perhaps. giggles

[virtue-and-beneviolence]

okay so I’ll tell this to anyone who’s willing to listen but picture this; putting makeup on shuji. It’s a well known fact that he’s a pretty boy and he’d look so good with glitter and eyeliner on his face so when you tell him “hey I’ve always wanted to do those couple vlogs” and he asks u what kind and u tell him that u wanna try slutty eye makeup on him and he’s ALL FOR IT hed never deny you happiness so if putting some lipstick on him gets you happy then why tf not? You set up the camera to record yalls lil makeup tutorial and honestly kinda surprised how easily he agreed to this whole thing like you were expecting him to reply with “sure baby as long as you suck me off afterwards♡” like ok?? But anyways so you’re putting the makeup on him while kinda explaining to the camera what ur doing and he’s such a lil whore bruh the way he’s looking at you with his already slutty eyes as he can’t keep his hands off of u, literally started by holding your waist as you dab concealer under his eyes and as you move towards the eyeliner part u warn him not temper with your artwork as his hands are literally kneading your ass like dough and he goes “whaaa?? baby I’m literally helping you relax wym?” Has a lil shit eating grin on his face and then pulls u onto his lap as u whisper scream at him lowkey and his excuse you “babe I’ve seen you more than enough to know that putting eyeliner is serious business so im just helping you have a steady hand if you’ll sit comfortably it’ll go well duh” at this point you’re not even sure what you’re doing and honestly even forgot about the vlog thing he’s just so painfully distracting who said it’ll be a great idea to put makeup on him being so close? Now it’s time for lipstick and u ask him which shade he wants from the variety of lipsticks you got and he pretends to think for a bit saying “hmnn the same one you got on rn doll” as he holds you by the neck with one hand and pulls you towards him to give you a big and lasting kiss safe to say that the lip combo you applied on your lips so perfectly is now all smudged and half of it is transferred to his smirking lips but you couldnt care less he’s your pretty lil boy<3

Since I'm fully not doing match ups ATM anyway bc of circumstances and negligence,,,

This is gold, fucking GOLD but there's MORE-

OKAYOkayY look. The cat's out of the bag now. Shuji is actually so good at eyeliner okay. He will do your eyeliner. For fun. He will ask to do your eyeliner at 11 pm on a Wednesday night because he just wants to be close and have an excuse to look at your face close up and UGH SHUJI IN HIS GLASSES WITH HIS CONCENTRATION FACE AND MUSSED HAIR IS UGH SO DELECTABLE.

Shuji starts off by very casually tugging you closer by your calves to nestle you into his lap and tucks your legs around his waist. And when you start buffering a little because no one can get used to his cheeky charms istg he puts his forehead to yours, chuckles and pecks at your lips asking if you're ready. He likes to give you interesting looks and you feel the wet liner brush just below and to the side of the outer areas of your eyes and you're confused at first. But when he shows you the final look, he's written a tiny "sin" and "punishment" in pink liner complete with a tiny freehand heart jdkxsmmeckdk

Ugh. Doing shujis make up. Getting your make up done by shuji. Both are also good.

I am, however compelled to share that doing his hair is a nightmare. You've never met a pickier self proclaimed low maintenance man in your LIFE.

[the32ndbeat]

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣.𝐲𝐧 - [ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟛 ]

pairing: stalker!jaehyun x fem!reader ( ft twice’s tzuyu, loona’s haseul )

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual harassment, mature themes, mentions of drugs, smoking, extreme views, misogyny, yandere themes

a/n: unedited! it’s been forever since I updated this but also considering if I should turn this into a tbz series at my tbz writing blog so we’ll see how this goes.

taglist: I don’t have one yet and I’m seeing how this does since I’m thinking whether I should convert it into a tbz series. Please do lemme know if you guys want to see this continued!

disclaimer: everything written here is FICTIONAL and I am in no way saying that the mentioned characters act like that irl!

masterlist  

(inspired by netflix’s you and the book of the same name by caroline kepnes)

The first thing that registers in my mind is how fucking loud this place is. Seriously, what is it with college parties and their inherent need to blast music loud enough to wake the entire neighbourhood within a five mile radius? Before I even step within the premises or even make it to the front yard, the whole fraternity house seemed to shake from the loudness of the bass-boosted music when viewed from a distance away. I even had to squint as I approach, the strings of fluorescent party lights draped all over the place glowing so brightly it almost hurt to look straight.

A few drunk college frat boys stumble past me, their hair sticky and messy with sweat and their breaths reeking of cheap alcohol. Their steps are wobbly and I can even see drool and remnants of vomit hanging at the corner of their mouths. My heart clenches with pure disgust and I grit my teeth as I watch them laugh out loud over nothing, their brains a pink, unintelligent mush in their skulls, probably rotted by endless drinking and fucking. All part of the college frat experience.

I wonder if they enjoy being a complete waste of space while wasting mummy and daddy’s money to put them through college.

I look away and ignore the growing irritation in me. This is the sort of party your friends wanted you to go with them to? I thought your friends were bad influences but scratch that, they’re fucking horrible. They taint you, taint your innocence and put you at risk around such dangerous men who do not deserve to be even a mile within your presence. As I walk closer, the house looks even more hideous up close.

It’s decorated in the worst way I’ve seen a house decorated. It’s as if someone threw a bunch of random fairy lights bought in the brightest, blinding neon colours that simply do not go together over a sloppy looking house and the front yard is littered with empty, red plastic cups and is that a discarded bra I see over there?

I tiptoe over the trash laying around on the grass and try to avoid the gyrating bodies of college students who clearly have no sense of rhythm. My skin feels grimy within just a few minutes of being here and I can’t wait to leave but there is no way I’m leaving when I know that you will be here. The thought of you being surrounded by such vermins makes me sick to the stomach and I want to get you out of here. The only place you should rightfully be, is at my place where there are no revolting men who only love to drink cheap alcohol, party till sunrise, get high off smoking a blunt, yell ‘turn up!’ every few minutes as if it’s muscle memory in their tiny, almost non-existent brains and do anything but be a productive member of society.

As I push through the double doors, the nauseating smell containing a mixture of intoxicating alcohol, smoke and cheap cologne almost knocks me backwards. My hand grips tighter to the wooden door and I force myself in. Inside, the house is dim but bright at the same time with disco and laser lights. A massive boombox and a pair of equally large loudspeakers sit at the corner of the room and some hip hop tune is being played while people dance and drink and smoke to their hearts’ delight. You’d never believe these kids were supposed to be the future.

Oh, how disappointed their parents must be.

A girl in skimpy shorts and a tube top looks at me with unadulterated want and beckoning in her eyes while staring at the varsity jacket I’m wearing, no doubt replaying fantasies of fucking a college athlete in her mind and trying to guess which sport I supposedly play. I gaze blankly at them before turning away and I can see her shift from the corner of my eye, obviously bothered by the lack of attention. It’s like I can almost see the gears whirring in her brain. Did she not show enough cleavage? Is more skin needed to get my attention? Sometimes people are so predictable and readable that it’s almost pathetic.

Other times, I might have lowered my standards and settled for a casual fuck with someone like that but not today. Today, I’m a man on a mission. A mission to look out for you.

My eyes scan the room but it’s too dim to see anything within four feet in any direction. The flashing lights threaten to overwhelm me along with the stink of the place and booming music and I can feel my annoyance evolving into anger. I repress the urge to slap the shit out of a guy in a red bandana who screams ‘turn up’ all of sudden, practically effectively bursting my eardrums.

I almost bump into a couple eating each other’s faces out when someone yells out at me.

“Hey, you!”

The music is so loud that I almost don’t hear it. I whip around and sure enough, it’s tube top girl making her way over to me. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Not only do I have to find and save you from this sleazy place and have to squeeze in with a crowd of sweaty, brainless college kids who know nothing but party in a tiny, dirty, smelly frat house but now I also have tube top girl hot on my heels?

The things I do for you, y/n and we haven’t even properly gotten to know each other yet.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Tube top girl smiles and up close, I can see that her mascara is smudged and her hair is slicked back with an unholy amount of gel into a tight little bun which only makes her face look wider and her forehead exposed with a sheen of sweat covering it. Her lipstick is reapplied and I know for a fact that she has done it to impress me. Her top is also inched a little lower, as if that makes her anymore appealing.

I smile in a dismissive way, in a way that showed that I cared, but not really.

“Hey,” I reply flippantly.

“Crazy party huh?” She grins, satisfied that she’s got my attention now. Women.

I let my eyes drift to her breasts and look back up at her expectant, puppy dog eyes that are so eager to please it’s actually embarrassing.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name? I’m Meg.”

“I’m Jaehyun.”

“You part of any sports team in school?” And just like that I know that tube top girl must have had fantasies of fucking a college athlete.

So predictable.

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team.” I say and her smile widens, a playfulness in her eyes as she leans her chest in closer in what was meant to be a sexy gesture.

“Oh, is that so? I’ve never really talked to a competitive swimmer before,” she replies in a sultry voice and I smirk.

“Well, here I am. Am I every bit of the guy you imagined a college swimmer to be?” I whisper in an equally sultry voice. Let her think she has me wrapped around her finger. It’s easier that way. Better for her to think I’m enthralled with her and her breasts than let her cling onto me the entire night.

“Mhm,” she says, “of course.”

I’m about to reply when something catches my eye. From the window, I see you and your friends stumbling and swaying down the sidewalk, away from the party. Internally, I feel my rage simmering again but not at anyone. At myself.

How was I so late that I didn’t manage to stop this from happening? How are you already drunk? How did this happen?

A million questions are racing through my mind and my vision almost blurs with white hot anger as I imagine a slimy frat guy placing his greasy hands on you while you sit there, drunk and uninhibited in that dress that seemed to accentuate your every single curve. You look simply gorgeous in that dress and I fucking hate to think that other guys in this whole house may have made a pass at you. Why was I so late? Would I have been just a little bit earlier if tube top Meg didn’t stop me? I should have left the moment she decided to strike up conversation. This is my karma for letting other temptations get in the way. I vow to myself that this will never happen again as I extricate myself away from Meg’s clutches (“Hey! Where are you going?” She calls out and I ignore her).

I shove people out of the way and do not care for their protests and yelps. Fuck them and fuck this entire shithole of a house. I scramble through the door and maintain my distance as I follow you and your friends down the pavement and past the buildings within the campus. I watch and cringe as you seem to crumple under the weight of your friends’ arm and quickly realise that you aren’t drunk. Your friends are. Stupidly drunk.

I feel my heart relax and my stomach unclench. Of course, you wouldn’t be. You are good. And smart. Too smart to get drunk in a place like that. You know what are the risks and you are above such parties. Your friends though, I couldn’t say the same. Which brings me back to why you need better friends but that’s besides the point. I can see a few guys hanging at the other side of the street who leer at the group of you, clearly getting their dick hard at the thought of a group of vulnerable girls roaming these empty streets at night.

It’s dangerous. But that’s what I’m here for. They see me next and they look away.

I will do what I can to protect you, y/n. Even if that means protecting your good for nothing friends in the process.

All of a sudden, I see you trip and it’s like everything is in slow motion. You fall forward and I take long strides over, my legs stretching out and rushing to help you. Before your knees can hit the rough ground, I have you in my arms, encircled around your waist as I hold you up. I have your other friend, Haseul upright with my other hand tugging at the collar of her jacket. Your friend Tzuyu is not so fortunate and falls flat but she barely notices it, smiling tipsily to herself instead.

You glance up at me with those large eyes and I could get lost in them right there and then. But as quickly as we have our moment, you move away and I see a hint of suspicion in your eyes. We separate and the moment you extract yourself from my arms, I already want you back. Your touch feels addictive already. What have you done to me?

“Thanks.” You say curtly and I admire the fact that you have boundaries, not like Meg. You are hard to get and that’s what makes you so appealing. You are to be earned and respected.

You help Tzuyu to her feet and as you turn to leave with your friends, I call out, “is there any way I can help?”

You regard me with caution and open your mouth to reject me but then suddenly, the tenseness in your eyes relax.

“Do I know you?”

You remember me. Halle-fucking-lujah! I want to wrap you in my arms again but I play it cool.

“I… don’t…?”

Your eyes grow wide and the recognition seeps in.

“Wait! You’re from that hardware store right? Jaehyun?”

I pretend to be surprised when I’m actually fucking overjoyed.

“Yeah, wait… You’re that girl with the rope right?”

You laugh and it’s the most melodious thing I’ve ever heard in forever.

“Yup, that’s me. Kind of mortified that’s how you remember me but sure,” you say and your eyes twinkle but then you continue with a more subdued tone, “what are you doing here?”

I pat my chest good-naturedly.

“Friend of mine is a student here. I just came over to visit and he gave me his varsity jacket so I could try feeling like a college student for once. Never been to college so… yeah. I thought I’d like to try it out for fun.” I reply and shoot you an awkward smile, the kind you do when you try to get someone to favour you and think of you as ‘adorable’.

It works and you smile gently.

“That’s pretty cool, you’ve got a good friend.”

And you haven’t, I think but don’t say.

I gesture towards you and your friends.

“Need any help?”

You look at your drunken friends and back at me and I sense you thinking. Finally, you decide that you do need my help and chuckle, “We live right at that block over there and I think I might die halfway there. I’m not fit enough to hold 2 people.”

That’s so like you. So compassionate over friends who clearly didn’t give a shit that you didn’t want to go to some god forsaken party, so caring over friends who get drunk and don’t take responsibility, so helpful to take care of friends who literally do not give a fuck about you. You are not beautiful on the outside but on the inside too and as I loop Tzuyu’s arm over my neck and hold her, I wish I was holding you instead.

We amble over to the front of your block and we part, you thank me and we say our goodbyes and it’s all too soon. I want to be with you for longer, I want us to talk and I want you to invite me to your room but reality is often much less exciting and more boring.

“I’ll see you!” You call out, smiling as I walk away and I wave back, my heart soaring.

Today is a good day, I think and as I round the corner to the next street, I slip the keycard out of my pocket and feel the hard plastic under my finger.

Wasn’t difficult honestly. Your friends should really learn to keep their valuables in safe places, not the back pocket of their jeans.

[f1nalboys]

Not Doing This For You - Bday Fic

happy bday to @zhellas !!! He wanted this as a y/n fic but this is my first time ever writing for Nancy and I hope I did her justice!!! I hope you enjoy this!

WORD COUNT: 2079

WARNINGS: MASC!AMAB!Reader, nsfw, oral (male receiving), oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm denial, public sex, slight blood play? kind of??, nancy is mean heheh, reader is called a slut/whore/other demeaning names, nancy is into the humiliation aspect of it

Nancy fucking Downs. There was something about her that drove you fucking crazy. Maybe it was her smile - or, more often, her scowl - or maybe it was the way she carried herself, how she didn’t give a single shit about what anyone thought of her. Whatever it was, all you knew was that you had the hots for her.

Most nights you’d lay in bed with your cock in hand and just think of all the things you’d do to her. Or what she’d do to you. That was definitely a dirty little secret of yours; all you wanted was for Nancy Downs to suck you off and do whatever the fuck else she wanted. The only problem was that she doesn’t know who you are.

Well, she didn’t until the two of you got stuck in detention together for the next three weeks. What happened with you wasn’t your fault, honest to God, but you definitely knew Nancy had done something to get put in there. She sat down beside you in the classroom, throwing her bag down with a huff.

“Hey, you’re Nancy, right?”

“Why do you care?” Her voice was gravelly, deeper than most girls, and it matched her perfectly. She wore red lipstick, a darker, almost black, color on the edges of her lips. The very lips you had imagined wrapped around your cock dozens of times before. She raises an eyebrow at your silence and you swallow hard, stuttering out a response.

“Oh! No, no, I’m not trying to be, like, an asshole or anything! I’ve just seen you around and thought you looked cool.” She searches your face for any hint of sarcasm and, when she doesn’t find any, she smiles. It didn’t quite reach her eyes but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that she smiled because of you, because of something you said to her.

She turns towards you in her chair and rests her head in her hand. “Yeah, I’m Nancy. Who’re you?” The rest of the hour is spent talking. Not about anything in particular, mainly school related things, but by the end of the day she gave you her number. After you got home, you debated on whether or not you should call her. Would it be too soon?

Your ego told you it was, that you should play it cool and give it a day, but the eagerness of actually being able to talk to her and hear her voice before you fell asleep won and you dialed her number. She answered on the third ring. “Hello? Who the fuck is it?”

“Uh, it’s Y/N, from detention? You gave me your number and I figured, you know, that I should call.”

“You actually called the day I gave it to you?” She asked, her voice teasing. You weren’t sure if she was actually making fun of you, though. The two of you talked for a few minutes before she hung up without giving you a second to say goodbye. When you touched yourself that night you, as usual, thought of her.

After seven detentions and four phone conversations, you finally asked her out. “Hey, Nancy, I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat with me after this? If you weren’t busy of course.” She accepted without a fight. You both took the bus to this little chain diner and ate, talking for an hour, and when it started to get dark she asked if you wanted to go somewhere with her.

“Don’t look so freaked. I’m not gonna kill you,” She grinned when she said it, grabbing ahold of your hand and pulling you down the road. Her smile was sharp, her teeth bared, and a very small part of you thought she was lying. She took you to a park out of town, one she said she went to with her friends. That made your heart flutter a bit; you were one of those friends, it seemed.

She sat you down at one of the park benches and sat down next to you, placing her hand on your knee. “Y/N, I know you like me.” You cough, caught off guard. She was staring at you with a glint in her eye. “Don’t lie to me either; I hate liars.”

“Y-yeah, I do. How… how does that make you feel?”

She laughs at you, this one tinged with cruelty, as her hand slid up your thigh. “Makes me feel like you’re a pathetic cunt-hungry whore.” Nancy was foul-mouthed but she had never said something like that to you before. Her hand is still moving and she palms you roughly and your legs open involuntarily. “See? You’re such a whore.”

Her words were laced with venom and yet you couldn’t help but love it. She could surely feel the way you were growing hard under her palm and the realization of what was happening hit you like a ton of bricks. “You… are you sure? We don’t have to…”

“Shut. Up.” Your mouth shuts and you watch as she unbuttons your pants. Her mouth was in a thin line, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “You touch yourself to me, don’t you? Yeah, I fucking thought so. How many times have you cum thinking about me?”

You swallow hard. You aren’t sure if you were supposed to answer but then she's slipping her hand down your pants and palming you through the thin fabric of your underwear. “Shit! Yes, I did. I do. Fuck, I don’t know how many times.” You keep looking between her hand on you and her eyes that were burning into your own, unable to focus on just one of them at a time.

This was something you had thought about before but never in your fucking life did you actually think it would happen. You’re gasping, her name slipping from your lips, and she’s eating it up. “Such a filthy slut. That’s what you are, you know that, right? God, you’re pathetic, really. You’re lucky I’m doing this, lucky that I even give you the time of day.

With that she's standing up, yanking down your pants which you help her out with by lifting your butt up off of the bench. She pulls your underwear down just enough to pull your cock out and she’s on it, licking it from the base of your balls to your tip. Her tongue was long, almost fucking unnaturally long, and it felt amazing.

She takes you in her mouth, her tongue flattening as she bobs her head. Your hands are on the back of the bench, your knuckles white with how tight you were gripping the wood. She looked ethereal, and that fucking mouth of hers. “God, you’re perfect.”

Looking at you through her eyelashes she narrows her eyes, coming off of you with a pop. Her lipstick was smudged, spit gathered at the corners of her mouth. She kisses you hard, her manicured hand gripping your chin with a bruising grip. Her tongue slips in your mouth and she immediately takes control, her kisses sloppy and hard. When she pulls off of you she bites down on your bottom lip hard, breaking the skin, and she comes back with blood covering her teeth.

“Mmm,” You watch in awe as she swipes her tongue over her teeth, closing her eyes as she savors the taste. When her eyes open they’re darker, stormy, and she leans over to lick across your lip, collecting another drop of blood from the cut. “Don’t think I’m doing this for you. No, I’m using you. I’m treating you like the whore you are.”

She sits down next to you and lifts her skirt up slightly, revealing the black lacy thong she was wearing. “Hurry the fuck up.” You get off the bench in a second and get on your knees, not even bothering to tuck yourself back into your underwear. What she wanted you to do was obvious enough and you hook your finger around the thong and pull it to the side, your mouth attaching to her cunt instantaneously.

She hums as you get to work, your tongue swirling around her clit. You could nearly cum at the taste of her; she was fucking intoxicating. Your tongue prods at her hole, your nose running across her clit and she bucks up into you, her hand grabbing the back of your neck and forcing your face further into her.

“Fuck! Keep doing that,” She moans and your tongue starts moving in and out of her cunt, your head bobbing to help push yourself further into her. You were finding it harder and harder to breathe but you didn’t care, you would rather suffocate than stop eating her out. She was soaked, her juices covering the entire lower half of your face.

She cums without warning, her hips moving quick and all you can do is sit there, holding your head still, as she fucks herself onto your tongue. Collapsing back onto the bench, she watches in amusement as you gasp, sucking in the oxygen you had forgone that entire time. “You taste so fucking sweet,” She rolls her eyes at your words, grabbing your collar and kissing you roughly.

“I know. Now get up here and sit down so I can fuck you.” Your knees feel weak when you stand, sliding onto the bench beside her. She straddles you, her chest pressed against yours, and you hiss as her manicured hand grabs ahold of your cock, lining it up at her entrance. She sinks down onto you slowly, her forehead pressed against yours.

Your hands wrap about her waist and you try to move her, try to set the pace, and her nails dig into the flesh of your arm, thin crescent shaped lines of blood coming up underneath them. “Don’t fucking do that. I’m fucking you, remember?”

“Sorry,” Is all you can get out before she starts rocking her hips, throwing her head back in ecstasy. You felt great too, small moans and gasps of her name slipping from your lips. This spurs her on and she lifts her hips, pulling off of you almost completely, before slamming herself down onto you. She does it four times in quick succession before slowing down slightly.

She starts rocking her hips each time she comes down onto you and the sound of her arousal is loud, almost obscene. Your thighs are wet, her wetness dripping down off of her onto you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” You grunt and she lets out a breathy laugh, followed by a long moan. Unable to help yourself, you thrust up slightly and she gasps.

“Fuck! Do that again, it felt good,” You grin and thrust up again, hitting the bundle of nerves inside her, her walls clenching around you. Her arms wrap around your neck, holding you there and she pulls you in for a kiss, slipping her tongue in your mouth. Neither of you break your pace as her tongue swirls around your own.

You can feel her getting close, her pace sputtering and curses spilling from her mouth. Another thrust and she’s cumming, slamming down onto you and twitching. It’s intoxicating the way she falls apart, her ‘bad’ persona cracking as she whimpers your name. You were close yourself and you have to bite your tongue, hard enough to draw blood, to stop from begging her to move.

She smiles at you when her breathing evens out, a glint in her eye, and she lifts herself off of you. You’re coated in her cum, your thighs and part of your jeans soaked. Your eyebrows furrow together and you stare at her, confused. She shimmies her underwear off and tosses it at you. “This was fun.”

“Wait, I didn’t…”

“Cum? Yeah, I know. I was fucking you, remember, whore?” The sound of an approaching car spurs you into action and you tuck yourself back into your jeans, your face burning at the sight of yourself. You were painfully hard, unfairly hard, and you loved it. Loved that she would use you the way she did without bothering to get you off as well. Something about it was incredibly fucking hot. “Keep those. Maybe you can give them back to me in detention.”

She flashes you a wicked grin and walks off, the bus approaching. All you can do is swallow the lump in your throat and follow her.

[teenyweenynightghost]

Dream Date

Thomas x fem reader

Thomas had been crushing on Y/n for god knows how long

They sat up all night and talked online about every little thing in the world; passions, dreams, futures, meanings…

After a bit of wine and endless encouragement from the band, he finally decided to ask her out.

“Um, y/n, I had a question…” his voice trembled slightly, watching her wash some dishes before patting her hands dry and turning to face him

“Of course, amore. What is it?”

“I was wondering If you wanted to go on a date with me tonight?” He asked, looking at her with fear and anticipation.

He only grew more worried as the girl remained silent, shock written all over her face.

“Are you kidding? I would love to!” She chuckled, approaching Thomas and hugging him tightly

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and basked in the sensation of being so close to her. Y/n’s soft, luscious hair slightly tickled his cheek and filled his nose with the pleasant scent of flowers and spring

Thomas was standing in front of the mirror, fumbling nervously with his tie. He had picked a light gray suit with a pink shirt.

“Thomas!! Aren’t you gonna come pick up your princess?” Damiano teased from downstairs, earning a frustrated groan from the blond.

He came up in a second and watched Thomas try and knot his tie, laughing to himself before helping him out.

“Are you nervous?”

“Guess, stronzo.”

Damiano snorted before patting him on the back and pushing him downstairs

“You are incredibly handsome Thomas, she’ll be more than enamored”

“Shut up.”

He got in the car and drove all the way to Y/n’s house, where he noticed she was already waiting on the porch.

She was gorgeous, to say the least. Her curly hair was pulled back with a few pins, light peach eyeshadow on her eye lids and a soft pink lipstick.

He hadn’t realizes she was in front if him, until Y/n spoke.

“Where are we going?”

“Oh um, beautiful- I mean, you, you are beautiful.”

They both blushed, Thomas more out of embarrassment, and he opened the door for her to get in the car.

“What made you decide to finally ask me on a date?” Her soft, honey-like voice broke the silence.

“I am always excited when I’m with you, or when I talk to you. It’s something I don’t really feel with other people.”

“I honestly thought you’d say that you would willingly wake up for me.”

They both started laughing, as they passed the illuminated streets of Rome.

“That’s a given.”

Eventually, the car slowed to a stop, and they both got out.

“Where are we?”

“Remember that place I told you about a few nights ago? I used to come to this meadow every day when I was younger. It was like a safe haven for me.” His voice faded out, looking around and taking in the all-too familiar plants and trees he knew so well.

“Why did you bring me here, then?”

“I wanted you to see it. Maybe it could become our haven.”

Y/n sighed, and picked up a flower from the ground, smelling it.

Meanwhile, the boy opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a blanket and a basket, laying them both down and taking a seat.

The soft glow of the moon softly illuminated the patch of grass they were sitting on, creating a surreal and whimsical feeling.

“To be fair, If you wouldn’t have asked me out one of these days, I would have.” Y/n snorted, opening the basket and gasping.

“CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRIES??” Y/n’s eyes were comically wide, as she looked between the treats and Thomas

“Well, you know, I did plan for this date to be the cheesiest thing possible.”

“They’re over used for a reason. They rock!”

“We rock.” He added smoothly, feeling himself relax more and more.

“We sure do.”

Taking out another plate out of the basket, Thomas grinned as he remembered one of his favorite childhood movies.

A big smile appeared on Y/n’s face as she saw the giant portion of pasta in front of her, and hurried to find some forks in the basket.

“I suppose we’re eating out of the same plate, correct?”

Thomas nodded and didn’t hesitate to start devouring the food.

They mainly listened to the soft tuned of the car radio while eating in silence, the occasional chirp of a bird catching their attention, until Y/n started giggling.

Thomas looked down, and saw that they both have the same noodle in their mouth, one end in her mouth, on in his.

Thomas smiled sheepishly, as he continued advancing towards Y/n, her actions replicating his.

They were mere centimeters away from each other, Y/n’s hot breath sending shivers through Thomas, her eyes lit up, as If a fire glowed with in them.

She made the final step and closed the distance between them, kissing Thomas tenderly, for so long that they both forgot what breathing felt like.

Eventually pulling apart, they kept staring into each other’s eyes, trying to calm down, despite their hearts being aflame with desire and affection.

“We should film a live-action version of Lady and the Tramp.”

Thomas chuckled and shifted so that he was closer to her, nuzzling his head into the crook of Y/n’s neck.

She picked up the box of strawberries and started shoving them down her throat, eating with a speed that got Thomas worried.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down! I want some too!”

“You can’t bring me strawberries covered in chocolate and expect me not to eat them!!”

He snorted and leaned over to the basket, pulling out a book.

“What’s that?”

“Poems”

Y/n gasped and lowered herself so that she would align herself with his face.

“Wow! You’re gonna bring me food, read me poetry and show me your hiding spot? I feel like I’m in a romantic movie.” She joked, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Well, I am trying to romance you.”

“There are literally so many words for it and you choose romance me?”

“I knew you’d say that.” He scoffed, faking a pout and opening the book. He flipped through a few pages until he ended up at a heavily marked one, a coffee stain on the corner.

“I’m guessing this is your favorite?”

“For one specific reason. Can you guess it?”

Y/n hummed, thinking for a few moments before answering him.

“Is it about sleep?”

“Oh come on! No. It reminded me of you.” He grinned, fluttering the book under her nose.

“Oh god, it’s gonna be a prayer to the devil, won’t it?”

The blond squinted his eyes, seemingly freezing, before starting to flip hurriedly through the pages once more.

“Shit, you’re right.”

“THOMAS!” Y/n elbowed him, scoffing, bursting into laughter along with him.

“Fine, fine, alright. Here it is;

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Y/n’s eyes were brimmed with tears, slightly smudging her eye makeup, as she took a deep breath, taking in all that Thomas recited

“What’s it called?”

“When you are old, by William Butler Yeats.”

Y/n let out a silent oh, and looked closer at the sketches around the writing.

There was a small sketch of her, relaxing on the balcony under the stars, and Thomas, looking up at her as if she were his moon.

Her heart was filled with affection for the boy who held it in his hands, who unfortunately didn’t realize how much he meant to her.

“Let’s dance.” She beckoned him, walking towards the car and turning up the volume. A terrible love song erupted from the speakers, making Thomas cringe at the harmonies and lyrics, but he took Y/n’s hand regardless and pulled her closer.

They swung from side to side, looking deeply into each other’s eyes and memorizing every single aspect of the night

“This night is amazing, but this song really fucking sucks.” Thomas eventually spoke, not being able to hold in his commentary any longer.

“Well, not everyone can make music as well as you.”

“Oh you little flirt.” Thomas blushed, brushing a strand of hair out of Y/n’s face and spinning her around, over and over again.

She was giggling as she turned, her flowery dress flowing around, making her look like even more of an angle in Thomas’s eyes.

“I wanna spin you too!”

“I’m taller. You can’t!”

“Bet?”

Y/n pushed Thomas around, but he got stuck while he was with his back to her.

“Ow, Y/n, my arm can’t bend like that!”

He muttered a few curses, instinctively stapling backwards, thus making Y/n fall along with him.

A loud thud was all that he heard before an uncontrollable mess of giggles started wiggling under him.

“YOU’RE CRUSHING ME!”

“No, I’m crushing on you.” He spoke calmly, not getting off of her small body.

“Stronzo!!”

They were both laughing as Thomas got up, pulling Y/n with him, and pressing a passionate kiss to her lips.

They both sat back down on the blanket and nuzzled into each other’s embrace, their breath matching up.

“I never want this night to end.” Y/n whispered against his neck, squeezing his hand.

“It’s the only way it will remain special.”

She smiled contently, before looking up at the stars and letting the faint crickets and rustles of the forrest drive them to sleep.

A/n: I had plenty of inspiration for this🥴 @cantaraiilmionome 😉 for you, amore

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @victoriadeangeliswifey @bidet-and-legolas @makapaka11 @electra-phoebe

[thrill-seeker-vn]

(two characters staring at each other's lips) for n🤲 my beloved🤲🙏🤲

Hello Anon!! Such a cute prompt!!

Under the cut! (Word count: 1134 words)

“Stay still, N, you're making this harder for me!” You can’t keep the exasperation out of your voice.

You’ve been trying (or, well, failing) at putting makeup on them. This little sleepover was supposed to relieve your stress, not make you feel like you were in a fashion show.

N had not done your makeup yet, but you knew how good they were already. You didn't want to look bad.

You didn't want to make them look bad, either, but they probably didn't get the memo because they were fidgeting too much!

They swiveled in their chair a little while you put the blush on, they played with their hands, they chewed the inside of their cheek-- they were just making it harder for you, and you had a sneaking suspicion they were doing it on purpose from the shit-eating grin they were wearing.

"N. Stop. Moving." You don't know how many times you've complained about it already, but you really are losing your patients.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I just can't help it," Oh, but they can, and they're choosing not to, and it's their smile that gives it away again.

The fact that they're doing it intentionally-- it's driving you more crazy than how fast your heart was beating from that little pet name. Even when they were annoying you, you found them attractive. And that-- that was more than a little frustrating.

You were laying the blush on too thick. They looked like a clown, but right now, you felt like the circus.

Fine. You wouldn't get anywhere with this. You put the blush stick down.

N had insisted on sitting in the chair in front of the vanity table, giving you the most awkward angle, since they decided they wanted to stare into the mirror the entire time. What they were trying to accomplish, you had no idea, but you knew you were playing right into their hands.

In your frustration, you picked up the closest thing to you on the table. Turning it over in your hands, you felt the familiar weight of lipstick.

It would be impossible to put it on from this angle. No matter how much you turned, it would smudge, and you couldn't take it anymore!

You didn't even realy register it happening, but now you've turned their seat so they're facing you, and not the mirror, you're leaning over onto the table, and your hand is holding their chin in place, and you're too close, you're way too close, what are you doing?

N doesn't say anything-- they're frozen in place, in that little 'ah, shit' look they have when they've put themselves in trouble. It's adorable, and you've forgotten why you were irritated in the first place.

"I-- I was trying to distract you," They say it meekly, and you notice how little they're moving. They don't look scared, however-- just nervous.

But the sentence itself is throwing you off. "Distract me? What?"

'I was annoying you because-- when you're annoyed-- you lose focus. And you've been in your head a lot lately." They moved their hand off the chair, over onto your hand, holding the lipstick. "I don't really care if you like me less. But if you're annoyed, at least you're not sad, and that's all I need."

You wanted to laugh. Stupid, stupid N. Sometimes they talked like they had no idea of the consequences... like they didn't know what kind of effect they would have on you.

"I'll be distracted enough if you're there. You don't need to annoy me." And it was true, but you would give anything to just have them there, annoying you.

They let out a non commital noise, but they didn't seem to be paying full attention. Indeed, when you looked at them, they weren't looking into your eyes, but lower.

You followed the trail of their gaze, and felt your lips go dry. You swiped your tongue quickly across them, and saw how N's eyes followed that movement.

Stupid, stupid N. They never thought of the consequences before they did something, did they?

Well, maybe that's why you got along so well with them.

You leaned away from them, removing your hands, and you noticed the brief flicker in their eyes. It could be disappointment, if you had to guess, but it was gone too fast.

Their eyes changed completely, however, when you take the lid off the lipstick, and bring it slowly across your lips. You make sure to put it on evenly, before leaning in again.

"Say, N," The words are slow, deliberate. "Does this shade look any good?"

They draw closer, not one to back off. "Wonderful, really."

Their voice makes you feel strange. Or maybe it's just them-- even if a small thing was changed, if it was N, you think you would still feel this way.

This all consuming feeling. The promise of a challenge. You know you shouldn't rise to these silly words, but you couldn't help it, and you think they knew it.

Of course they knew it.

"Is that so?" Your words come out in a drawled manner, and you can see how it makes them feel. You know you're enticing them as much as they're enticing you. "I think it would look good on you."

Your hand comes up to their chin again, but you tilt it up this time. Your eyes are glued on their lips-- they don't waver.

You're close enough now that your breath fans over their lips, and close enough that you can see how they shiver at the contact.

Should you? Should you cross that line?

Fuck it.

You press your lips onto theirs, slowly and deliberately. You don't give them time to dwell on it, but you made sure you thoroughly spread the colour across their lips.

When you pull back, you know your lipstick is smudged. You can only hope it's as good a look as the one you've given them.

"I was right. This color is perfect for you," Their cheeks are dark with that comment.

Another thought pops into your head. What was it they said earlier? They were trying to distract you?

You could think of another distraction, one that was more fun than a little teasing.

"I missed a spot," You whisper, taking the lipstick to their bottom lip again. As you touched it up, you revelled in the way they tensed at your touch.

Deliberately, however, you dragged the lipstick off the corner of their lip, down their jaw, down to their neck.

"Whoops. How silly of me," You could feel how devillish your smile was, but you knew there was no turning back now. "I'll just have to clean that up."

A sprout of a new, funny feeling-- a promise being delivered on.

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

As always, let me know what you think!

_____________________________________________________

Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Out of sight, out of mind (interlude)

I

They disappear one night the same way they appeared.

Without a word.

It feels like waking up after a long dream. The way the sunrays enter your little kitchen, splashing your space in golden light looks almost ethereal, no longer their figures staining your white walls, standing out of place in the middle of your living room.

It feels a lot like the mornings after some heavy rainstorm.

It’s over. You think, breathing heavy and tired.

The apartment is quiet and cold, foreign to you. It reminds you a little they way you feel in hospitals. Places without personality, places without any personal touch. Even when everything is in place; the blankets are neatly folded in the closet and your toothbrush is the only one in the bathroom (Toga surely took her time tiding everything up) but you cannot feel at ease in it.

Maybe you are no longer the same person that use to live alone in this place, because it doesn’t feel like you belong inside the four walls that began to close too tight around you now, and even when you know you should run to the next police station and ask for help and protection because you’ve been hostage in your own home for weeks, you can’t get yourself to do it. It feels like a betrayal, somehow. Even when they held you captive, even when they’ve threat you and berated you. Even when there is no guarantee they would not be back to end the job after what you did to Dabi, after what happen with Shigaraki.

He looked like he wanted to hurt you last time.

Sorrow soft and silent start to rise, your heart breaking slowly with realization, smothering you, drowning you gently as you stand alone in the middle of your home, because they will never be back.

He will never be back.

It’s fine…I’m…safe. I’m safe.

You feel the jarring stab of grief, your heart cracking open under the pressure and the loneliness you’ve been trying to keep under control all this time, so you let out a shaking sob, finally admitting to yourself the ugly truth.

This is more than a little crush.

More like falling in love.

And your sweetheart has red eyes like jewels and a starved need for ruin.

So, you curl in a corner of your couch, hugging a pillow that smells way too much like soap and leather, finally allowing yourself to cry because this is painful, the kind of infatuation that can get you killed, that can destroy your life and ruin you. Him never coming back is a gift made of grief and poison, but you’ll take it because you know this is what you get in exchange of an attachment like this for a man who does nothing but harbor resentment inside the dark pit that is his chest.

You cry your eyes out, you cry desperate and lonely, holding tight to the pillow that still smells like him, no longer trying to suppress the nasty wound his gaze carved into your heart the moment his eyes met yours.

You cry because you think he hates you, because he didn’t just decide to go. Shigaraki choose to run away from this just to spite you and your infatuation because he wanted to stab you back. Because that’s the kind of man he is, that’s the kind of man that you allowed to hold grip onto your heart.

So, you stay curled in the corner of your little couch, sobbing and weeping over the painful mess you’ve made, wishing for the kiss you didn’t get the chance to steal and swearing that if you ever see him again, you’ll squeeze that devious grin out of his sharp face with your bare hands because if he wanted to hurt you by leaving without a word, then he should be fucking proud.

_____________________

II

He wasn’t joking when he asked her if she could handle rough.

“Oh my god” she sobs, inked tears staining her cheeks.

She looks like a mess, but he prefers it that way. He favors that she’s different, a complete opposite with her heavy makeup and revealing clothes, her smudged lipstick painting her chin and her breasts bouncing heavy, scaping her torn little dress. A perfect depiction of ruined and lewd. 

She gags when he squeezes her neck hard, his index fingers curled as he yanks her body against the brick wall, too angry to care for his companion. No. He just wants to thrust into her as fast and rough as he can so he can get off the soon.

“Oh my-” she pants trying to hold herself against the wall, but he pulls her neck to him, pressing her back to his chest and then he yanks forward and bites her hard in the shoulder, his teeth leaving a purple mark on her skin.

“Shut up.” He grunts maddened when she sobs and squirms against his body, her smell entering his nostrils, making him gag instantly because he cannot stand the cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes, sweat and sex.

He cannot stand the smell of her hair, nor the shape of her body, or the height difference.

He cannot stand her lewd screaming.

So, he covers her mouth with his hand and shut his eyes tightly closed before resuming his brutal animalistic pacing, trying not to think in the salty flavor of her skin in his mouth. He just needs his release; it’s been a while since he gave himself to this kind of pleasure and for all things he’s ever done, he never fucked this angry before.

Tomura thinks he’s not particularly sexual on a daily basis. He doesn’t go walking around thinking about the next time he gets laid, not when he’s never been that interested in girls anyway, because he just…doesn’t like things nor people. So, his approach on sex is more like a task to be filled if anything else (like eating), rarely relying on another body since he doesn’t want to be touched at all. Now, of course he’s done it now and then, sometimes paying for it, sometimes a nightstand after some vodka in a seedy bar, but always quick to dispatch the person involved.

For Tomura, sex is about him wanting something and obtaining it the easiest way possible to just keep on with his life.

Or at least that’s how it was, but some reason he’s been feeling incredibly starved for it lately, and after being in a heck of a terrible mood and some heated lash out at his crew out of nowhere, he decided to pick his anger and put it somewhere else before killing one of his comrades.

Now, the woman is drooling all over his hand with all the choking, making him feel nauseous so he lets go of her and just digs his fingers on her hip keeping his index up, his long nails clawing at her skin, making her whine, squeezing him tight in reflex.

She tries to catch his wrist to move one of his hands to her breast, but he yanks away to pull her hair, growling a curse against her ear, swallowing hard.

This feels so wrong.

It’s not the right cup size.

It’s not the right smell.

It’s not the right height.

It’s not the right woman.

The mechanic friction is finally working its wonders because Tomura feels his low abdomen tighten before finally getting off.

No, he doesn’t see stars, nor grunts in feverish pleasure. He doesn’t taste her neck nor smiles when he cums. As soon as he releases, he shoves the woman as far away from him, removing the condom with disgust and decaying it (the thought of feeling her bare wet cunt against his naked skin revolving his guts).

He adjusts his clothes before throwing the woman some cash and just walks away, concluding that this was the most unsatisfying fuck in world’s history.

Tomura looks at his hands, feeling the sticky sensation of her saliva and her sweat, troubled because his face it’s super itchy but he feels so disgustingly dirty, that he doesn’t even need to smell them to know that her musky tacky perfume now lingers on his palms.

Maybe if I rub my hands, I can decay it away. He thinks, trying his hypothesis to no avail. ‘kay, that was pointless.

He manages to rub the fabric of his sleeve against his brow until the skin begins to show red dots of blood as he thinks seriously that he could kill for a hot shower, even when he’s not the cleanest guy around (he showers when he can. If he can’t do it, then he just doesn’t think about it), but he can’t stand the way the prostitute’s scent remains on him like a sin, and the thought is so ridiculous, because he’s done plenty of horrible disturbing shit in his life to now feel all guilty and nasty for a “less-than-mediocre” fuck.

So, he walks away, utterly unsatisfied. His anger dragging behind him, leaving a bloodied mess of chaos and longing for something far brighter than a rough fuck behind some lost alley, because he wants more than that. He wants the name, the body and the holy spirit that inhabits the girl with dangerous gaze and healer hands. He wants her violence, her anger and wild bravado, all for him to feaster and be consumed by it.

A violent delight that he can’t afford, not when he’s busy surviving until he finds the doctor or his master’s weapon, so he repeats himself that his infatuation, this sickness will disappear eventually, he just needs to get his priorities straight and focus.

He’ll do it, time will get everything in place again.

Cold creeps into him, the city lights filling the streets between car noises and people returning their homes. All of them busy minding their own lives, completely unaware of the hooded serial killer walking by, quietly sneaking into the fire escape of some old building.  

_____________________

III

Internal medicine is one of those courses that drains every bit of life out of you. Arguably the hardest in a career full of hards, you now live under the constant threat of failure because this shit is a monster, and you know the statistics too well to not being aware that this course has the highest rate of reps in all the damn faculty.

So, you enter your uni mode; sugar-rush based diet and coffee like the world is ending to keep your brain functioning like is a nuclear reactor, sleeping four hours at nights and barely dreaming. Of course, it’s not just that class, is that you have three more besides that one, all of them of high difficulty for you to rejoice in your misery, so yeah. You live like a zombie.

I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich… You repeat to yourself every morning after showering, watching your body in front of the mirror, admiring the sharp angles and purple eyebags that already began to claim your face.

Oh, and the hair loss due to stress is just the cherry on top of the cake, really.

Yes, your brain is at the brim of collapse right now, but classes start again, and your friends are there to suffer with you and it makes you feel accompanied and secure. Is just another semester of tears, panic, pizza and everything that implies to be a twenty something student, so you are thankful nonetheless, because you don’t have the time to think about the other thing…

You don’t think about it.

You don’t really think about it.

You don’t even think about it.

And you don’t say the name either, you refuse because you’ll do anything to forget about him, anything to erase the memory of his dark figure like a shadow against your white kitchen, too clever and insolent for your own good.

But it’s okay, you don’t think of him, or his slender fingers taking the bishop to strike down your king, and the way his dry lips curve upward before some smartass remark. You don’t think of his lean body towering over you, touching yours in so many places but none at the same time.

No, you don’t think of him while awake, but sometimes he visits your dreams to terrify you with his cadaveric hands and his face hidden by his hair. Ready to strike you down, a hand extended in motion to decay you into oblivion.

Sometimes he hovers over you, kissing your neck while ravaging you, incredibly close and raw and intimate, his mouth snarling dirty words you’ll never dare to say out loud. Dreams where his warm chest press against your naked body and your lips sings lewd lullabies just for him, welcome him to feaster on your skin with your face nuzzling against his scarred cheek, covering your face with his silver hair.

Sometimes he just sits in your kitchen as the sunlight reflects over his milky locks. His hand holding his cheek over the table in serene expression, calling your name to play again as the black king spins between his delicate fingers.

___________________

IV

Tomura has a meeting with this new allied Twice found, like three days from now.

He’s not particularly excited about it, surely, it’s just another capo wannabe with grandeur delusions, but it could be worth it. Maybe he could get some money out of it since the league is completely broken after his sensei’s incarceration. They are in desperate need of a hideout, now more than ever since Kurogiri vanished and he’s sure the heroes must have captured him. (Thinking about this is pointless anyway because he doesn’t have the means to get him back)

Minding his own business, he walks with his hoodie on, passing between civilians like he’s one of them, completely invisible when he sees her.

It catches him by surprise. His heart stopping dead on its tracks, wide eyes and tight lips, uncertainty filling him all of the sudden, but he’s accustomed to make hiding spots out of nowhere, so he gets behind some store sign where he can watch her safely.

She stands outside a coffee shop, animatedly talking with some guy who wears the same clinic uniform that she has on. A school mate maybe? She’s an intern in a hospital so, they are probably on shift. Another doctor like her.

She looks tired and paler, but beautiful, nonetheless. The way her lips move give away she’s talking about something clinic, because her face has that firm expression she always does when she’s being professional.

She already looks like a doctor and God knows he’d gladly be sick every day of his life if she’s the one to treat him.

His feelings betray him. He was sure after a month she would be completely out of his system by now, this stupid illness already cured, but shit just doesn’t go away.  It pisses him off to no end because she’s not worth the aggravation. C’mon, she’s just another boring normal civilian, she doesn’t do anything important or interesting. She’s not remarkable in any way that serves him, because not even her quirk is truly useful. Not when it threatens to kill her every time she uses it.

And looking her objectively, she’s not even that pretty, but somehow, he’s torn between his desire to make her see him and get as far away from her he can.

Searing jealousy pierces him, hate raw and jarring dripping from between his ribs when the man leans over and whisper something that makes her laugh and for a moment, he seriously thinks he’s going to kill him right there, no quirk needed because he would just love to gut him out in plain view for her to see what he thinks of her stupid friend.

He hates the man, but he hates her more because she dares to laugh, she dares to enjoy life and people meanwhile he crawls hungry and cold between ruined places.

Like sensing his glare, she suddenly turns her head with her eyes directed to the spot where he hides, her expression changing from joyful to confused in seconds, making him laugh because even when he’s sure she cannot see him, she knows he’s there and it feels like she’s tied to him somehow.

Her face gives away disappoint when she fails to catch him and the thought of her grieving after he left delights him, but he’s sworn to let her behind, so he rejoices for a moment in this little victory of his pettiness over her charms, before turning away from her, fully believing that this is the last time he thinks of her.

Chapter 13

__________________________________________

Hey lovely readers! since English is not my native language and writing Shigaraki is kinda hard because he changes and grows, and because he usually says many things about himself, but then he goes and do completely different things (like when he says he hates everything, but CLEARLY he’s fond of twice and stuff like that) so much in manga, it would be lovely to know what you think of this! I think it’s the only way to be better at something really, So, any questions, comments and concerns, please feel free to comment!

[masonscig]

drag

wayhaven summer fic #2

pairing | nate x ramona

word count | 1.1k

warnings | none

author’s note | finally get to write the pairing that’s been swimming around in my brain for a month or so!! hope you enjoy! as usual, you can read this fic on ao3 – comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!

•─────────────────•

“Hold still, goober,” she cackled as he leaned in to nuzzle her face. “Stop! Stop, I just finished up your lipstick – no, you can’t –”

It was too late. Nate had already pressed one, two, three kisses to her cheek, jaw, and chin.

“Oops.”

“Don’t act like you feel any remorse, Agent,” Ramona rolled her eyes before planting her feet to stand up from where she straddled Nate’s lap. “Shut your mouth and let me reline your lips again since ya smudged it.”

“I get the ‘Agent’ treatment? Ooh, I’ll probably have to make it up to you somehow. I wonder how I’ll do that –” He laughed, breathy and full, gripping her waist tighter to pull her back down.

“You can’t smooch your way out of this one so don’t even try it,” she said, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “And you can’t move if you want me to finish anytime soon.”

“Only if you’re still planning on fulfilling your promise,” Nate raised a coated brow (covered in glue and powder) and grinned.

Ramona let out a howl, leaning forward until she rested against him, arms shaking in laughter. “Oh my god let me wipe your teeth, love. This is embarrassing.”

Nate chuckled, running his tongue over his teeth. “This is what I get for trying to be sweet.”

“You can save the smooth shit for later, honey. Let me wipe your teeth off,” she murmured, brows furrowed in concentration as she scrubbed the tissue across his teeth, wiping the pink smudges away from his pearly whites.

She dropped the tissue and clasped his cheeks between her palms, pushing just enough so that his plump lips were pursed. “I’m gonna reline your lips. Don’t try any funny business or no museum for us.”

He nodded once, and she pressed a quick kiss to his bottom lip before uncapping the lip liner. She traced the edges of his lips, so concentrated that she wasn’t aware of the way he was looking at her.

“Nice. Lemme fill it in and then we’re good to go,” she said confidently, before swiping the liquid lipstick across his lip.

“That feels weird… and tastes horrible,” Nate grimaced, rubbing his lips together to spread it.

“Don’t eat it,” she giggled, pushing off of him to stand up. “We’re gonna give you a little bob with bangs because I don’t have enough time to install one for you –”

He leaned back in his seat, nodding along despite having no clue what she was talking about. “Whatever you think is best.”

“You’ll be pretty regardless, Nate.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. “And you call me the charmer.”

She laughed, plucking a short black wig from her closet. “Oh, this is the one. For sure.”

Ramona settled into his lap again, squeezing her thighs around his to hold herself in place. She looked completely at home, this kind of contact absolutely one-hundred percent platonic in nature.

He was resisting the urge to reach out and wrap his arm around her waist again, to feel the bare skin of her midsection underneath his palms.

He was still figuring Ramona out, so he didn’t want to screw up – not once.

She bobby pinned his flyaways back before tugging the wig on his head, the bangs kissing the tips of his false lashes. “Damn, you can’t even see the brows I worked so hard on.”

“I think the rouge is enough,” he smiled, gesturing to his cheeks and lips.

“Rouge? You really are ancient,” she mused, leaning over to grab the hairbrush from her vanity.

“What’s wrong with rouge?” He quirked a brow.

“That’s a grandpa word, baby. If you call lipstick and blush ‘rouge’, it’s a dead giveaway that you’re a vampire,” she brushed through his bob, curling the brush inwards to keep the shape. “Gotta update your… verbiage.”

“I see our Scrabble games have benefitted us both,” he teased, garnering a laugh from her.

“The day you let me use internet slang in Scrabble is the day I’m beating your ass, old man,” she teased, sliding off of his lap and onto the floor to grab the heeled boots she’d bought specifically for this occasion. 

“The day I let you use internet slang in Scrabble is the day I let the computer decide your fate.”

“Ooh, cryptic and ominous. How versatile of you.”

“Lots of twenty dollar words there, Ramona.”

“You underestimate me, Nate,” she said his name with a sing-songy tone, one that set his heart ablaze. “Here, step into these.”

He slipped his sock covered foot into the boot, trying to remain calm when she ran her palm down his leg before zipping him up slowly.

“Could you imagine if you’d gotten your leg hair caught in the zipper? Horrifying,” she laughed, before zipping up the other black leather boot.

“How tall are these, exactly?”

“Six or seven inches. You’re even more of a skyscraper now.” She stood up, stretching to her full height before holding her hands out for him to grab.

He slipped his palms on top of hers, clasping them tightly as he pulled himself upwards into a standing position.

His legs wobbled in the shoes, his ankles nearly giving out. Surely he’d never worn something as daring as this?

“Hold my hands – the mirror’s right there.”

He clopped over to the mirror slowly but surely, practically stomping along the way.

“You’re doing great,” she grinned, squeezing his hand.

When she parked him in front of the mirror, his eyes widened.

“I’m… tall.”

“Tall and pretty.”

“This is… very different than what I’m used to.”

“Understatement of the century,” she murmured. “Okay, well, what do you like about this? C’mon, pros and cons and then we’ll get you out of the corset.”

“Hmm,” he said, pinching a feather from the boa between his fingers. “I like heels in theory, though they’d be difficult for me to get used to. I like the rouge – uh, the blush on my cheeks, and the shimmery makeup you put on my cheekbones.”

She nodded, slipping an arm around his waist. The contact alone was enough to egg him on.

“I love the way the corset looks, to be quite honest. I’m a fan of the eyelashes, too. They make my eyes look pretty.”

“Yes! There you go, owning how beautiful you are,” she said, kissing his bare arm.

“The lace of the skirt is lovely, too. And… I think I’d look good with black hair. I think you did a wonderful job, Ramona.”

“You do look awesome.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he smiled.

“That’s not the point, goober. We can both be pretty.”

He nodded in understanding.

“Alright, let’s choose your drag name and then I’ll unlace the corset so you can breathe.”

––––

[danddymaro]

Returning home | Leone Abbacchio x Reader

First Part  : Abba Finding out about a Secret Child

Reader insert // Your name // (Y/n)

Daughter’s name // (D/n)

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word Count :  1711

The reader makes the trip back home greeted by none other than the man she’d left behind.

(f/n) did her best to give her daughter the world, forcing herself to show the world a smile that truly didn't match up with her heart, all for her child's sake.

Because, while Leone had broken her own heart, it was no reason to let her own child go through the same wretched pain.

'You'll never know he rejected you.' (f/n) mused, watching her little girl as she opened up her eyes to her mother, the baby releasing little whimpers that begged for attention,

'You'll never know the feeling...' The woman then thought to herself, all while eyeing the beautiful golden orbs which were nearly identical to the mafioso's own gaze.

"It breaks my heart to see you...to know that you'll more than likely be the spitting image of him, and not just what I see now," She started,

" But his smile as well...

His way of seldom...

Even his way of chewing...

- All the stupid little habits he'd acquired throughout the years," (f/n) chuckled with tears in her eyes, "I can already tell that you'll somehow be just like him." she mused.

"In fact, I might just break down the first time you curse at someone!" She added, all while laughing, amused at her own stupidity.

" Oh, My love, When you take your first bite of Margherita Pizza... I just know you'll love it too! It'll be your favorite! " (f/n) then said while throwing her head back, "...And I'll just think of Leone," She murmured while still facing up at the ceiling, her eyes momentarily closed as she thought of the man.

" I'll think of the silly way he'd accidentally take a bite of his own hair, which is just so similar to yours my dear..." She said with the same touch of softness, saddened eyes gazing up at the roof,

" I'll cry my eyes out when you beg me to teach you how to make it...

because...

because...

he'd taught me how to make it just right!" she said while the tip of her index and thumb met, the universal signal of perfection being made,

"I couldn't eat anyone else's besides your papa's classic recipe... as silly as it sounds," She admitted, trailing her gaze back down to her sweetly gurgling angel.

" Oh (d/n)... I'll break down...

I just know it." She said with certainty, the pads of her fingers trailing down the side of (d/n)'s chubby cheek,

" I just hope you never see it, and if you do catch a glimpse of my tears...I hope you never remember them." She said with melancholy.

"I'd pray you never ask about him...but I know that eventually, you will." She said with a small grimacing grin,

" I know one day you'll ask why every other child gets to have both parents, all while your mother remains the same lonely fool I am now," (f/n) said while shaking her head,

"Please...don't hate me," (f/n) breathed, " Please just... whatever you do...

Don't hate me.

You can be similar to him in every way you want, just promise me that unlike him, you won't push me away..." She said with falling tears, holding her little girl close to her chest.

"Promise me that you will always love your mother, ok?"

(f/n) had felt anxious throughout the entire route back to the place she had once called home, her heart tightening more the closer she drew, because she knew that it was inevitable.

She was well aware that eventually, she'd be face to face with him.

She had expected it, but even then while she was before him, she froze.

When he was the first to greet her, she found herself unable to properly function, rigidly standing beneath the golden gaze of the man she'd left behind, the woman nearly struck stupid,

" Ah... Leone," (f/n) said with a follow-up of a short, single cough, her eyes drawing away from him as her hold on her sleeping child tightened.

" (F/n)," he said back, sounding flat as he tried to hold himself together.

He felt his heart race, his stomach being in twisted knots as he got a clear view of his sleeping child as well as the beauty before him.

To him, (f/n) hadn't changed much, except in the aspect that now, after all the time she'd been away, she now held an alluring air that left him intoxicated, his entire body which had once been touched by her, itching to step even closer.

He could then see her face visually fall as her bottom lip was tucked beneath her teeth at his rather curt response, and it made his breath hitch.

'I see,' She thought to herself, feeling her heart slowly cracking, the last bits of what had remained being stepped on by his own two feet.

' You don't seem to want to be here.' she mused, feeling it best to leave in order to spare him the effort of putting up an act.

However, she was stuck wanting to stay, but not wanting to stay all the same.

She was itching to hold him, but stopped by the aloofness he presented himself with, taking it all as an indication that he was unaffected by her, and much more the child in her arms.

'It's not as though I expected him to run to me...

To greet me with a kiss...

To have him ... I...' She stopped her train of thought, inwardly cursing at herself for even having had the slightest bit of hope.

She nodded with understanding, her eyes shut tight for just a moment before she seemed to stare at him dead on, when in reality they glanced above him, too weak to align with his,

"I'm here to speak with Bucciarrati, " She said firmly, her voice thickened slightly as the knot in her throat began to clump it.

'That's what I'm here for,' She told herself, trying to convince herself that it was the only thing she'd come back for.

"- He's not here," he stated, and as soon as the words left him she turned, quickly hiding her face of dejection and disappointment, " Then I'll come back later," She said quietly, choosing to retreat, not wanting to sit through the discomfort and pain.

' Shit.' Leone cursed, ' Shit, shit, shit, No,' he thought to himself, knowing he was screwing up his chance already.

" (f/n) please, wait ! " he told her, his tone begging, something that made her eyes round, the female halting her steps as she heard the loud plea.

" Don't go," he begged her, his voice resonating with an air of desperation that could be detected a mile away.

" I've missed you...I've missed you so, so much," he confessed to her, a hand clutching his chest as he tried to relieve the ache that had begun as soon as he'd seen her draw away from him.

" I'm an idiot when it comes to this," he admitted,

"But ..." He started, taking in a long, low breath,

" But I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a piece of shit to you.

I'm sorry I missed out on so much.

I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.

I'm sorry that...

I'm sorry there's too much for me to apologize for," He said while he stepped towards her, moving only by a single step before he watched her stand stiffly still, her breath halted for just a moment as she collected herself before turning back to him, her body trembling all the while.

"I'm sorry that I never told you I loved you," he went on, keeping his eyes glued to her widened (e/c) colored ones,

" I'm sorry that during all the time we were together, I was too stupid to see how much I was hurting you," He told her.

"You didn't deserve it...Just like I didn't deserve you,"

"Leone," she breathed in disbelief.

It felt strange to stand before him while being so bashful, her face suddenly glowing as she felt younger, smaller, and inexperienced as though it was the first time she'd ever laid eyes on him.

chuckling softly, he thought back to their first kiss, remembering she'd made the same sweet expression that had been caught between surprise as well as joy, and so much more he didn't properly appreciate back then,

The lilac of his lipstick smudged over the corner of her lips, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the color invading her face and staining it pink.

"Your first?" He asked her, sounding cocky, pridefully gazing at her flustered daze, finding it utterly adorable.

"No," She breathed before giggling, fingers touching her tingling, purple-stained lips,

" Just the best," she revealed to him, backing away from him, playfully grinning before he reached her, giving her another press, the second time holding her so tightly she could feel his muscles flex.

His lips fell over her, softly grazing hers until she responded back, slowly at first before she came to, not having realized how much they'd gravitated towards each other until she tasted the familiar addicting savor of his mouth.

"Leone..?" She murmured again, small, light tears falling down her face.

'You...You really mean to tell me that all this time.. all this time you thought of me too?' She thought with a heavy heart.

Stepping back, he offered her a soft smile, one that became even gentler as he noticed a pair of large, glossy eyes blinking up at him, eyeing him curiously.

"Mamma?" (d/n) asked, her voice soft and sweet, though still laced with sleep,

"Who's that?" she murmured, wondering just who was the man that stood before her mother.

(f/n) had always figured she'd bawl at the question, but somehow she held back her tears, a soft smile coming into play as she gently wiped back the little tears that had escaped earlier,

"(d/n)..." (f/n) started, introducing the little girl to the man before her,

- the same one whose eyes shined, nearly tearing up, but holding back all the pain of before to show his child a smile of welcome and nothing less,

"Welcome Home," he said softly, looking towards them both while he tried to settle the unsteady pace of his heart.

Fluffier pieces following this:

Playing Princess

Meeting Giorno

[alittlebitgoofy]

if i had my way i would be yours chapter five (taywhora)

fuck ME this chapter kicked my ass but i’m gonna go insane if i go over it any longer so here it is, the long awaited chapter with some smut. it’s the last scene if you want to skip it, the rest is clean

ao3 link

Tayce felt like she was floating on air when A’whora got close to her. Her heart couldn’t handle the cuteness of her roommate in their affectionate moments. She had no idea what she did, innocently cuddling into her as friends did. 

Because they were just friends. Only friends and nothing more. And it totally wasn’t eating Tayce up inside with every moment she realised that. Not at all. 

A’whora herself was just glad to have her friend back, living without Tayce in close proximity was so strange, she loved the way the brunette always kept things interesting in their flat. There was always something going on with her and even when there wasn’t she made something happen. Somehow trying to relax and watch a movie turned into a gossip session, rife with giggles and stories of stupid things no one else would find as funny. But it made them laugh until their faces hurt. Because they were together. 

A’whora took Tayce’s coming out as a chance to bond over something different. She introduced Tayce to small bits of queer culture at a time, though she’d absorbed a lot through being best friends with a lesbian for years and having their whole circle of friends being part of the LGBT. 

“How do I know this will scream I like women?” she’d questioned while A’whora helped her with outfits for a night out. The pair were determined to make sure Tayce had a good first experience at a gay bar while out. She was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, a similarly dark flannel shirt, and a leather jacket. She could not have looked more gay if she tried, though the way the jeans clung to her ass made A’whora rethink agreeing to help her with everything. How was she so hot? She would look so good under her clothes, what A’whora could give to rip that flannel off her and- 

She needed to sort herself out before they left. Her feelings, how hot Tayce was and alcohol was a dangerous combination. She could hold herself together if only Tayce would stop looking so good. 

---

They were late to get there, they always were with Tayce’s lack of time management and A’whora having to spend hours getting ready for anything. It was a bad combination but that didn’t motivate them to fix it, plus people were used to Tayce being late, including A’whora because they were attached at the hip.

They joined Bimini and Asttina once they got inside, Lawrence and Ellie joining soon after. 

“So what actually happened? She was fuming, you were having communication issues and now it’s all fine? You two never cease to amaze me.” Asttina got right to the point, an eyebrow raised as A’whora gave a nervous smile 

-

Tayce felt relaxed by the alcohol in her system, though neither her nor A’whora were particularly drunk; they were a fun level of tipsy, giggling amongst themselves much to their friends' chagrin. A’whora was joking about something, Tayce found it hard to focus on her speech with how cute she was. Her dimples showed as she smiled, laughing at her own joke. 

“Tayce? Are you even listening! That was really funny!” She whined, poking Tayce in the shoulder to get her attention, pouting as she got an eye roll in response. 

“Maybe if it was that funny I would have listened.” Tayce quipped back, holding back a laugh as A’whora whined even more. 

“You’re such a bitch, why are we even friends?”

“Because, someone has to put up with you. Figured I'd give the world a favour.” Tayce smirked, delighting in the huff that the blonde let out before taking another sip of her drink.

“Tayce!” 

“I’m kidding, you’re sweet if not a bit annoying sometimes, it’s what I love about you, you know that, dumbass”

“Yeah, I am pretty loveable.” A’whora bounced back quickly from her annoyance, her chest warming at the compliment. She tried to play it off, flicking her hair in an overdramatic show of confidence. 

“Your ego isn’t” Tayce deadpanned, erupting into laughter as A’whora gasped, hand on her chest in exaggerated shock. 

“You’re cute, don’t let it get to your head though.” Tayce wondered if it was the alcohol giving her the confidence to say what she thought. A’whora could react in any kind of way but she didn’t care. 

“You’re not so bad looking yourself, still a bit of an ass though.”

“You say that like you’re not the biggest cunt I've ever met.” 

“Well, you are what you eat.” The blonde grinned as Tayce shook her head at the comment. She delighted in shocking her and causing reactions, 

“You’re disgusting oh my god.”

“What? You’ll discover how good it is soon enough. I know it’s been a minute but you’ll find a girl to show you soon.”

“Aurora please stop talking about my lack of a sex life.” Tayce shook her head, for all that she loved about her A’whora did not have a way with words. She was open to a fault and found it hilarious how squeamish Tayce would get when she got explicit. She could handle most of it after a while but the way she would switch mid-conversation was something too unpredictable to deal with. 

Despite all that, she was still adorable in the way she burst into giggles at Tayce’s plea, agreeing while trying to compose herself. 

“What are you two laughing about, it must be something hilarious to have her laughing like a diseased seal.” Lawrence interrupted them, though Tayce was thankful that A’hwora couldn’t go further with her comments. She wasn’t drunk enough to deal with it yet. 

“Wouldn’t you lovebirds like to know? You two been shagging in the toilets or something? Haven’t seen you since you came in here.” Tayce looked them up and down, noticing the lipstick slightly smudged. They’d been getting up to something, it was obvious by the way Lawrence stammered trying to respond with a quip and failing. Ellie stood silent, shaken by how perceptive Tayce could be.

A’whora had no such reaction, laughing harder as they stood slack-jawed and hanging onto Tayce in a feeble attempt to calm herself. 

“At least they’re finally doing something about it, watching them fumble around their feelings while ignoring any possibility of mutual feelings was just painful.'' A'whora shook her head, delighting in the way Tayce snickered, nodding emphatically in agreement. She internally sighed in relief that Lawrence was still in shock and didn’t notice the way she looked at Tayce when she laughed. 

She didn’t need them pulling attention to her feelings. 

Not when she could barely hold them in.

“What is it with everyone tonight? Bim and Asttina are all over each other, have a bit of class you hounds!” Tayce exclaimed, shaking her head in mock judgement at the couples. Part of her still didn’t love seeing people in a situation she found almost impossible but it was easier now, as if the weight had finally been lifted when she came out to A’whora. It felt good to be understood, to have someone so attuned to you they knew what was happening and exactly what she needed. Tayce shifted, perhaps it was the alcohol but she couldn’t help but think she didn’t deserve how lovely A’whora was. Though no one did, she was perfect, too good for the world she lived in.

She ached to verbalise it, pull the blonde close, and whisper how much she adored her, though Lawrence and Ellie were still there and they were in public. She just wanted to give affection but it didn’t come easy. Maybe with some time? 

The scots seemed more interested in each other than whatever light conversation had happened between the four of them, something must have been in the air to explain the way their companions split off into pairs, interested in no one else than their partners. 

Tayce wished she could be one of them, hold A’whora close and press soft kisses to her as the alcohol broke down her barriers, leaving her a melted putty in A’whora’s hands. 

“What’s got you thinking so hard? Is everyone pairing off making you have an existential crisis or something?” A’whora jabbed lightly, Tayce letting out a laugh at the comment. She didn’t know how to respond, it wasn’t easy to communicate your feelings to your roommate, the fear it would make things unfixable between them heavy on her heart after their previous spat. It wasn’t worth the risk, not to lose her. 

“I just think it’s funny how they paired up. Lawrence and Ellie used to mope with us about being single while Bims was the only one with any balls to say something to someone they liked. Now it’s just us two.” Tayce mused, feeling a hand take her own and give it a slight squeeze. A’whora stared at her, smiling softly. IT was an innocent gesture that sent her reeling further. She really had no idea the power she had in making Tayce feel like she was floating at any sign of affection. 

“It’ll happen to us eventually, you’ve only just come out there’s no need to rush things, no matter who you date.”

“Thanks, Rory. You’ve been really helpful with all of this.” Tayce’s softer tone told the blonde everything she needed to know. Her words were tender, heartfelt. It was a rarity for Tayce to be so open, it felt good. 

No words had to be exchanged. Maybe something was different, they stayed close, Tayce’s hand stayed held by A’whora’s own. Tayce felt a warmth envelop her body that couldn’t have been the alcohol. The way A’whora looked at her just added to it, something playful in her eyes as she smiled at Tayce as if she’d done anything more than sitting there and melt over her pretty roommate. 

“Shit, I think everyone is going to do their own thing, Tayce, maybe we should go?”

“Yeah, I was getting kind of bored of watching them almost fuck in a bar. Takeaway?” Tayce asked, smirking as A’whora’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. 

“You read my mind.”

---

“You good there, Rory?” Tayce watched her roommate distractedly attempting to put some chips in her mouth and failing, blinking in surprise at Tayce calling her attention. She shrugged, the alcohol had mostly faded and she was too busy trying to distract herself with anything that wasn’t Tayce’s current state of dress. She’d complained of being too hot, stripping into a bra, and still in her jeans. It drove a’whora insane to look at. She couldn’t hold herself in if she looked for too long. Though she turned to Tayce as she spoke, soon coming to regret her decision. 

“You like what you’re seeing?” Tayce felt A’whora’s eyes on her, mouth agape. She wanted to mess with her, winking. Internally she was delighting in the way she blushed at the comment. Was she always this easy to rile up? It was probably the alcohol but they both felt pretty sober now. Something about having the blonde unable to take her eyes off her was enchanting. It made her heart speed up, something fluttering in her chest but something else she wasn’t so used to. Something churning below, a desire for a certain someone she was finding harder to contain by the minute. 

“You should put a shirt on,” A’whora muttered out meekly, unable to verbalise much of anything above a pitiful whine. She couldn’t do this, not with Tayce being so hot and her being so pent up. It had been too long, she just wanted to hold someone and make them scream in pleasure. She wanted to know what Tayce would sound like mid climax, would she squeal? Breathe heavily? A’whora pegged her as a quieter person, letting out low moans and grunts as she was pleasured. She wanted to test it, see what would make her squirm and-

Fuck. 

She was too horny to be dealing with this.

“What if I didn’t? Would it drive you insane if I took this shirt off? You wanna see my tits, don’t you, you absolute hound.” Tayce eyed her up like a predator staring at its prey. The way she licked her lips while maintaining eye contact sent A’whora. She couldn’t handle it anymore. She crawled over, placing Tayce’s box of chips on the side before unhooking her bra. Tayce let out a hum of curiosity, nodding to signal A’whora to keep going. 

This was far too interesting not to watch. The way A’whora’s eyes stayed trained on her chest, flickering up to gauge Tayce’s reaction every time she did something. With another nod she went further, hands cupping Tayce’s breasts, thumb running over her nipples, and delighting in the way Tayce’s breath hitched. She kept at it, Tayce letting out small noises at the action. Something was about to happen, they both knew it. It was the last chance to bail out before they ended up doing it and Tayce just nodded once more, eyes serious as she smiled at the blonde. 

A’whora took the go-ahead, pulling her into a searing kiss. Tayce could feel her lust in the way she grabbed at her hair, lightly pulling it to steer her into where she wanted. Tayce followed her instincts, letting her lips trail down A’whora’s cheek and feeling herself wetten at the noises she let out. 

A’whora was loud, she knew that already but to be causing those noises and seeing her squirm was doing something to Tayce. She couldn’t hold herself back. She had to close the distance between their lips as A’whora let out a soft moan. 

“We should take this to the bedroom,” A’whora spoke quietly, not sure how much she could get out without Tayce getting more noise out of her. 

Tayce nodded, following A’whora as she pulled her into her room and lightly pushed her down onto the bed. She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as she got on top of her, hovering about her body as she pulled her into another lustful kiss. 

Tayce tried to get the same rise out of A’whora, running her hands all over her body. Grasping at her tits as A’whora had before. Something had shifted in her the second they hit that mattress. Her eyes sparkled with something that sent a shiver down Tayce’s spine. She knew exactly what she wanted and wouldn’t focus on anything else. 

She wanted Tayce, and she was going to get her. 

A’whora took the lead, her hands exploring the body beneath her as Tayce groaned in pleasure. The sound encouraged her more, snaking her hands down to where her jeans were still on, unzipping them, and helping Tayce out of them. A few fingers fell to her underwear, rubbing through it to see where she was and delighting in the soft whine Tayce let out. 

A thought crossed her mind about making her beg for it, drawing something out of Tayce that she’d never seen but it wasn’t the right time for that. She just wanted to make her feel good, they could play around next time.

Tayce didn’t know how to deal with the pleasure erupting through her body. She muffled a moan into her hand at how well A’whora seemed to know what she was doing. Every flex of her fingers sent ripples through Tayce. She was helpless against her touch and could only let out low moans begging for more. 

A’whora blessed her, speeding up her fingers. Tayce threw her head back, shamelessly letting out a loud groan at how good it felt. She couldn’t help but melt against her roommate's touch. Something about her was so good, it was better than anything Tayce had ever felt. 

If this was what sex was like, she’d never want to go to anyone else. 

She wanted to pull A’whora into another kiss but her body had made another decision, her mind clouded only able to focus on the building feeling of irrepressible pleasure.

A’whora felt her building up, speeding herself up and pressing kisses to Tayce’s thighs, suppressing a smirk at how she gasped at the feeling. She removed her fingers slowly, pressing her mouth to her slick cunt. Tayce let out an uncharacteristically high whine as her tongue hit all the right spots. She squirmed against 

Tayce let out the sound again, lasting longer as she climaxed, A’whora moved back to her fingers to lull her out of it before crawling up to cuddle Tayce as she laid back, recovering from it all. 

“What about you?” Tayce hummed, her tone thick with tiredness. A’whora wanted to laugh at how easily she was wiped out but thought better of it. She was too cute like this, a dopey grin playing on her features as she was still running off the high from her orgasm.

“I’m alright, I just wanted to make you feel good. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” A’whora shrugged, her chest warming as Tayce scooted closer to curl into her arms. 

“Me too.” The dopey smile returned, Tayce’s words warm with affection in a way that made the blonde’s heart soar. 

Tayce didn’t say much more, passing out with her head on A’whora’s chest, held close by her arms. This was it, all she wanted. A’whora savoured the moment before succumbing to her fatigue, smiling as she heard a muffled “gnight Rory” on the brink of consciousness. 

[faerielleart]

Your les mis!levihan stuff gives me life 😭😭😭 Any chance we can get some more headcanons??? 🖐️

ANON MY CHILD YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE also this is like . Probably really niche so forgive me oomfies for getting really specific about thIS

uhmmm let’s see, i’m trying to imagine the vets’ voices and associating them to the actual stage actors

for erwin i imagine him sounding a lot like either bradley jaden or daniel diges from the spanish adaptation, just a really really powerful voice that makes buildings shake ✨ and recently i’ve found out that john owen jones understudied enjolras back in 1997 and i’ve listened to the audio and i loVE IT so yeah lemme throw a bit of JOJ voice in there as well; and yeah since he’s got the range he’s totally going for the optional high note in “let others rise to take our place until the earth is FREEEE”. for his mannerisms i feel like he’d do his homework and he’d try to emulate book!enjolras more than the usual direction the show takes with this character. i imagine erwin’s fav moment in the play would be getting to “scold” marius-levi for being distracted by his love for hanji-cosette. like i just see him really exaggerating the “MARIUS YOU’RE NO LONGER A CHILD” in red and black during rehearsals and idk the thought gives me life lmaooo also in drink with me he’d totally go for a hug with mike who plays grantaire (erumike stans make some noise), as anton zetterholm used to do back in 2013/14 and in general would be really touchy with all the students on the barricade. he Loves the red and gold vest, absolutely hates the paris outfit. he is so tall and wearing the all black suit he feels like he looks like a penguin. also HATES being in the ensemble playing a convict during the prologue bc the fake dirt is really hard to wash off and he doesn’t want to stain the pristine white shirt he wears as enjolras

for levi it’s a bit harder to find a voice that suits him as the play tends to cast tenors for marius and levi is clearly a baritone in this au so i’m going with classic michael ball, who might be the marius with the deepest voice i’ve heard among all, with definitely less vibrato and definitely less less less less polished vocals as in my au dude has never taken singing lessons. i feel like he’d absolutely loathe having to sing “in my life/a heart full of love” at first bc come on can you imagine levi singing shit like “IN MY LIIIIFE SHE HAS BURST LIKE THE MUSIC OF ANGELS, THE LIGHT OF THE SUUUUN” SKDJDKSMSKAHSH but yk after spending more and more time with hanji mf actually starts to enjoy it ��� but his favourite scene to play i guess would be drink with me, bc it gives him a weird sense of nostalgia and deja-vu that he really can’t explain to himself but it’s a pleasant feeling. would probably dread having to sing empty chairs at empty tables bc it’s nerve-wracking for him as it’s a bit out of his range and doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of the audience if he fails the high notes on “the very WOOORDS that they had sung BECAAAME their last communion” and “oh my friends my FRIEEENDS DON’T ASK MEEEE” but he’d emote really well nonetheless even with unpolished vocals good job bby we’re all proud of you!! also hanji totally helps him out with vocal exercises. refuses playing a convict in the ensemble and gets yelled at by the directors for it but there’s no way in hell he’s smearing fake dirt all over his body. he loves the paris suit tho makes him feel ✨classy✨. doesn’t roll up his sleeves at the barricade bc he feels like an idiot

for hanji WELL i see her voice being similar to katie hall, with a really giddy and carefree take on cosette and a strong tone that’s never screechy; compared to many cosettes i feel like katie has a much less soft voice and is actually really loud? as if playing christine in phantom of the opera (IF YOU CAN’T TELL KATIE IS MY FAV COSETTE AND MY FAV CHRISTINE so of course imma assign her to hanjo). cosette is a soprano role and i imagine hanji as a mezzo with an amazingly developed upper range and head voice (thank you @ hanji’s parents for all those classical singing lessons). also katie has a really nice belt and her fantine has me scream and cry so yeah that’s hanji’s voice in my head, just imagine it a lil bit deeper! hanji’s fav scene would probably be the wedding bc of the thenardiers acting goofy, and her fav song to sing would be a heart full of love just bc she gets to witness levi acting bashful while singing “cosette, i don’t know what to say” and she answers “then make no sound” with the biggest shit eating grin EVER and levi wants to say “stop making fun of me four eyes” SO BAD but he can’t bc he’d mess up the scene and they’d have to start again and he’s not sure he can handle staring lovingly into hanji’s eyes and holding hands and oops maybe at some point the whole “falling in love” thing stops being an act 🤡 what a clown he is,,,,,,, ALSO hanji probably loves being an ensemble member in the the lovely ladies scene as well bc of the bright exaggerated make up?? and all the dirt like she has so much fun in the dressing room smearing the paint all over her body and then putting on white powder and smudged red lipstick and bright red unblended blush. loves the combo corset + pants in the scene

also can i just say that the abc cafe is pretty much everyone’s fav scene bc they get away with teasing the shit out of levi without risking their lives lmao

[breakingsomething]

Dawn Station - Part Two

Basic summary: Chase Brody is being kept safe, far away from other people. So he thinks.

Content warnings: gore, body horror, stabbing, emeto, death mentions

Chase Brody is not ok.

Of course he's not. How is he expected to be? Ten people have died, and now he's being told he's next. He's been under police protection for days and judging by the strained snippets of conversation that he's caught from officers, even the others that had been with him are gone. Ten people, they had said. As far as Chase is aware, there were only nine other youtubers who'd been roped into this shit. Who else has this monster that wants them dead killed along with them? Does he even want to know?

He's been in this room for… three days? Four? Fuck, he doesn't remember. All he knows now is white walls, too close around him, with a bed, a tv in the top corner that he doesn't have a remote for, a black bin, a rolling table that's covered in books and other assorted things that he managed to bring with him, and two doors, one of which that leads to a small bathroom and one of which that leads outside. The second door only opens when he's being brought food. No one's telling him anything. He's scared out his mind.

An officer, a pale skinned woman with orange braids and a sympathetic smile, comes in a couple hours after he wakes for the day with breakfast. Toast, cold, with butter slabs and little packets of jam and sugar for his tea. Also cold. "Sorry, we don't have any Weetabix," she tells him with furrowed eyebrows and a sad tilt of the mouth as she clicks the door behind him. "We do have Cheerios and porridge, if you want something more to eat."

It's all he can do not to laugh. "No, thank you," says Chase, in a hoarse voice that hasn't been used in hours. "I want my phone back."

The officer winces. Her eyes are dark, crimson lipstick slightly smudged. Her nametag says "Sarah" on it in violet ink. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, in a voice so soft and falsely sympathetic it makes Chase want to scream. "I don't know if we can do that. We -"

"The others are dead, aren't they?" Chase interrupts. He knows this already. But it's worth saying to see the woman flinch. "All of them. So much for your oh-so-safe "police custody" bullshit."

She attempts to gather herself as professionally as she can, which is seemingly rather difficult. "I'm sorry," she repeats, and something about her tone is more genuine than before. "They are. But I swear to you, Mr Brody, we are doing everything we can to -"

"If I am going to die today," Chase says, interrupting again. "I want to talk to my goddamn family one more fucking time. Please get me my phone."

She stiffens, but gives a jerky little nod. He doesn't smile at her as she leaves. Not much to smile about. But she comes back ten minutes later and wordlessly hands him his slim rose phone, no expression on her face. He manages to upturn the corner of his lips in response.

Once she's left again, he turns his phone on and practically sighs at the sight of his two kids on his lockscreen. Little Connor and Louise, tiny kiddos, dressed up in their pristine school uniforms and grinning cheesily. His heart swells, and he swallows hard as the lump in his throat seems to expand. He can't cry. He's been crying enough lately. To think that two weeks ago, he was ecstatic to be receiving an email from Jack Mcloughlin himself, giving him the opportunity to play his new game's demo early. Look at him now.

Stacy is at the top of his contacts list, but only because he has her favourited still. He's not sure why. It just feels right to have her there. Her picture is a small, grainy image of her face next to a three year old Connor's. He has her looks more than Louise. Louise looks like her dad. She's a daddy's girl. Chase misses her so much it aches, and closes his eyes as he clicks Stacy's number.

She answers almost immediately. "Chase?" she yells, causing him to wince and pull the phone away from his ears. He hears her inhale sharply. "Sorry. Christ, Chase - Where the fuck are you?"

He swallows again, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. His legs are already beginning to bounce. "Police didn't tell you anything, huh," he mutters. "I'm in custody. They're apparently "keeping me safe," but I'm well aware of the fact that the others - Persephone, Rodney, Stanley, and Khia - are. Well." He clears his throat. "Dead."

He says it so matter of factly that you wouldn't know how close he was to tears had you not seen his face.

Stacy shifts, and Chase hears a door slam faintly. Two small voices giggle far off. He bites down on his lip as Stacy talks again. "Yeah. That's… yeah. Chase, I'm sorry. Uh… Jack Mcloughlin's dead too."

Chase sits bolt upright, eyes suddenly wide. "What?"

Stacy sounds alarmed. "I - Yes, did they not tell you? He died maybe two days ago. Same way as all the others. I'm sorry, Chase."

He can't breathe for a moment. Then he's numb and his body settles into cold, unfeeling static.

"Ok," he says flatly. "Great."

"Chase -"

"How are the kids?" he asks before she can finish. He's tired. He's been doing nothing but sleeping and he's tired. "I can hear them in the background, ha. Sounds like a fun time."

He can hear her scratching the space behind her ear. She does that when she's anxious. Nervous habit. She had gotten a little tattoo of a bee there when they were seventeen. It was a dare from their friend Daniel, who had also gotten a tattoo of a crocodile on his left thigh. Chase has a black bear on his right shoulder from the same occasion. When he and Stacy had been together, they would sometimes kiss the other's tattoos and descend into giggles remembering that slightly drunken night back in Ireland. His chest feels tight thinking about it. His eyes glaze over, and he tries to focus on something across the room.

"They're… not great," Stacy murmurs after a moment, making him jump. He had almost forgotten she was there. "Some brat at school told them about - this whole situation. Told them their dad was going to die. Apparently, she made up a song about it."

Chase hisses softly, grateful for another emotion besides grief and missing to focus on. "Fuck's sake. Which kid was this?"

"You know that girl who was making fun of Louise's accent last year and put chips in her hair?"

"That kid again? I thought the school dealt with her."

A sigh. "Apparently not. They came home in tears. I've been keeping them home since then."

Chase shakes his head in disbelief. "Shit, Stace. Can I… can I talk to them?"

She sighs again. "I… I suppose. But - how have you been? I take it its not been great, but are you at least ok?"

What counts as ok? He doesn't know. "I'm not dead yet. So there's something. I guess I can't really say much more than that."

"Papa?" cries a voice on the end of the line, and a grin breaks Chase's face as he recognizes his son, Connor, yelling from somewhere quite close to Stacy. "Is that Papa? Mama, let us talk - Louise, Papa's on the phone!"

Chase can't help but laugh as his daughter also chimes in, two little voices clamoring for his attention. "Calm down, kiddos, there's plenty of me to go round," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face so he can concentrate. "How are you both? One at a time, Louise first."

"Favouritism," he hears Connor sulk, but the boy quiets.

"I'm ok," Louise beams. He can hear her smile, and sees it when he closes his eyes. "I can't go to school cause Megan Penicuik was being mean. We made cookies, though, me and Con-Con! All by ourselves, no help from Mama at all!"

"Now, that's simply not true," he hears Stacy laugh in the background. Chase laughs too, his heart suddenly aching. Something weighs heavy in his chest, but he tries to push it away, feeling sick.

A scuffle on the end of the line, and then it's Connor speaking. "I miss you, Papa!" he cries. "I wanna give you a - a chocolate chip cookie, I have one here." His voice becomes muffled, and Chase hears him chewing. "Yum yum yum. Can we push a cookie down the phone? Like, through the speakers, Mama!"

Chase listens to a small squabble break out, then hears Stacy sigh dramatically. "They're doing just fine," she says, sounding so tired, yet vaguely amused. "I… I hate to say it, but I should probably go. Connor's games club is in half an hour and I haven't gotten ready at all. My makeup's a state." Her voice softens. "Will you be… ok?"

Will he? He doesn't know.

"Stace," he murmurs. His chest feels tight. "I could die. Like, tonight. That's what people are saying. I'm the last one left."

A pause, then Stacy lets out a shaky sigh. "Christ, Chase…"

He gathers his strength. "Listen. Listen, Stace. If I die tonight - I just want you to know how much I love you, ok? Even if we… if we weren't meant to be together anymore. You're one of my best friends, you know? So… take care of the kids. Don't lose yourself. And by god, don't start drinking again."

She gives a choked laugh. "Chase. God, I - Don't fucking die tonight."

He doesn't know how to tell her he won't have a choice.

As soon as the call's ended, he opens up his roommate's contact. He can't stand the echoing silence that seems to go on forever in the minute or so before the ringing starts. He supposes that if tonight is his last night alive, he should say goodbye. Even if it hurts. Even if it makes him feel sick to say it.

He nearly sobs with relief when he hears the line click, and a familiar German accent speak loudly in his ear. "Chase?"

Chase sniffles, laughing softly. "Hey, Henny."

Henrik curses, and something slams. "Mother of God, Chase Brody, do you have any idea - Are you - Fuck, are you alright?"

Good question. "I don't know," he admits, bouncing his leg anxiously, and staring at his chipped black nails. "I mean, I'm… scheduled to die tonight. So probably not. Really, I've been weirdly calm about all this."

Henrik huffs, and Chase can almost picture him getting red in the face, yanking back his hair and staring out the window of their flat with narrowed, pale blue eyes. "They have not done anything about it? Surely it is not possible that a murderer who is killing in patterns cannot be apprehended? You would think that would be easy, especially if you are being held in high security. Motherfucking useless British police. Not that German ones were much better, but Christ -"

Chase cuts him off before he can rant for another five minutes. "How are the others? Are Jackie, Marv and Jem holding up ok?"

Henrik sighs, blowing out his cheeks. "Mhm. Marvin has gone a bit mad. Fucking idiot is spending way too much time online, reading up on your situation. He seems convinced that you are going to die as well. According to Jackie, he spent all of yesterday out of the house and came back saying he had been performing. But Jackie says he had not had any parties scheduled for that day, so he was talking shit."

Chase winces. His friend Marvin is a child's birthday party performer, a magician, and spends a lot of time perfecting fun tricks and illusions to add into his routine. Chase knows how much he enjoys his job. But he also knows that Marvin's habit of spending hours on internet forums and sites, learning things from other performers, can be bad for him. "Christ. I… Goddammit it. How's Jackie coping?"

He hears a microwave go off in the background. Henrik mutters something that Chase can't hear, then keeps talking. "Jackie has been at the gym every day since you were taken in. Overworking himself. He did come round yesterday and, uh, spoke about how scared he was for you. Cried a lot, poor man. I am not good with comforting people, but I tried. He does not know what to do with himself anymore."

This isn't surprising. Chase is well aware of Jackie's habit of overexercising and pushing himself too far when he was angry or upset. "And Jameson?"

Something clatters, like Henrik's rummaging in a cupboard. A fridge opens and slams shut, and then Henrik is back. "He has been round at our flat a lot. Did you know Euan ended things with him? I did not, until he told me the day before yesterday. He was dreadfully upset. The timing was… not great, to say the least. I do not think he is doing too well, but he refuses to accept any of the help I wish to give him. He kept asking about me instead. Really, sometimes I wish he was not such a good actor."

So does Chase. Jameson is never one to be open about his feelings, instead trying to help everyone else first. Chase loves him a lot, but he wishes the filmmaker would be less stubborn and insistent that he was always ok. His heart aches at the thought of Jameson suffering alone, especially now - he and his boyfriend Euan had been so close, as well. The thought that he might never be able to figure out what happened between them hurts. "Me too. God, Hen, me too. Give them all my love though, yeah? Tell Marvin to take some time to do self care, and tell Jackie to take breaks, and tell Jameson to talk to his therapist. And you… don't you overwork yourself either. I know what you're like. Only one cup of coffee a day, dude, remember. Don't make me come over there."

Henrik laughs softly, but there's a sadness to it. "You sound as though you are saying goodbye."

Something stabs into Chase's heart. He tries to catch his breath through the lump in his throat. "Henrik. I'm going to die tonight."

There's a long pause. He can hear Henrik adjusting, rubbing his face and knocking his glasses askew. Maybe he knows his roommate too well. Far too well, maybe well enough that he knows what he'll say next. "There has to be another way."

Chase shakes his head despite Henrik being unable to see him. "No. No, Hen, no. This - this is what's happening, and we can't just… fix it. I wish we could, cause I don't even understand why, and it's so scary, and… God, I wish we could. I have so much left I want to do, and…"

He trails off. Henrik doesn't speak. Chase imagines him pulling the phone away from his face, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his mouth so as not to cry. The image hurts. Chase hurts. He holds the phone tight, aching to be somewhere, anywhere else other than here.

"You know," he says, voice choked as he speaks. "It's ironic how much I wanted to die a few months ago, and now I'm here, and I'm suddenly so scared."

"You are not going to die," Henrik suddenly shouts. There is anger in his voice that Chase knows is not directed at him. "You are not. It will not just all end like that, Chase Brody. I will not let it."

Something hot pricks the backs of Chase's eyes. He swallows hard, his chest tightening, his legs bouncing harder. "Henrik. Henrik, I - I have to go. I have to go. I'm sorry. I love you, dude. You know that? I love you."

"Chase," Henrik practically sobs. "Shit, I love you too. But you are not going to die."

Chase ends the call and throws up in the black bin next to his bed.

-

Night comes quickly, Chase thinks.

He thinks, because an officer comes to take his phone soon after his call with Henrik ends. He's starting to regret hanging up, but it had to have been what was best. Of course it was what was best. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does. This is something he has to keep telling himself. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does.

The officers ask what he wants for dinner that night instead of giving him choices. He gets it. It's a last meal. He takes full advantage of it and orders pepperoni cheese stuffed crust pizza and garlic sticks, his favourite, with barbeque sauce and churros. It all tastes like cardboard. He eats it anyway, because he's bored and his mouth still tastes like vomit and if he's going to die, it's only fitting that he goes out with a Domino's in him.

Before he's even finished eating, an armed guard comes and takes him across the building. It's the first time he's left his room in days, and he's surprised to see how dark it is outside, how little people are around. The few people he does see stare at him, some open mouthed with awe, some with sad eyes like a parent trying to tell their child that their pet fish died. Chase stares at the floor. Stares at the gun tucked into the waistband of the officer in front of him. He's scared, and his heart is racing faster than it has in years, and he thinks he's dissociating a little because he doesn't feel real and his fingertips are numb. Adrenaline thrums through his body, warming him and erasing the painful cold. Fuck, but he's scared. He's so, so goddamn scared.

He's taken to an entirely different room, a slightly bigger one that looks nearly the same, but with wooden chairs sat all around the border. There's no TV in this room. "Sit here," one of the officers says, guiding him to the blue covered bed and gesturing for him to sit. He does so, feeling silly and light with panic. He thinks he's going to be sick again. His breaths aren't coming right and fuck, he might faint from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness that's washing over him now.

One of the officers that has just come in walks over and sits next to him. He's in full uniform, a radio on his vest, a bat strapped to his belt. "Are you alright, Mr Brody?" he asks gently, looking at him with kind brown eyes, and Chase sobs with relief for some kind of comfort.

"H-h-having a p-panic attack," he stammers, shifting on the bed to try and feel something, clawing at his skin under his grey hoodie and desperately trying not to cry. "N-need my - my - my asth-ma in-inhaler, p-please, I can't br-breathe -"

He's brought his inhaler, and he clutches it gratefully, clinging to it like a child. The cold button grounds him. Maybe, maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut tight enough, he'll wake up in his bed at home and be able to get up and shower in a bathroom that's not small or lit too brightly and then he can go downstairs to the kitchen to find Henrik half asleep at the table, three cups of coffee in front of him, wearily participating in whatever Chase's dumb early morning joke is, and then he can eat toast that's not burnt or done too lightly and play his music while he writes or goes on a walk outside. Maybe. Maybe.

The armed guards keep watch over him for two full hours.

Chase Brody is terrified.

It's when it hits the two and a half hour mark that he begins to notice anything different. A faint ringing in his ears. He thinks it's his tinnitus and waves it off, simply swatting at the air around his head like that will help at all. One of the guards notices immediately. "Sir, are you alright?"

Chase nods. He's not, but he doesn't need them dithering over him. Unfortunately, the guard doesn't let up. "Seriously, it's important that you tell us what's happening. Anything at all. Anything that could help you."

Well, that's reassuring. "Strange noise," he murmurs, shaking his hair out his face. "I think it's just me, though, I'm alright -"

But the guard is standing, muttering something into the radio strapped to his chest, and is it Chase's imagination, or are more people entering the room? "What's happening?" he asks, but he gets no response, and he's starting to feel strangely dizzy and tired, like something heavy is dragging his eyelids down. "I don't… h-hey, I don't feel too… too well…"

Someone is speaking to him but the world is already blurring, his head light, floaty. "Stacy?" he slurs, trying to get a grip on the bedsheets beneath him. "Someone needs t'... m'kids, they…"

-

Chase Brody is no longer in the same room as he was before.

He doesn't know when that changed. He can't pinpoint the exact moment where the walls darkened and raised with pipes and doors and panels, he doesn't know when his bed disappeared beneath him and the floor became sticky and black, he doesn't know when the bright light of his room became a soft blue glow, lighting up the room from behind him. He doesn't know when the room had stretched both ways into a long hallway, lined with slivers of light through the windows. He doesn't know why, when he stands, his legs nearly crumple beneath him. And when he turns - god, when he turns, and he looks out the enormous windows behind him - he doesn't know why a calming sensation of numbness settles over him, burning his skin like pins and needles.

He is staring out at the vast abyss of space.

It's a blackness he's never seen before. It seems to go on forever, and maybe it does, and there is nothing but tiny pinpricks of silver light of gaseous stars piercing the inky nothingness. Nothing but that, and the ball of green and blue that Chase knows, somewhere in his mind. Earth. Earth, where he is and isn't, where his body should be, where he never left, and what kind of nightmare is this? What kind of sick nightmare, he thinks dizzily, his thoughts chugging slowly as though through a thick soup. Everything is spinning. There is no sound, the world is broken, and the space is fucking endless.

Move, says the tiny part of his brain that still has sense. Get out. Get out.

His footsteps echo on the metal panes of the floor, and he resists the tightening urge in his stomach to vomit.

He doesn't know why this place is familiar.

The hallway seems to go on forever. All the doors along the way to the left have small, glowing panels beside them that seem to demand some type of access keycard, which Chase very much does not have. Eventually he reaches one that he can open, and stumbles into a large room with a table in the centre, the walls covered in photos and clippings that he doesn't bother taking closer looks at. There is only one small window in here, over a sleek black couch that seems to have nearly been shredded right through the middle. The table has a bolted down chair and a large pile of papers next to a cracked laptop that splutters weakly as it asks for a password. The room is too dark. Chase slowly walks through it, wincing at the sound his boots make on the floor, wincing at the silence, heart racing with the promise of another panic attack that he pushes down forcefully, gripping his own wrist for support. This isn't right, screams the universe. This is too familiar. This is too real. This is too familiar to be real.

Chase has noticed that everything in this place, despite its immediate appearance of immaculate properness, seems to be slightly out of place. This becomes more apparent in the room adjacent to the one he'd just been in, a room filled with sealed metal crates and boilers that bubble menacingly from their perches on the walls, a room which has clearly been nearly destroyed. Black claw marks have torn out chunks of the walls, wires ripped from the floor, buzzing weakly and sparking from wherever they were thrown after their violent uprooting. Dark red stains splash across the floor like a tragic painting that makes Chase's stomach upturn sickly. A vent on the ceiling hisses, and the man jumps and bolts, all last dregs of courage leaving him in an instant. He knows this is a dream. This is a dream, nothing is real, nothing is real, it must be just a dream.

"I've gone to hell," he sobs aloud, clamping both hands over his mouth as a cry climbs up his throat. "O-oh my god, I've gone to hell."

This is what you get for being a shitty, alcoholic dad and husband, he thinks, and promptly throws up on the floor next to the fresh bloodstains.

The rooms start to blur. Objects to objects, light to light, black walls and coloured glow and sparks, hissing, echoing rumbles, all becoming one in Chase's mind. He's long gone past the stage of a panic attack; he's in a state of utter numb calm, now. In one room he finds a long, black lighter and holds it tightly in his hands for comfort, twisting it round and round in buzzing fingers just to feel something solid against his skin to ground him. Please, he prays softly, wiping sweat from his forehead, struggling to breathe as his chest tightens and the world seems to grow hotter and smaller. Please, let me wake up, let me wake up from this, please.

And then something is standing behind him.

He doesn't know how he knows. It's just a sensation of silent shock in him, of I am not alone, a stabbing feeling as the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something is there. He feels eyes on him. He can't - fuck, he can't move, and all the emotion in him seems to be rising to a painful crescendo. I am not alone in here. I am not alone in here.

"Who's there," he says in a small, cracked voice, not daring to turn. It's barely a question. "What do you want from me."

Nothing but a low hissing, and, most frightening of all, a rumbling growl that nearly sends Chase to the floor in a faint.

He has to look.

He has to look.

He looks.

It's an… an astronaut.

Neither of them move, and Chase's grip on the lighter in his hands tightens, trying to find some form of comfort, anything. "Why am I here?" he manages, swallowing back hot bile that burns his throat and makes him gag softly. "Why, why, what nightmare is this? Am I dead? Did the killer get me and this is my hell?"

The astronaut is silent.

Fury bubbles in Chase's chest, overriding the fear for a moment. "Talk!" he shouts, perhaps stupidly, but he doesn't care. "Please! What is happening?"

Then things get perhaps even stranger, somehow. A glowing 2D box of light appears in front of the astronaut, hovering in the air, too quiet until black text begins to appear on it, cartoonishly video game like blooping noises playing with each letter. Chase watches in awe. He's unable to speak.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are the Player.

Chase reads the words over and over and over.

"My name is Chase Brody," he says, voice wavering with uncertainty, because something here is wrong, wrong, wrong, so ridiculously wrong, and he hates the way things are clicking in his mind. "I shouldn't - be here. I think I'm dreaming and I want to go home."

The text flashes.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are <player_variable_BroAverage>. You are the Player.

Chase feels like he's above his body, like nothing he's seeing is real anymore. "Please let me go home."

<TheAnti.chr_v09> I am <TheAnti.chr_v09>. I am the Anti. You are the player. Player objective: escape. Anti objective: kill the Player. Initialization - Upon game startup, play <soundtrack_opening2>, set spawn and character sprites -

Chase can't take this. "Stop it!" he cries, and he shouldn't step forwards so confidently, but he does, slashing his hand through the air in front of him. "Tell me what you -"

The astronaut explodes.

No. No, it doesn't explode; Chase's mind is taking a moment to make sense of it, to rationalize the way the helmet has shattered and there is nothing but sheer white and glowing green eyes, hundreds of them, underneath, the largest one on the being's neck, splitting open with disgustingly inhuman squelching sounds, and the way the suit has torn and a mouth has opened up on the stomach, a gaping maw with knives for teeth and a slimy crimson tongue, and the way rips open along the material and more eyes open, burning red skin like charred meat, black veins rising under its skin. It hisses and cracks and growls and hums and it isn't like anything Chase has ever seen before, or maybe it is, because he knows this monster. He's seen this monster. And fuck, now he knows why this world is familiar, because he's been here, he's played this game. This can't be real. This can't be real.

"Posttraumatic nightmares," he can hear Henrik saying to him, the man's voice comforting. "Nightmares that occur after a traumatic event and can contain, what is the word… recurring themes that make you experience intense negative emotions. Maybe that is why you are having such strange dreams, my friend. You have been through a lot in these past few weeks."

That had been months ago. I thought I got over those dreams. I thought I got over those dreams.

He's running. His legs are already burning, chest already tight, why did he have to have used all his energy on his panic attack? Is the monster still following him? Chase can't turn to check, and the blood in his veins is racing through his body faster than he's used to, his heart in his ears as he flies round a corner, barely able to catch a breath. This isn't real, he thinks. It's another nightmare. Please, this isn't real, this isn't -

And then something wet is snaking round his chest, pulsing in a way that makes Chase gag, and something sharp presses into the skin on his back and a burst of numbness runs over him like cold water, causing his body to go limp against the alien - because it is an alien, isn't it, he knew this already - behind him. Cold heaviness seeps through his veins, combatting the light weightlessness that the adrenaline was giving him. He tries to cough again, to speak as his lungs empty of air, but the alien only grips his arms tight enough to piece his skin with sharp claw-like fingers. A glance down at his chest, and he sees the tip of the bloodstained rod jutting through his skin. It doesn't really register. A light laugh escapes his lips, because it's funny, really, how he's about to die at the hands of a video game antagonist.

No, he's not about to die. This isn't real. It can't be, it's another bad dream, of course it is. But if it's not real, then what happened to Jack Mcloughlin and the others, all of those… all of…

The world spins.

And the world lights up in flames.

Chase had briefly forgotten about the lighter he'd picked up for support, and now he's putting it to good use; one flick of the switch and the alien is alight as though it had been soaked in gasoline, burning orange spreading across its suit, the crackling drowning out the monster's screeches. Its grip loosens on Chase's arms, and he pulls free, and the universe spins as the rod in his chest slips out like it's nothing, leaving a gaping emptiness in him. Please, he screams, in his mind or out loud, he doesn't know. Please. Please.

Please, wake me up.

-

White light. It floods the whole world, for just a moment, and then Chase's eyes are open and he is gasping for air, hands flying to his chest and feeling nothing but the soft material of his shirt, no pain except for the squeeze of his lungs as he coughs desperately into his sleeve. There are people surrounding him now; the police officers and armed guards from before, helping him sit up, holding a sick bucket in front of him as he throws up the little that's left in his stomach weakly, too much noise but nowhere near as bad as the silence of the Dawn Station. Nowhere near as bad as the hissing creaks of the Anti. Nowhere near as bad as his nightmare, because it was a nightmare, of course that wasn't real - nowhere near as bad as the nightmare that he'd thought was going to kill him.

I lived. I survived the night.

He's had this thought before, but this time, it's met with relief.

-

"You dreamed about the setting of a video game."

"Not just any video game. The, uh… the new Jack Mcloughlin game, Dawn Station. All the people who played the demo… died. I didn't die. The night I was supposed to, after all the others, I - I dreamed about the game. And the antagonist of the game. It's this, uh, this alien thing, in an astronaut suit. Tried to kill me. Apparently it's weak to fire, although I don't remember that from the actual game, maybe it was a secret that wasn't in the demo we were all sent, but I burned it, and it stabbed me, and I got away, not - not in that order. Does that… does that make sense, doctor?"

Dr. Ross scrutinizes Chase for a moment before turning his chair back to face his computer. The sound of his mouse clicking fills the room, off beat from the eternal clicking of the plain white clock on the plain white walls, decorated only with bookshelves and trays of medicines. Chase has never been in a more boring doctor's office. Usually his therapy sessions have more to look at, but this is a different therapist than he normally goes to, and all he can do is fidget with his hands on his lap and stare out the window at the

earth, the stars, the black abyss of emptiness that Chase could get lost in and never be found

setting sun through the trees just outside the building. The doctor's pen clicks, clicks, clicks. It sounds like the Anti's teeth, chattering against each other as it yawns, its maw opening wide enough for a head to be torn right off. Click, click, click. Chase closes his eyes, the repeating sounds like a mantra. He focuses on that instead. It grounds him.

"You have a history of nightmares."

Chase nods without looking. "I was prescribed triazolam by my first therapist. I took them for a year or so without changes except the lowering of doses a couple of times, because I was getting weaned off them. They helped. Nightmares didn't continue after that."

The other man nods slowly. "Hm. I can imagine the trauma of this recent event that you've been through was enough to bring these nightmares back to the forefront of your mind, especially given the contents of this dream in particular. We may have to ease you back onto medication over the course of your next few sessions here, which should be easier, given that it'll be a couple weeks before we send you home. Is that alright, Mr Brody?"

Click, click, click. Chase nods. Sunlight warms his face, and he sighs softly. "Sounds good, Dr. Ross. When will I be able to see my family?"

The man frowns, his forehead creasing. "Hopefully soon, although it will be slightly complicated, given the circumstances." A breath leaves him, and he tilts his head to the side slightly. His white collar digs into the fold of his neck. Chase keeps his eyes trained on that. "And these are strange circumstances, are they not?"

"They are," Chase mutters. He clenches his fists in his lap. "They are, yeah."

He should have died. He doesn't know why he didn't die. He doesn't even know what it was that killed the others. Really, the nightmare he'd had makes sense. It was easily written off as a traumatic event that had brought back old nightmares. Of course there was no way any of it had been real. That's ridiculous. Just ridiculous. He doesn't know why he's thinking that.

His hand trails down his shirt. Underneath, on the skin of his stomach, is a thick scar that hadn't been there before the nightmare he'd had. Right where the rod had pierced his stomach.

Coincidence. Coincidence.

"Do you have any other concerns, Mr Brody?"

"I don't believe so."

"Good."

Click. Click. Click.

[limenysnocket]

●The Blush Bet●

Pt. IV: The Do-Over

Summary: After finally getting his feelings out in the open, Taika decides that it's right about time that he takes (Y/N) out for a proper date. He calls it a do-over for the last one he took her on.

Request: @honorarytenenbaum

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol and quite a bit of car se- I mean, smut.

A/N: Hehehhh, I've had this idea in my head for the longest time. Peak Taika time, you guys. Drunk Taika time... Touchy feely Taika time... a bit of riding Taika time... OH, this is the last part, by the way. I'll stop bothering you with this story. Lol

●□■●□■●□■●□■●

You stared at the new dress in the mirror. Pure white, strappless, slits down both legs and a lovely, black belt around the waist. Taika outdid himself this time and, a lot like the bad date he took you on, he didn't tell you much about where you were going or what the night would entail, but you couldn't be any happier than you were now.

You smoothed out the bottom half of the dress and tucked a sweet little hair behind your ear. For once, you were happy to be dressed up by someone else. You couldn't help but be a little nervous, though. You were always so nervous before dates, even if you knew the guy pretty well. You just had a tendency of worrying about tripping over your heels or going to the bathroom then come out with the back of your dress tucked into your underwear. You had nothing to worry about this time, but you still worried.

Your phone suddenly went off and made you jump. You reached for it, a gentle smile on your face as you read the notification.

'I'm outside, darling. Hope you're just as excited as I am! ;)'

You giggle to yourself, tuck your phone in your handbag and take one last look at yourself, as if you thought there was a massive smudge in your makeup that could ruin your night. You put on a smile, fix a little uncomfortable place in your heel, did a little body wiggle and went to your door and opened it.

Your smile got wider. The man of the hour was standing right in front of you, dressed in a navy blue tux and a snow white rose in the breastpocket. His hand was holding yours, the moment he saw you and he brought you closer with just a simple beckoning tug.

"Your boyfriend must have wonderful tastes, because that dress looks absolutely amazing on you," Taika purred with a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Well, my boyfriend is pretty wonderful," you hummed back and softly tugged your hand away so you could wrap your arms around his neck. He set his hands on your waist and leaned down to press his lips against yours. Your bottom lip was encased in his and you felt his hands creep away from your waist, to your hips, then to your ass. You had to pull away from the kiss before he could do that, "No, no, sir. We can't do that yet. We still have a date."

Taika only half groaned, but you knew he didn't mind. He must have made one hell of a reservation if it even made him pass up the opportunity for sex.

"Your ride awaits you, madam and sir," you heard someone call from down on the curb and you leaned to look past Taika, who briefly moved to look with you.

"Holy shit-- You brought Robert too?" You smiled and looked up at Taika. He was grinning and biting his bottom lip slightly.

"Just wouldn't be the same without him. I'd miss him if I didn't let him drive tonight," Taika said, taking your hand in his and escorting you down to the curb.

"Good evening, miss!" Robert greeted you with a very bright smile and a tip of his cap.

"Robert, my lanta! You have no idea how great it is to see you!" You smiled right back at him. "Did you ever get together with that one woman you saw outside that restaurant?"

"I actually did," Robert smiled. "Never knew a chap like myself could get a date at my age! I'm actually going out with her, tonight, thanks to Mr. Waititi!"

"Oh, really now?" You cocked a brow and grinned over at your date who was casually and quietly enjoying the banter he wasn't involved in.

"Wanted him to have a little fun too, doll. I was gonna tell you, don't be surprised when we end with a new driver back home tonight," he smiled down at you and nudged you with his hip.

"Well, no time to waste! Your evening awaits you!" Robert bounced on his heels then opened the door. Luckily, it wasn't an old fart limo that you were riding in tonight. It was a sleek, black, luxurious Mercedes that he was taking you in tonight and you were extremely flattered with all the effort Taika was putting in for you. It almost turned you on... almost.

During the ride to the more rich side of town, Taika kept his hand on your thigh and gently rubbed every now and then. You would turn and give him a cheeky little grin and a wink. You knew he wanted a little something before he left for the night.

You expected to pass the big fancy restaurant that he had teased you in front of, but when you ended up parking right in front of it, you nearly got whiplash from how hard your head snapped in Taika's direction. "Pulling the same joke twice isn't funny, Waititi!" You pout, almost and he snickers.

"This isn't a joke! Richard, tell her this isn't a joke, so she'll believe me!" Taika said, almost in an exasperated tone.

Richard turned the car off and in a very merry voice he said, "It's not a joke, miss! He even showed me his online ticket to prove he had a reservation this time!"

You're face was expressionless for a very long while. It was like Ross whenever he found out he was the father of Rachel's baby.

"You promise this isn't a fib?" You ask the man next to you, quietly. Your lip was softly quivering.

"I have no reason to lie to you anymore," he said back with a very warm gaze and a matching smile. His fingers interlocked with yours and he brought it up to kiss the back of your hand again. Gosh, you loved it when he did that.

Richard eventually got the two of you out of the car, and you waved goodbye to him, side you wouldn't be seeing him after dinner. He told you that his date was waiting for him down the street, then waved you off as well to have your pleasant evening and pleasant dinner with Taika in the most expensive restaurant in the entirety of L.A.

You could practically smell the money on the people around you while they stuffed themselves fat on cash salads.

"I swear, if they end up taking us down to a sub-basement or something for people who want to think their eating rich, I'm going to flip my shit," you said teasingly while you secretly looked around at the sparkling chandeliers with much awe and admiration.

"I don't even think this place has a sub-basement, so you're in luck!" Taika laughed as he pulled you along, up to a waiter where he flashed him the reservation on his phone. The waiter, dressed in a deep red vest and black slacks, nodded at the confirmation, grabbed two menus then escorted you to your table, which just so happened to be on the second floor. Lucky you, you got to go through the little archway leading to the stairs, gayly dressed in evergreen leaves and electric lights.

As you sat down at your seat, you took the time to admire the place even more. The food made your stomach growl, the lighting cast upon Taika's face made your heart flutter and you were dressed ever so perfectly. Wow... just a week ago, you could have never imagined Taika doing something so lavish for you. Now, it felt like every act of kindness he did for you was a gift from the king, himself.

"Enjoying the scenery, darling?" You heard Taika say from across the table and it caught your attention in a flash.

"How can I not be?" You said, giving him a warm, wide smile. It made him melt, you could tell. The look he had made it easy to spot that he was falling deeper in love with you, right before your very eyes. He reached over for your hand and once he had it, he caressed it with his thumb. He continued to hold it while he spoke to you, all the way up until the scheduled bottle of wine arrived and the waiter was back to take your order...

○●■○●■○●■○●○

"I don't know about you, but that sirloin certainly stuffed me," Taika giggled at his own alliteration and you laughed along too, as he guided you back down the lavish stairs and back out the arch. Your arm was hooked around his, and while you both made your way out the building, you talked about whimsical story ideas that both of you brewed up together and wouldn't probably pull through with, but it was still so much fun to see what stirred within your collided imaginations. The real reason you were hanging off of each other is, because both of you happened to be quite wine drunk at the moment, and didn't care enough to notice.

You both reached the curb and were still bubbling away, since the Mercedes was running a tad slow, but all was well.

It eventually fell quiet between you two and your just stared into each other's eyes, exasperated with how much you both just shared with each other and taking a few moments to look back at the story you created. It was a mixture of feelings, jotting out in random directions, rough around the edges, but soft as an angel's wings. You couldn't be happier with it.

"Before we start taking notes," you said, laughing and tucking a stray strand if hair behind your ear, "I just want to say... I think this is the best date I've ever had. No, I'm not trying to inflate your ego, but... You deserve it this time. I'm proud of you, Tai, as weird as it is." You giggle at your own speech and lean in to kiss his forehead. Instead of his forehead, however, you come in contact with his lips instead, by his own devices.

He kissed you wantonly and almost needingly. You willingly fell prey to the kiss and slipped into a coma-like state where his lips were the only thing you needed to keep living. When you two parted, you panted and blushed immensely. You could taste the wine on his lips. You both had quite a few glasses, you'll admit...

His cheeks were a salmon color and his eyes were now glossed over, lips the lightly stained with your lipstick. You found yourself blushing even more at the sight. "So," you said with a hiccup resonating in your chest, "my place or yours?"

"Oh, sweetheart, I don't think we're even going to make it to either of those places," he smirked down at you and bit his lip. You gulped, because the sleek Mercedes pulled up right next to the two of you and a brand new driver hopped out and opened the door.

Taika pressed a feather light hand on your back and guided you into the backseat of the car. You could have sworn you felt his hand hovering over your ass at some point in time.

Once the two of you were in the car and the door was shut, it was all dark and very quiet, except for the slow breathing of you and the other two people in the car and the quiet radio, turned to an oldies station.

Your heart rate seemed to increase. You felt Taika's hand slither over to the slit in the leg of your dress and he quietly felt around it, until he slipped his hand completely under it. You said nothing, but you couldn't help but reach for his sleeve, encouraging him on. If this was going to happen, you needed to remain quiet.

He teased you for the longest time as the car creeped through slow traffic. He didn't start getting down on you until you had reached the first stoplight of what you might say be fourteen or so on.

His fingers teased your clit through your damp panties and he rubbed the cloth in slow circles. You had to bury your face into his arm to stop yourself from begging him for more. He suddenly nipped the shell of your ear to make your breath hitch and he chuckled, "Such a good girl~, being all quiet for daddy~." His other hand has now joined the games and started to grip and massage your warm thigh.

Taika continued to drive you insane by teasing the hem of your panties, not knowing if he should mess with the real thing or not. He wanted to be patient, Taika did... but Drunk-Taika was never a man of patience, as far as Taika, himself, knew.

You were so close to moaning, biting down on Taika's sleeve, whenever he suddenly yanked both of his hands away from you, leaving you a horny mess, beside him. You looked up at him in the dark, confused and a little upset, but he said nothing and waited until the next stoplight.

The car peeled into a stop, slowly, behind other cars. Taika made quick work of unbuckling both your and his seatbelts. Now, you were curious.

Taika dug around in his wallet for a moment, pulled out a couple hundreds and leaned forward so his head poked up right beside the driver, who was startled by the encounter. "I'm going to pay you a very big tip," Taika said to the driver in a very low, husky voice, "and you're going to let me fuck my girlfriend in the back seat. How does that sound?" Taika waved the large sum of cash in front of the man's face. You heard the driver gulp, then you saw him nod through the faint blackness.

"Good man," Taika chuckled deeply and set the cash down in the cup holder. "If I catch you looking back, it's getting taken away." Taika warned him, but didn't warn you as he sat back down and grabbed you by the hips as the car started to move again. He sat you on his lap and he nearly ripped the zipper on the back of your dress down, then tore the entire thing off of you.

"Told you we wouldn't make it~," Taika growled seductively and it made your walls really start to soak as he licked his chops like a feral dog, right in front of you.

"T-Taika~," you breathed softly by his ear, so he would be the only one to hear it.

"Always so shy in the beginning," Taika sighed and, yet again, without another warning, he smacked your ass, making you yelp. "What's the name I go by, when we fuck, doll~? I want to hear you say it."

"D-Daddy~," you moaned a little louder this time, so you didn't have to whisper.

"Good girl~," Taika smirked within the darkness. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours and this kiss was much more feral than the last one you received from him. He bit your bottom lip and tugged at it, his nails scraped across your thighs and he shoved his tongue down your throat. He was holding nothing back with you and it made you desperately moan. It was surprising that even the driver wasn't leapfrogging the car all over the place and was managing to keep his cool amidst the sinful sounds you made with only your mouth.

You felt Taika's hand creep up your thigh and to the hem of your panties again. Instead of just tugging them down, he decided to be slow and push them down, all the while feeling up the newly revealed skin.

His lips departed from yours, so you could breathe and also so he could start leaving deep hickeys all across your skin. "You're daddy's little slut, aren't you~? You and that soaked pussy, all just for me~?" He growled and bit harder, causing you to moan out and shake. Upon getting no real response, he grunted and slapped your ass again with his rough palm. "You better answer me, babe~. Otherwise, this can go on all night long~."

You gulped and finally found enough consciousness to nod. "Yes, daddy~," you moaned and you could practically feel the driver shuddering in the front seat.

Taika's strong erection poked at your thigh and he bucked against it from time to time. "Wanna go for a ride baby~?" He purrs to you, against your ear once more once your panties are all the way off and his other hand occupies itself with unclipping your strapless bra, just so he can see your breasts bounce whenever you start your ride.

You nod eagerly and quickly go after his belt, the drool only making your neediness all the more crystal clear. He lets you do your thing, smirking and watching you as you go after his cock like a wild animal. You eventually get his pants down low enough to where his cock springs free and you manage to tear off his suit jacket and tie in the process.

He gripped onto your hips and started guiding you down to his tip whenever the case came to another stop.

"W-We're here, sir..." the man mumbled from the frontseat, quivering, worried about what he just interrupted. Your turned your head to see that the car was now pulled into Taika's driveway. You were disappointed for a moment and a moment only, until Taika grabbed your chin and forced it to face him so you were making intense eye contact with him again.

"Drive." Taika said, his eyes still locked onto yours.

"What?" The man said, nearly forgetting his oath to not turn around and see the scene playing out in the backseat.

"Drive. Around the block or some shit... this won't take me long," Taika growled again, this time harsher. Your throbbing cunt was waiting for him, so you didn't mind. The driver took a moment to register everything before nodding and getting back out on the road again.

The moment the car started to move, Taika's grip intensified, then, he no longer hesitated to let you hover. He full fledged slammed you down on him and you let out your most sinful moan yet of his nickname.

"Yeah~. You like bouncing on daddy's cock, don't you~?" He growled and made you start moving, just to get you going. Once you were at a pace both you and him liked, he slipped his hands from your hips and to your ass, sinking his nails into the soft flesh while the two of you made love in the back of the car. He slapped your ass a couple times. Sometimes, to the point where it was almost beat red. It may have been, if you could see the color through all of the inky blackness surrounding the two of you.

"Fuck~, you're a fucking goddess~," Taika hissed through bared teeth, "Such a tight pussy~. God fucking damn it~."

His sultry moans started to match yours as time passed by and by. Loud, wet slaps of skin on skin and the sounds of your dirty panting filled the car with nothing but disgusting nature. Your hands gripped his shoulders as you were almost positive the back half of the car started to rock beneath the intense amount of force.

"Taika~ You're cock is so fucking perfect~. Fuck~!" You cried out, burying your face in his neck, only to be tugged away by a tough grip on your hair. You hissed, but you went quiet as you looked into Taika's brown eyes that stared into your soul, that dominated you, that owned you and that tight little pussy of yours. All of it was his and he was about to make it cum.

"T-Taika~. I don't know how much longer I can hold~," you moan in his ear as your bouncing becomes a little desperate and a lot rougher, to the point where Taika puts his hands back on your hips to control the wavering speed.

"Beg for it~," Taika said lowly. You could tell he was close too, by the familiar pattern it he pulsation of his cock.

"Please, daddy~. I want this, I need this~. Please, let me cum all over your fucking perfect cock~," you begged him with whatever strength you had left in your body.

"Cum for me," Taika said after a long overdue stare at your bouncing breasts, "do it right fucking now~."

His command was fulfilled in the next few seconds. He felt your juices squirt all down your thighs and a little dribbled onto his pants, but that was alright. He didn't mind one bit.

Now, it was his turn to make his thrusts turn reckless and violent. He shoved himself up into you, panting and moaning your name while he got you over the hills of your scream-filled orgasm. "Where do you want me to cum, doll~?" He growled during the last remaining seconds of his powerful fucking.

"In me~," You begged, wanting to feel him fill you up like the slut you are this time, and you were glad to see that he was happy to oblige. The next thing you knew, you felt strings of hot seed filling your walls and painting you white. That whiteness seeped down your thighs and dripped onto the car seat. The hot stink of sex filled the car and it got to the point where the driver cracked a window, once you two were finished.

Hot damn... you're going to have to make bets with Taika more often...

[suca-loca]

slip of the tongue.

Pairing: Anxceit (Virgil/Janus)

Tags: Sympathetic!Janus, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: It was supposed to be a quick phone call. They found out Patton got a promotion - from a Facebook post of all things - so of course, they called to congratulate him. Had Damien known he’d end the call with “See you at Christmas, Dad” he would have just congratulated him in the comments.

Author’s Note: I completed this a week before Deceit’s name was revealed so... oops. That’s why he’s named Damien in this fic. Also, the Eleanor and Park book is kinda problematic. The quote I reference here really touched me during a hard time which is why I used it, although I do not recommend reading it because the representation is b l e g h .

————

“Holy shit.”

Damien hides his face in his hands.

“Holy. Shit.”

A sound eerily similar to that of a dying bear leaves Damien’s mouth.

Virgil laughs. He doesn’t even try to hide it. He explodes like a shaken Coca Cola can until he’s nothing but a mess of overflowing tears and fizzling out snorts.

Beside him on the couch, Damien grabs one of the pillows. “Oh, how I adore seeing you enjoy yourself over me acting like a fool,” he grumbles as he smacks it over Virgil’s head. “It really shows how great of a boyfriend you are.”

Virgil, unable to speak - because he’s currently bent over, clutching at his sides - responds with two middle fingers.

Damien reaches for the last remaining couch pillow.

“No!” Virgil somehow wheezes out, the terror in his voice terribly contrasting against the grin on his face. “I’ll stop! I’ll stop!”

Damien doesn’t believe him. He throws it without mercy.

He was right to see through Virgil’s lie because two minutes pass before Virgil finally gets it out of his system. All the while Damien waits at the opposite end of the couch, watching with a pout as his boyfriend begins to crawl towards him.

“That-“ Virgil wipes away one last tear from his eye - “was beautiful. Truly the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life. I would love to see it on the big screen, looping for ten hours.”

Damien gives him a (totally real) disgusted look as a kiss is pressed against his cheek. “You are insufferable.”

“Is that why you made my pancakes this morning in the shape of hearts?”

“You’re totally right! Next time I won’t go through the trouble of making the pancakes into different shapes. I’ll just poison them.”

Virgil chuckles.

“Don’t you start again!” Damien groans, looking like he wants the couch to become quicksand and swallow him up. “I’ll get up and grab the pillows from the floor. Watch me.”

“Sorry,” Virgil says in a tone that is definitely not at all sorry. “It’s just...You just called my dad, Dad. That’s, like, better than when you said you loved me for the first time.”

It was supposed to be a quick phone call. They found out Patton got a promotion - from a Facebook post of all things - so of course, they called to congratulate him. Had Damien known he’d end the call with “See you at Christmas, Dad” he would have just congratulated him in the comments.

Damien watches in horror as he sees Virgil’s shoulders begin to shake as the memory comes back to him.

“It wasn’t a slip of the tongue if you consider the circumstances!” He cries out, desperately not wanting to sit through another one of Virgil’s cackling.

He only realizes what he said when Virgil’s dimples disappear and are replaced with a curious look.

“Oh?” Virgil coos, smirking in the same way that made Damien fall in love with him all those years ago. “Care to explain what these circumstances are, D?”

Damien fiddles with the hem of his pajama shirt. He’s blushing.

“Well,” he inhales sharply, suddenly acting so small and nervous in a way Virgil has never seen from him in the four years they’ve known each other. “I should get used to calling him dad since he’ll become my father-in-law.”

Virgil stills. “What?”

Deceit stands up, only to then drop to one knee.

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to inhale sharply.

“Virgil Hart,” Damien looks up at him with clear adoration and a voice oozing with love from just those two words, “Years ago, for some odd - and very stupid - reason you risked sitting in a jail cell for a guy you didn’t know.”

Virgil blushes, the day they met coming back to him in pieces. He remembers sneaking out of his college dorm room past curfew to join a protest. Remembers how the protest turned south as sirens could be heard ten blocks down. Remembers the adrenaline that passed through him as he chucked an egg at one of the cops who was in the middle of arresting some guy. Remembers the adrenaline being replaced with fear as the cop charged at him, only to then be pulled down the street by the same man he rescued.

Remembers the two of them hiding in a thrift shop that sold dildos and smelled too much like weed. Remembers learning the man’s name was Damien from the slip of paper handed to him with a phone number. Remembers getting caught sneaking back into his dorm room and not even caring as the principal shouted at him because he was too busy thinking about what a great runner Damien was. He also remembers thinking how great it was to run behind Damien.

“And now,” Damien says as he presses a kiss against Virgil’s hand, “because of your lack of control that day, we sit here in this apartment that we share. With plates still in the sink that is your turn to wash, with two cats I gifted Patton curled up on our beds because you never told me he was allergic and with the insides of my favorite sweaters smudged with black lipstick because no matter where I hide them you always find them,

But, I wouldn’t change it for the world. Which I now realize, given my moral compass, doesn’t say much, so let me rephrase; I wouldn’t change it even if it meant I had to delete all my eat the rich tweets. I didn’t realize it then, but I fell in love with you the moment I heard that egg crack against the cop's helmet. I only continued to fall more in love with you as you sent me memes past midnight and the way you scrunch up your face every time someone admits to never reading one of Edgar Allan Poe’s work. You are an inspiration to me and I hope that you remain only my inspiration. Which is why, Virgil Hart, I ask you today...”

Damien slips out a ring. It’s all black, except for the purple jewel at the center, decorated with petals curling to where the diamond sits.

“Will you marry me?”

Virgil blinks.

“There’s cheeto dust on the hoodie I’m wearing.”

Damien raises an eyebrow. “Excellent observation skills.”

“Our cats’ assholes combined are in a better state than my hair right now,” Virgil continues.

“Thank you for the mental image.”

“I gained ten pounds this week!”

“I was wondering why our cuddling sessions felt better.”

“I’m pretty sure my breath smells like Remus’ room.”

“I’m well aware. I kissed you good morning, remember?”

“Then why the fuck do you still have the ring out?!” Virgil huffs, pulling his hands away. He gestures to himself. “Do I look like a picture-worthy fiancé?”

Damien raises an eyebrow. “So what you’re saying is… I should propose after you’ve taken a shower?”

“No!”

Virgil yanks his hands away. He does it so hard Damien is surprised the other doesn’t send him flying backwards. His temper flares and his mouth snaps open to say something snarky, but it shuts when his eyes fall on the emo’s face.

Sad isn’t the right word to use. It’s devastation. Even with Virgil burying his face against the knees hugged to his chest Damien can see how hard his lips wobble and the way his eyes blink rapidly against the incoming of tears.

“Why can’t you see I’m not worthy to be a fiancé?” He croaks, voice going weaker towards the end. “Much less yours?”

Damien wastes no time cradling Virgil’s face in his hands. He rubs the pad of his thumb against Virgil’s left cheek, knowing it’ll help calm him down.

“Eleanor was right,” he begins, voice softer than the most expensive silk money could buy. “She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice. It was supposed to make you feel something.”

Virgil’s breath hitches. “Eleanor and Park, chapter 28, page 165. My favorite quote.”

Damien clicks his tongue. “And yet the message escapes you. You’re not stupid, mi vida. So stop acting like it. You’re too good to fall for society's expectations of beauty.”

Virgil looks ready to interject, but Damien keeps going.

“When I bought this ring it wasn’t because I thought every angle was your best angle. It wasn’t because you lack fewer fat rolls than other people. It was because of how you showed up at my door with my favorite movie and snacks after I got a bad grade on an exam. It’s because of how you headbang and jump around the living room every time I put The Crow soundtrack on when we clean.”

Damien brushes Virgil’s bangs to the side. He presses a kiss against his boyfriend’s forehead. Virgil is quiet through all of this.

“And most importantly, it’s because whenever I picture myself happy it’s with you.”

A sob breaks through the silence. Tears, big fat crocodile ones, pour down Virgil’s face. For a second Damien thinks he said something wrong, but then Virgil swoops down to capture his lips in a kiss.

There’s nothing soft about it. Not even three seconds in and Virgil’s hand tugs at his long locks, making Damien see stars. Somehow he’s able to break through the daze and wrap his arms around Virgil’s back, pulling him close until there’s no space between them.

Besides the occasional growl and groan, there’s just the sound of their heavy breathing whenever they disconnect for a few seconds and then continue where they left off. Virgil plays dirty by wrapping his legs around the other’s waist, so Damien retaliates by biting at his lips.

When they break apart, eyes half-lidded and hands still wandering, they smile at one another.

“Brilliant idea,” Damien breaks the silence first, voice rough like sandpaper. “Kissing me while you’re crying. Now all I can taste is salt - ow!”

Damien rubs the spot where Virgil threw a pillow at him. All the while Virgil sticks out the same tongue just shoved down his throat a second ago.

“Well played,” Damien grumbles.

Virgil shrugs. “It was either the pillow or not saying yes.”

“Truly, what a difficult decision. Me versus your fragile pride.”

“Shut up and give me the ring before I hit you twice.”

Damien rolls his eyes, but there’s fondness behind them as he slips the ring on. All the while Virgil is smiling so wide and so hard he doesn’t know how his face doesn’t crack from the pressure.

Virgil knows for a fact that his eyes are puffy, that his nose is running and that his face is the same color as a cherry. But he doesn’t care. All he can focus on is the man in front of him, with his beautiful mind and a stunning smile currently aimed (and from now on always will be) only at him.

“I love you.”

Damien doesn’t hesitate. “I love you too.”

Damien watches with love in his eyes as Virgil’s eyes crinkle around the corners.

He then watches with confusion as Virgil pulls out his phone.

“Oh no,” Damien groans, “don’t tell me you’re going to tell your Tumblr followers the news first.”

“First off, fuck you. You’re just sour over the fact that Remus was the first person I told about my Tumblr account. Secondly,” Virgil puts the phone to his ear. “No, I’m not.”

The person on the other end of the line picks up on the first ring.

“Kiddo, I was hoping you’d call back! Tell Damien I don’t mind what he said. I take it as a compliment, truly!”

Virgil smiles. “I’ll do you one better. How about I give you the phone to talk to him yourself?”

He hands the phone over.

Damien, once again, doesn’t hesitate.

“Good morning, father-in-law.”

[gingerteaonthetardis]

Hardy showing Rose his rarely seen soft, sweet, romantic side!! (And showing off his expert kissing skills???)

a bit of romance for you, anon! (and thank you for this prompt. i needed some hardy brand tenderness tonight.)

read on ao3

-

𝕎𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤

-

It’s worth mentioning that she didn’t intend to fall in love with him.

It’s equally important to address the—well, the issue of his face. That had nothing to do with it.

It was really more of the… everything else.

-

“Ms. Tyler, there’s someone in your office—”

“Shit.”

Rose ran clammy hands over her button-down, smoothing away nonexistent wrinkles and wondering if her lipstick had smudged at lunch. It would serve her right, really, for eating cup noodles instead of something from Torchwood’s perfectly lovely salad bar. 

Her expletive seemed to catch Amy off guard, and her PA’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “He didn’t have an appointment, but he says he’s the liaison from the—”

“Yes, the Metropolitan Police Service,” Rose finished for her. That was a front. She eyed her office door—closed, nothing visible through the frosted glass—as though it were a live bomb.

Actually, live bombs made her less anxious. She had a tolerably good track record at disarming them.

“Should I escort him out?” Amy asked, voice low and conspiratorial.

“What? No!” She must’ve looked properly nervous, then. Rose took a steadying breath and tried to smile. “That’s Hardy.”

Amy once again boggled, hazel eyes round as salad plates. 

God, why didn’t I go for the salad? “Is my lippy smudged?”

“No, you look perfect. But—the Hardy?”

Rose just nodded. That was one way of describing him. “I haven’t seen him since before the last case. I think… he’s surprising me?”

Amy did her best to stifle a grin, but still looked immensely pleased as she whispered, “He was carrying a bag…” Her non-smile widened. “It smelled like chips.”

“Now I really wish I’d skipped the cup noodles,” Rose sighed wistfully. But still, with a final wink from her PA, she straightened her shoulders and determined not to chew all traces of color off her lips, stretching them instead into a tight smile. She entered her office looking every inch like the most powerful woman at Torchwood.

-

Hardy stood at the far window, looking out over the city traffic, hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets—something he did when he was thinking. On her desk sat his little brown bag of probably-chips, radiating the heavenly—and verifying—scent of salt and starch. Before she could say anything, or so much as close the door behind her, he was already turning, his mouth screwed up in a familiar frown. It was almost a scowl. 

For a long time, that very expression had made her unspeakably nervous, but now, she was just pleased to see it. To see any expression at all, on that familiar face. She gave a little grin and a wave.

“Hi.”

“You’ve already had lunch, haven’t you?”

“How'd you guess?" she asked, walking deliberately around her desk, and if her hips swayed a bit more than usual—well, she could hardly be blamed. But Hardy simply shifted his weight and frowned at the greasy takeaway bag like it had done something to him.

"I got held up at the chippie."

"That's all right." She sank down against the edge of her desk, waiting for him to approach. That was the thing about Hardy. He was skittish—sort of feral, most days. It was best to let him come to her. "I do love that you think chips constitute a proper lunch," she added with a tongue-touched smile. "Man after my own heart."

At that, his frown began to fade. "And I'm sure your meal was much healthier. What'd you have? Packet of crisps? Three cups of coffee?" 

She bit down her grin. "Cup noodles."

"Ah, sodium. The foundation of any proper meal."

"On that, we can agree."

“My cardiologist would not.” He was closer now, looming over her with all the advantage of his height, his brogue rolling through her like a current. A few more words and he’d probably have her pinned against the desk. Not that she was complaining. He smelled like reams of paper and tea with cream and she wanted to pull him close, close enough to snog the lingering frown right off his lips. 

But instead, she shrugged, like nothing in the world could bother her. “Guess it’s a good thing they’re for me.”

He stepped closer. “You’ve no intention to share, then?” The air around her started to feel heavy, thick with that unique tension. She’d felt it the first day they’d met—to her horror, at the time—and hadn’t been able to shake it since. But maybe that was just the touch-and-go nature of their relationship. 

After that initial case, when they’d crashed together like two asteroids out of orbit, they hadn’t ever been in the same place for more than a few hours at a time, always passing like ships in the night. Then she’d taken over for Pete, and Hardy had gotten promoted to a special hush-hush department, and their working relationship had been forced to take priority, allowing no resolution to the tension that had built, no outlet for the pressure. They just met for occasional lunches and meetings and exchanged polite handshakes. 

Maybe a kiss, if someone lost their head a bit.

Alright, maybe a few kisses.

But it had all been strangely disconnected and Rose, used to the live-in relationship she’d once shared with the Doctor all those years ago, was left in a constant state of limbo. Unable to grow past the butterfly-bellied first stages of feeling, left constantly wanting something that she couldn’t quite have.

And now, he was here.

Back. Back in her office, with chips.

Was he back for good?

She realized she hadn’t answered him—hadn’t said anything at all. She’d hardly been breathing. Just staring up at him, jaw hanging open. She forced her mouth shut and blinked away the fog that had gathered at the edges of her vision, framing him with afternoon glow and setting aflame the scattered strands of copper in his hair. “No,” she said softly, eyes skimming the freckles over his nose, and the corner of his mouth which seemed like it was just beginning to twitch. In fact, he looked quite amused by her lapse in concentration. She cleared her throat. “They’re all mine.”

At that, his lips really curved. Just faintly, but enough to give him away. “It’s good to see you, Rose,” he said softly. And Rose shivered at the way he said her name, the way the consonants lingered around the edges, the deep dark flavor of the vowel. Nobody else said it the way he did, and she felt it all the way down to her toes.

“You, too. Are you… back?”

His fledgling smile only widened. And he nodded. “I think so.” His hands dropped down to her desk—trapping her or framing her, she couldn’t say. It felt good, though. Right in a way that she rarely felt in this universe. Like time had slowed to the proper pace, and she could finally make sense of the world around her.

She pressed her lips together, but joy still slipped out at the edges. 

“Good,” she pronounced. “I missed you.”

It was amazing, the way his whole expression softened. The residual tension in his jaw gave way, his brown eyes crinkled faintly at the edges—he looked happy. Actually, properly happy. Once, that look had reminded her of another man, someone so important that she’d spent years beating against the bounds of her universe to get back to him. And that fight had brought her so far: through the ranks of Torchwood, to the mission with Hardy, to the office where she stood right now, with these two arms around her.

She’d looked at him once and seen a ghost from her aching past.

Now she just saw—she hoped she saw—her future.

“I missed you, too,” Hardy rasped. The wood creaked under his hands. He swallowed, and took a long, slow blink. When his eyes opened again, they were determined. “I don’t know—it’s stupid… Rose, I always miss you when I’m gone.” And his words—so sweet, so soft and unexpected—were swiftly followed by a searing kiss, bowing her head back so she had to grip him for balance, arms sliding up around his neck to tangle in the hair at the nape. She tasted strong tea, steeped to bitterness and sweetened with cream. The dichotomy of Alec Hardy.

His mouth over hers was heavy, stealing away all the air in the room until she felt like she was floating—weightless.

When she pried herself away, gasping for precious oxygen, she panted out, “How long can you stay?” She didn’t know what she was asking, exactly. About his stay in London? This lunch visit? How long he wanted to stay with her?

But Hardy just smiled, his thumb curving over the edge of her eyebrow and across the apple of her—no doubt quite pink—cheeks. Softly calloused, deliciously warm. Her stomach dropped at the look in his eyes.

“As long as you want me.” 

And then he kissed her back to weightlessness. 

And with the weight of his body, the soft pressure of his hands, he dragged her back to earth.

[saltybaltic]

Natasha Romanoff X Reader -TROPE MINI SERIES

7 MINUTES IN HEAVEN

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow X FemReader Fanfic

Synopsis: Part of the Fanfic Trope Mini Series. Reader insert with Natasha Romanoff using a good old fashioned, over used, over worked trope. First up: Seven Minutes in Heaven

Warnings: mild references of smut (lmao what even is mild anymore) language

Words: 973

“And it looks like our newest member of the team is getting cosy with ...”

You could already feel the anxiety rising in the pit of your stomach as Tony trailed off with a grin and dipped his hand into the bowl of folded slips of paper to pick out another name. Your heart had started to thud uncomfortably in your chest the second your name had been read aloud, but after a few seconds to actually digest what could be about to happen, you were now verging on a full blown panic attack. Irritation was making itself known in the back of your mind at the stupidity of the whole thing; a group of grown adults, superheroes and agents sat around at the end of a party, a little worse for wear and playing a game as juvenile as Seven Minutes in heaven. But you could barely focus on that as Tony selected a piece of paper from the bowl and started to unfold it. His shit eating grin only increased as he scanned the name before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it in the general direction of the trash can.

“Well?!” After several seconds of silence, it was Clint who spoke first.

Tony glanced at you with an amused smile before he shrugged and gestured towards the woman on his right, “It’s our very own Agent Romanoff.”

Nearly everyone broke out into the same grin as Tony, a few people murmuring to one another or exchanging a nudge of the elbow.

Your palms were actually sweating now and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the shock that was making you dizzy. You were brought back to what was happening as you heard a whistle.

“Someone’s eager.”

At Sam’s words you looked around to see Natasha rising to her feet, not even glancing in your direction as she made her way towards the supply cupboard at the back of the room that was being used for the ‘game’.

“Go on new girl.” Teased Clint, shoving you in the arm playfully.

Swallowing down your nerves, you slowly stood from your chair, downing the rest of your drink for good measure before following after the red head towards the back of the room.

“Seven minutes starts when that door closes!”

Was the last thing you heard before you stepped into the cupboard and Natasha abruptly slammed the door closed behind you. For a few moments neither of you spoke or even looked at one another, eyes trained to the ground as you tried to think of anything that would be appropriate to say or do. The silence quickly became unbareable,

“Look we should probably talk anyway.”

At your sentence she slowly looked up from the ground to meet your eye, her brow arching in a way that made her look more intimidating than you would have liked, “Oh now you want to talk, when you’re literally locked in a cupboard with me.”

“Nat, it’s not that easy okay? I’m new here, I’m still figuring stuff out and working this out was just an added complication I didn’t need.”

Pursing her lips, Natasha looked up at the ceiling for a second and slowly pushed out a breath before looking back at you, “I’m sorry, I’m confused. Is this you trying to make things worse or make things better because honestly I can’t tell.”

“Obviously I want to make this better.”

“You just referred to me as a complication you don’t need, kinda hard to see a silver lining in that.”

Huffing out a frustrated breath, you took a step towards the other woman, “Figuring out how I feel about you was a complication. I didn’t exactly plan on this happening.”

“Sorry to throw a spanner in the works.” Muttered Natasha quietly, folding her arms across her chest.

Daring another step towards Natasha, you were now close enough in the tiny closet that you could raise an arm and rest your hand on the wall beside her head. She watched you with interest, eyes trained on your every move as you moved a little closer so your body was almost pressed to hers.

“Just because it’s complicated, doesn’t mean I’m not glad it’s happened.”

As you moved even closer, you rested your other hand on her waist, leaning in towards her so that your face was just an inch from her own.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “What are you doing?”

“Come on, it’s the rules of the game, we’ve gotta at least make out a little.”

Biting down on her lip to try and hide a smile, Natasha conceded a little and unfolded her arms so you could move a little closer, “Last time I kissed you, I seem to remember you telling me ‘you needed some time to figure things out’. Don’t you?”

“Well I figured out that I like you and if it’s alright with you, I’d quite like to kiss you back now.” You moved your hand from the wall to rest on the side of her neck, your thumb grazing the side of her jaw.

“Pretty sure we’ve only got a couple of minutes left now.” stated Natasha quietly, eyes drifting down to your lips as you closed the gap even further.

“I better get a move on then.”

Slipping your hand to the back of her neck, you tugged her towards you gently so that you were able to attach your lips to hers in a heated kiss. Even after drinking Tony’s liquor cabinet dry all evening she tasted amazing and you pretty much fell to pieces then and there as she released a moan into your mouth. Your contact was getting heavier and more demanding with each passing second, her hands moving to grab at your shirt and pull you flush against her. She had one foot resting against the wall behind her, leg bent at the knee and against your side in a way that made it all too easy to grip her waist and press your thigh against her pussy.

Slipping her tongue from your mouth, she snagged your lower lip between her teeth in a failed attempt to suppress a moan as she rocked her hips against your thigh and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through her again.

You laughed quietly at her desperate action, one hand tightening your hold on her waist as the other moved to cup her jaw. In the short dress Natasha was wearing and only the thin lace panties between her body and yours, you could already feel how wet she was and it was making all other thoughts than fucking her up against the wall then and there leave your head, even if it was in a ridiculous game from high school.

Lowering your other hand to her waist as well, you held both of her hips in place as you guided them down with a push of your thigh into her. She gripped your shirt tighter as her eyes fell closed and she let out a low groan at your action. Natasha was certainly on board with your opinion that the direction the evening had taken was nothing short of idiotic but she couldn’t deny that she was enjoying her current predicament trapped between the wall and your body immensely.

“More.” Mumbled Natasha against your mouth, torn between continuing to kiss you and verbalising what she wanted, “Do it again.”

You weren’t given a chance to reply as her hand moved to the back of your head and she eagerly reattached your lips. However it seemed in this scenario that actions would speak louder than words and simply chose to do as she had asked, pulling her into you again as she rocked her hips harder against you. Natasha couldn’t get enough and was only able to moan in satisfaction into your mouth, the thin material of her panties combined with the texture of your jeans creating a friction that was making her toes curl. She was positive she must have soaked through your clothing by now and you would definitely be able to feel just how turned on she was against your thigh, not that she minded if it meant you kept grinding into her and kissing her hard.

You wanted to cry out in frustration as just as Natasha sucked your tongue into her mouth in an attempt to silence a moan, the dry click of the lock echoed throughout the cupboard and the door opened.

Acting quickly, Natasha had abruptly stood up straight from the wall and you had taken an equally hasty step back to put some distance between the pair of you. Not that it mattered as your messed up hair and crumpled shirt combined with Natasha’s smudged lipstick and hiked up dress said enough already.

“I told you!” Shouted Tony victoriously, turning away from you and Natasha for a second to grin back at the rest of the team, “I told you they’d be getting it on!”

You were distracted by Tony’s outburst momentarily but your eyes drifted back to Natasha as you felt her lean into you and set her lips beside your ear before speaking quietly, “To be continued.”

She shot you a quick smirk before side stepping around you and making her way out of the cupboard, giving Tony an amused pat on the chest on her way out.

“You all owe me ten dollars.” Announced Tony, earning him a collective groan as everyone dipped into their pockets.

As much as you had to admit your initial distaste for a game as stupid as Seven Minutes in Heaven, the only fault you were able to find with it now, was that seven minutes wasn’t nearly long enough.