#and the past weeks making one Act per day

[cepheusgalaxy]

Yea I'm making a fucking play script

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa��s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, noncon, somnophilia

follow up to this part one

gn reader

Yeah, he kidnaps you within the same day…

He knows it isn’t inherently right, but he can justify it! You see, if anyone else were to find out your technique, you’d be in a lot of trouble—and by trouble, he means certain death or worse.

You’re a paradox. If he’d reported his find to the elders, they’d surely have sent assassins, given how terrified they are of the unknown—and you’re worse than an unknown—you’re a threat to jujutsu’s very foundation. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d make weapons out of your body until nothing was left of you—just think about it—a bullet made from your flesh would have the instant power to disintegrate a curse on the spot. Or worse, they’d keep you alive and locked up somewhere, feeding you only to drain you of a dozen blood bags per day—like a farm.

Yes, this was better for you—with no one knowing of your existence except him. He’s the only one who can keep you safe.

Of course, you think he’s crazy. And he doesn’t blame you. You were just abducted by a stranger in the streets who not only insists that you’re an anomaly but wears a blindfold and claims to be a wizard out to protect you from people who would harvest your blood. Yeah, he wouldn’t believe him either.

The whole situation is messy, but at least you’re alive.

He gives you your own room. Of course, he’s not out to make you uncomfortable. You have your own room, bed, and bathroom, which is where you spend most of your time.

He can’t blame you for that, either. He won’t force you to spend time with him even though he wants to. But he’s not entirely innocent either—watching you through the cameras in the ceiling. It’s funny, but even on tape, you’re crystal clear. It’s calming to watch. Everything else makes his eyes hurt, hence the blindfold—but even that is but a dull salve. You’re the cure.

You warm up to him after a month or so. You come out of your room. He can tell you’re looking for weak spots to escape from, but you won’t find any. He’s gotten better at reading you now—having busied himself learning the language of your body looking at you without your knowledge. He only feels slightly guilty about it.

He can’t stop thinking about touching you, though. It really doesn’t have to be much—he’s never really been much of a playboy, despite people’s assumptions. Women and men have never been all that appealing when what he sees is everything they’re trying to hide. Though he has tried it a few times, he usually just takes care of it on his own if he needs to.

He's needed to a lot in the past weeks. But he promises himself he won’t force you into anything. That wouldn’t be fair.

You start talking to him another month later—actual conversations aside from the usual swearing or claims to let you go. No, you begin asking questions about the jujutsu world. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re curious or seeking information that might aid in your escape or if it’s simply a ploy to lower his guard, but it’s clear you still think he’s delusional. Either way, he doesn’t mind humoring you. He even tries demonstrating limitless for you, holding different objects as well as himself midair—but you seem convinced he’s just some talented crook. You’ve seen more compelling magic acts before, you say. He laughs.

He'd show you something more convincing, but you can’t see cursed spirits even with special glasses as the curse imbued into the lenses disrupts the moment you put them on, so to you, it’s the same as wearing fakes. In a way, curses don’t exist in your world. He’s tested it out a few times—simple flyheads, just to see what happens, and wow… It’s actually kind of scary how they just crumble upon contact with you—no residuals or anything left to prove that they were ever even there.

The only way to prove it to you would be to let someone else get mangled in front of you. Of course, it would only look like a body getting warped beyond recognition by the air—but he’s sure at that point, you’d no longer be able to assign normal logic to it. Not that he’s going to do any of that. He doesn’t really need you to believe him after all. It wouldn’t change anything. In fact, he prefers you don’t know. The jujutsu world is an ugly one—he doesn’t mind sheltering you from it.

Another four months in, and you’ve gotten comfortable. Well, it’s been half a year, so it’s taken its time, but still, he’s happy to have gotten there. You’re at the point where you ask him for things unrestricted—hobby stuff like books and paints and groceries. 

You’d taken to baking and cooking rather early on, which was great as his kitchen was practically in pristine and unused condition. He can’t blame you for growing tired of his unhealthy food habits—microwave dinners for the most part, other times leftovers he brings home from restaurants, otherwise just candy and pastries. You’d refused to make him anything in the start, but you’d soon caved when you realized he could just as simply refuse to bring you the ingredients. You’re now the designated cook of the house. It’s cute, like having his own little housewife.

Your guard has also dropped. You no longer flinch away when he’s close. Not that he allows himself to touch you improperly—just a little—a few accidental rubs here and then, brushing along you in passing, blaming it on the blindfold even when he can hear your feet pad along the floors in the utter silent emptiness of his house. And other innocent things... laying his hand on your head when he reaches for a glass in the cupboard above you, telling you he wouldn’t want you to hit yourself—brushing your back with his chest and his crotch on your rear. It can’t hurt—it only barely touches and just for a few seconds.

It makes him feel like a filthy drug addict, though. Desperate for a fix, then only wanting more once it’s gone…

He’s been coming to your room to watch you sleep almost every night. You don’t know. You’d be more wary of him if you did. But no, you’re under the impression he’s just some poor, disillusioned man who’s otherwise harmless. You don’t know, and he aims to keep it that way.

It’s for your sake. Just the same as you don’t know curses exist, you needn’t know of the cursed thoughts simmering within his head either. So, he does it for you. To spare you.

That’s what he tells himself when watching you obliviously drink the crushed pills he’s been feeding you for the last many months.

He’d reached his breaking point much sooner than he thought—just after he swore against it, actually. Limiting himself only seemed to make him ever more in need of you. But it was to be expected—he’s never been too good at abiding by rules. He’s always felt above them—even those he sets upon himself.

He’s happy you’ve warmed up to him when you’re awake now, too, utterly unaware you’ve been more than accommodating in your sleep.

Of course, he feels bad! But what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

Besides... give or take a few more months, and you’re bound to invite him into your bed at some point. It’s only natural—humans require contact and will accept what’s available to them. He’s only early in taking what he knows you’d give him sooner or later anyway.

You have no way of knowing how long you sleep, no windows, no watch—no idea you sleep more than half a day every night—half of that time spent with him.

He’d only spooned you at first—his bare hands laid in reverence against your soft skin, reveling in your heat while cuddling into you. It had been nice, but ultimately not enough. He’d resorted to undressing after a while, lying there naked—but still, doing nothing but holding you—skin-to-skin. That, as well, had only been enough for a while—now keeping a hand on you while tugging himself in the other. It seems that every indulgence he allows himself only serves to make the need within grow deeper. You rivet his entire body ablaze like nothing else… and he has this undying feeling pounding in his chest and throughout his body, down to his throbbing dick, that being inside you is going to feel like nothing he's ever felt before.

And you're so cute down there—pretty on his fingers—welcoming. Kissing there makes his candy addiction go to waste. He’s convinced burying his face between your thighs is where he belongs. Right there, smothered in the warmth with your taste flooding his mouth. He could die happy. 

And fuck if it doesn’t look like you need his cock inside you once he pulls away—spit-slicked, swollen, and fluttering for him—crying to be filled and fucked. 

The little sounds you make as he enters you are the sweetest sounds he’s heard in his life—pretty little mews and sleepy moans as he fills you out until you’re neatly settled around his base and fuck—he’s already cumming, melting within the surrounding cloudy warmth. 

It doesn’t stop him from remaining hard. 

Dropping his weight atop of you, he smothers you like a duvet—bodies pressed perfectly against each other as he kisses every and any part of you he can reach, snapping his hips in short thrusts deep within—sucking your lip while sinking his fingers into the plume of your haunches, lapping up the spit from within your mouth like a well granting all his wishes.

He cleans you up after—wipes you down, and frets over the bruises left on you, hoping you won’t read too much into how sore you are. Leaving the crimescene just as it had been before, then kisses you good night.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[clawsdevour]

js wanna be yours

wc: 0.8k content warning: ur his first ever crush and he's confessing to you, fluff, atumu x reader, not proofread

note: this is kind of like a follow up from his first crush because an anon requested to see how atsumu would confess! (also he is SO the type of guy that's chalant but goes lowk silent around you)

⠀𓈒 ◌⠀ֹ ͏⠀ 𓍼

A letter? That's odd. I rarely get letters left in my locker, you thought to yourself. Staring at the plain blank envelope, looking for hints or clues indicating who slipped it in the little slot. Absolutely nothing, not even a small pencil mark.

Carefully ripping the glued seal, you take out the small folded sheet of paper. Just like the plain envelope, there wasn't even any decorations or drawings left on the blank piece of paper.

Unfolding it, there only laid a few words to be read:

'Please come to the back of the school, near the lockers, at four pm. I need to tell you something important.'

You can't tell if this was some sort of silly prank being pulled on you. It was way too early for a prank, all you just wanted was to put on your indoor shoes. In your mind, you're contemplating about this letter that wasn't even signed.

Should I show up? I don't even know who this person could be.. this could just be a prank someone pulled on me!

Sighing, you close your locker and slip the note into your bag before heading to your first period. The letter could come second, overall school just began.

The day flew by without a worry, making you almost forget about that mysterious letter left in your locker. Looking back at the clock, it was three forty-seven.

Still, you couldn't quite wrap your head around this sudden opportunity to see who was behind the note left in your locker. You were more than just curious to know what their motives and intentions were as well.

Hearing the clock strike, you made up your mind. I'm going to see who this person is.

Heading out of your classroom that was filled with chatter, entering the quiet halls whilst you make your way down to the back of Inarizaki. You were on the lookout to see if any of the familiar faces lurking around could be that person.

Making it outside, the humidity in the air hits you while you fight past it. Near the lockers, you saw a tall figure disappear around the corner.

That was a bit odd. That guy's going the same way as me.. is that the guy behind the letter?

A bit concerned, heart starting to pick up the pace with every footstep that inched towards the back of the locker rooms. You're walking ever so slowly, trying to not make noise.

A tall and lean silhouette makes it's way into your vision. The man's wearing Inarizaki's volleyball uniform, perhaps they just left practice. He isn't facing you, but you had an idea of who he may be with that blond hair. It was no one else but someone you've just gotten closer with over the past few weeks.

"Atsumu, is that you?" breaking the suspenseful tension that rose in the air. His back turns away from you, chocolate eyes wide open with brows raised. Atsumu's face was slightly still flushed from volleyball practice and his hair sticking to his forehead.

"Hey! Um look.." his shyness taking over when you walked up to him. A hair scratching his nape.

"You wrote that letter in my locker right..?" The awkwardness starting to build up like the first time you both met.

"Yes, I just really have to say these words to you. It's like nippin' at me like crazy" his big eyes are nervously flicking back between his trembling hands and your face.

You've never seen your best friend act this way before. Something must be really aching at him if he's being like this. He's biting down on his bottom lip before parting them again.

"I really.. just, like ya" his husky voice getting lower, hoping you heard him through his slight mumbling.

Atumu's more than flushed. He was practically burning a hit red. His heart is thumping more than a hundred miles per hour. He can't believe he just confessed.

On your end, your face is frozen in mid-gasp. This was more than just a surprise since you've always had this nagging feeling that drew you towards him. You finally understand why, not just as bestfriends, but because you also liked him.

"Atsumu.." tilting your head up just right below his tall stature. You're automatically smiling from his words. The contentness you're feeling is unmatched by his, you can't even wipe off the grin from your face.

"..I just wanna be yours-" he's feeling a warm hand reach to caressing the side of his face. A wave of euphoria washing over him when your lips make contact with his.

His eyes are bigger than the volleyballs that he sets on court. He can't believe his confession went so well. He's gonna for sure brag about this to Osamu later.

Unlatching your lips to respond to him, a wide beam of joy radiating from your smile. Looking at his red complexation, his mouth parted, looking absolutely dumbfounded and awestruck.

"Duh, you've always been!"

masterlist here

[444takeomi]

WHEN HE HAS A CRUSH ON YOU

: ̗̀➛ summary: how 1st gen bd act when they like you

character(s): shinichiro sano, wakasa imaushi, takeomi akashi, keizo arashi

warnings: female reader

wc: 2.0k

a/n: i wrote most of this after having worked a 70+ hour week. apologies if it doesn't make a lot of sense, i was very tired as you can imagine💀

: ̗̀➛ shinichiro

- shin is very open about his feelings, to the point where it's not even really a secret that he likes you — especially if you're close friends with him, there's a good chance you know already ahaha

- i think he's the type to get flustered whenever you initiate physical touch, even if it's accidental

- one time at the bike shop you unknowingly brushed your hand against his when you passed one of his tools to him and he literally thought about it for the rest of the day

- he's so touch starved </3

- his friends constantly make fun of him for the way he acts around you, while his siblings tell him you're way too pretty for him and out of his league

- he really can't catch a break💀

- shin gets upset if he finds out another guy likes you too, and he can't help but feel jealous whenever you laugh or smile more around the other guy than you do with him </3

- he really wants to impress you, he likes telling you stories from his black dragon days and goes into detail about all the fights he got into — he definitely over-exaggerates them a lot though and leaves out the parts where he got his ass handed to him💀

- if at any point he overheard you say you hated smokers he would literally try to quit just for you, or at the very least put out his cigarettes and avoid smoking when you're around him

- he’s such a cutie, he secretly watches those youtube videos titled ‘how to be a good boyfriend’ and ‘how to get your crush to like you back’ </3

- whenever shin notices you're nearby he subconsciously starts fixing his appearance — he’ll straighten his posture and run his fingers through his hair, he always wants to look his best in front of you

- if you ever compliment his cologne he makes sure to wear extra when he knows he's going to see you that day, he also likes to spray it on his hoodies and jackets and offers them to you when it's cold

- speaking of which, his heart literally skips a beat whenever he sees you wearing his clothes, it makes him feel like you're already dating and he can't help but start daydreaming about what it might be like being yours </3

- shin really wants to ask you out, but after being rejected so many times before he can't help but worry that you'll reject him too — however he eventually decides to take the chance and tell you how he feels, it's not as if you haven't already caught on anyway

- if you reject him he'll obviously be super upset, way more upset than he was after any of his previous rejections, but to be honest he was probably expecting it </3

- on the other hand, if you accept his confession he’ll be very caught off guard after being turned down so much in the past, but he'll be super happy nonetheless and won't be able to stop bragging to his friends and siblings that he finally has a girlfriend, and how he's so lucky that he gets to be dating someone as amazing as you <3

: ̗̀➛ wakasa

- waka isn't very vocal about his feelings towards you, and therefore he’s pretty good at hiding it to the point where almost no one would suspect that he liked you — but that's not to say his friends haven't picked up on it by now

- they constantly catch him staring at you, and he's really not as subtle as he thinks he is, half the time he's not even paying attention to them when they're talking to him because he's too distracted by how pretty you are

- if you end up noticing him staring he likes holding eye contact with you until you get shy and look away, he thinks it's adorable and it makes his heart flutter seeing you all bashful <3

- he usually has the same deadpan expression and rarely shows any emotion, but when you're around he's like a completely different person — he's noticeably more expressive and talkative and he smiles more often when he's with you

- he’s so in love </3

- waka is also considerably more touchy and clingy with you — it doesn't seem like anything out of the ordinary to most people, but if you pay close attention you’ll start to notice that he's always looking for the opportunity to sit next to you and be close to you wherever he can <3

- his love language is definitely physical touch, and he likes brushing his fingers against your skin and leaving fleeting touches whenever possible — he’ll feign innocence and pretend it was an accident but in reality he's totally doing it on purpose

- as much as waka likes physical contact, he always makes sure to respect your personal boundaries as he'd never want to make you uncomfortable

- he's the type to notice small differences about your appearance, like if you've changed your hair or done your makeup differently

- he pays a lot of attention to you, more than you probably realise <3

- i don't think waka would make a huge deal out of confessing to you, he'd probably either just come up to you one day and tell you straight up or alternatively he might drunkenly blurt it out to you by accident

- if it was the latter you most likely wouldn't take him seriously at first, and so he'd make sure to tell you again once he was sober, as he wouldn't want you to think he was just messing with you because he was drunk

- if you rejected him he'd definitely be humbled, as i don't think he's someone that’s used to being turned down, but he’ll respect your decision of course and hopes that you can still be friends

- now that he's finally struck out with a girl he knows that shin will have something to make fun of him for after years of being teased for his 20 rejections💀

- however if you accept his confession you’ll finally get to see the real waka, he stops holding back and becomes especially clingy and needy for your attention, a side of him that only you get to see <3

: ̗̀➛ takeomi

- omi isn't the best at handling his emotions, especially when it comes to you — at first he was in complete denial about liking you, hoping that if he ignored his feelings towards you that they would eventually go away

- if his friends ever mentioned you or implied that he had a thing for you he would insist that you were annoying and would tell them he couldn't stand you💀

- little did he know they saw right through him, it was pretty obvious how fond of you he was just from the way he looked at you

- i feel like it got to the point where he was so stubborn about it that waka had to go as far as to pretend he was going to ask you out just to get omi to finally admit that he had feelings for you

- omi is the embodiment of being mean to you because he likes you — he's always teasing you and loves to push your buttons to try and get a reaction out of you, he thinks you’re cute when you get mad

- however if you tease him back it catches him completely off guard, he gets all flustered and starts stumbling over his words </3

- you always catch him looking at you from across the room, he tries so hard to play it off as if he wasn't just checking you out but he does it all the time to the point where it's obvious💀

- while omi may struggle with being affectionate towards you, the way he shows you he cares is through doing favours for you, for example by offering to take you home on his motorcycle

- beware of riding with him though because he likes to randomly speed up out of nowhere, you just assume it's because he's a bad driver but little do you know he only does it because he’s hoping you’ll get scared and wrap your arms around his waist

- if you do end up clinging to him he’ll more than likely make fun of you for it, but his heart will be racing the entire time — he’s just glad that you can't see his face because he can feel his cheeks getting warm </3

- similar to waka, if he was going to confess to you he wouldn't really make a big deal out of it either, i think he'd just casually mention that he liked you in the middle of a conversation and it would catch you completely off guard

- if you reject omi he’ll actually be so embarrassed, i feel like he'll immediately change the subject and act like nothing happened because he doesn't know how else to handle the rejection </3

- if you tell him you feel the same he might get a little cocky about it initially, but deep down he's just so relieved you didn't reject him — despite the confident front he puts up he was actually really nervous to tell you

- he probably tries to give dating advice to shin as if you two haven't only been going out for a few days💀

: ̗̀➛ keizo

- benkei is such a sweetheart, but even more so when he has feelings for you

- i feel like he's the kind of person who just admires you from afar when he likes you — especially if you're close friends, he definitely doesn't have any plans to tell you as he wouldn't want to risk ruining the relationship you two already have </3

- although he doesn't want to outright tell you how he feels that doesn't mean he won't drop small hints here and there

- for example, he always offers to walk you home even if it's completely out of his way, and if you’ve forgotten your jacket when it's cold out he’ll drape his own over your shoulders as soon as he notices you shivering <3

- he’s also very protective over you, especially when you go out to places like bars or clubs — he watches over you throughout the evening just to make sure that no one is harassing you, and if someone does end up making you uncomfortable or puts their hands on you without permission he won't hesitate to beat the living shit out of them

- considering how strong he is, benkei is surprisingly very gentle with you

- he always seems to know exactly how you're feeling, and whenever you're sad he’ll engulf you in a big hug, holding you in his arms so delicately like you're made from the most fragile glass </3

- he also remembers a lot of small details about you that you've mentioned in previous conversations, such as your go-to orders from different restaurants or your favourite songs — he claims that he just has a good memory but in reality it's because he loves listening to what you have to say <3

- benkei cares a lot about your safety, whenever the two of you are out together he always walks on the outer part of the sidewalk so that he's closest to the cars, and if you go somewhere by yourself he’ll ask you to text him when you get there so that he knows you're okay

- he loves giving you head pats, especially if you're a lot shorter than him — he thinks the height difference between the two of you is really cute <3

- if you're into working out then he’ll invite you to train with him at the gym and will offer to spot you

- senju always makes fun of him for his crush on you, sometimes she deliberately teases him when you're around to the point where it's pretty clear that he likes you </3

- as i've mentioned, benkei will hint at the fact he likes you but i don't think he'd directly tell you, to be honest if you want to date him you’d probably have to be the one to ask him out yourself

- if you did end up telling him you liked him he'd be very taken aback by your confession, but after the initial shock wore off he'd of course tell you he felt the same way, unable to wipe the grin off his face <3

please do not translate, repost, or share my writing on any other platforms eg. tiktok

[glowupwithamy]

Finish what you started and transform your productivity

Recently i picked up a book i hadn't read in a long time for the past week i hadn't been able to work properly my tasks were going unfinished so i opened my cupboard and saw that book right in front of me. Then i read the whole book in just a one night and it sparked inspiration in me ..So i thought why not share everything i learned with all of you?

So I'm giving you guys a structured summary of Finish The Art of Following Through - Taking Action, Executing & Self Discipline by Peter Hollins -

1. The Importance of Execution

The ability to follow through allows you to create the life you desire rather than settling for the one you currently have. The process consists of focus, self-discipline, action, and persistence

2. Barriers to Follow Through

- Inhibiting Tactics: These include setting bad goals, procrastination, succumbing to distractions, and poor time management.

- Psychological Roadblocks: These encompass laziness, fear of judgment or failure, perfectionism driven by insecurity, and lack of self-awareness.

3. Staying Motivated

To remain motivated holds both external and internal motivators -

- External Motivators: These involve utilizing other people or resources to encourage action, such as accountability partners upfront investments and self bribery

- Internal Motivators: These focus on understanding personal benefits and improvements. Ask yourself questions such as How will this benefit me? and How will my life improve?

4. Developing a Manifesto

A manifesto is a set of daily rules that guide your actions so her are the some key rules -

- Rule 1: Identify if you’re acting out of laziness and avoid it.

- Rule 2: Limit yourself to three major tasks per day.

- Rule 3: Establish daily limitations and requirements

- Rule 4: Reaffirm your intentions through statements like I want I , will and I won't

- Rule 5: Reflect on the future consequences of not following through

- Rule 6: Utilize the concept of "just 10 minutes" to push through discomfort.

5. Follow Through Mindsets

- Mindset 1: Recognize the worthiness of your efforts.

⭐ Mindset 2: Become comfortable with discomfort.

- Mindset 3: Understand that learning comes from completing tasks.

- Mindset 4: Manage stress and anxiety effectively

6. Overcoming Procrastination

Procrastination can be managed through strategies such as:

- Temptation Bundling: Combine unpleasant tasks with enjoyable activities.

- Creating Momentum: Make starting tasks as easy as possible to gain momentum.

- Leveraging Fear: Use productive paranoia to spur action but cautiously

7. Minimizing Distractions

Create a work environment free from distractions and focus on

⭐ Single Tasking: Avoid multitasking to eliminate attention residue ( I will also create a separate blog on this topic i used to face this problem earlier and i have used many methods to reduce my habit of multitasking so i will write a blog about it. Don't worry )

- Batching Tasks: Group similar tasks to improve efficiency.

- Creating a Don't-Do List : Identify tasks to ignore and avoid ( This method is literally too much helpful )

8. The 40–70 Rule

This rule suggests acting when you have 70% of the necessary information as waiting for 100% is unrealistic

9. The Importance of Rest

Recognize the value of rest and relaxation as essential for mental recovery

10. Common Pitfalls

- False Hope Syndrome: Avoid unrealistic expectations and set achievable goals.

- Overthinking: Avoid excessive rumination and focus on taking action.

- Worrying: Concentrate on the present and control what you can.

11. Developing Daily Systems

Establish daily behaviors that promote consistency and long term success

⭐ Keep a Scoreboard: Track progress for motivation ( Ive been using this method for the past four days it literally shows me where I am making mistakes and what I need to do to complete my unfinished tasks )

By following these structured advice you can improve your ability to finish what you start and achieve your goals

If you have any questions or tips to share feel free to drop them in the comments in here to chat , Stay connected for more tips and insights thanks :)

[fairyysoup]

matters of taste

part one (repost)

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

summary: Not all trainees are great on the job. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson in a bakery, however? Absolutely unmatched.

content warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI) smut, threesome - f/m/m, semi-public sex, workplace sex, car sex, handjobs, oral (f+m receiving), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, spitroast, fluids play, dumbification, praise, degradation, implied masochism, mention of housewife kink, steve harrington has a big dick, enemies to lovers-ish but they're all crazy about each other let's be real\

a/n: this is my second time trying to repost this!! let's not talk about how ugly it looks ok i think the header is implying that reader is a sentient pie and honestly... yeah

It’s… you know what. It’s whatever. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine, everything’s fine.

You pause midway through frosting some cinnamon rolls to watch one of the newbies wheeling a cart of mislabelled muffins past your decorating table. You strategically keep your voice void of inflection as you say, “Price stickers, Harrington.”

“FUCK!”

You watch Steve dramatically jostle the cart back around to wheel it toward the rack that contains the multitudes of different flavor and price stickers used in the bakery, swearing like a sailor the whole time. He collides with another cart, and slams it directly into your other trainee, Eddie Munson. 

“Shitshitshitshit shit-” Eddie curses and stumbles into a rolling rack of donuts. He grabs the rack before it can topple over, and succeeds in catching four trays of donuts when they fall out of their slots and into his arms. 

You roll your eyes at the spectacle the two of them create, which is quickly becoming the norm, and go back to stroking globs of cream cheese frosting across the cinnamon rolls in front of you. 

It’s not like they’re the world’s worst trainees or anything. It’s not like they’re completely incompetent, or that they purposefully goes out of their way to make your job unnecessarily difficult or anything. It’s not like, together, they create the most chaotic and hazardous environment possible.

No, sir. Nothing to see here. No problems to be had. 

“‘You didn’t put the price stickers on, Steve-’” you hear Steve mocking you in a purposefully insulting falsetto, and give him a side-eye that you know he can’t see. “Mehmehmeh- ‘You didn’t put the bagels in properly. You didn’t frost the bundt cakes just right.’”

“‘You didn’t circumcise the bread bags,’” Eddie adds as he shoves the trays of smushed donuts back onto the rack and grabs a rag to wipe icing from his apron.

“Fucking what?” You turn to look at them fully, holding your frosting covered hands out in front of you.

“I don’t know!” Steve whirls around to sneer at you. His bubblegum pink uniform shirt is just about the same color as his face, rosy and flushed with the heat from the ovens and probably his climbing heart rate. “Why’s everything gotta be packaged differently? It’s just bread!”

“I don’t make the rules! Don’t argue with me and just do it!” That’s another thing. Steve’s just so argumentative, about everything. How you package things, how you wash the dishes, how you clean the floors at the end of the day. Meanwhile, Eddie won’t argue with you per-se, but the day he does something correctly will be the day pigs fly. It’s the most annoying fucking thing you’ve had to deal with at this job, and you’re stuck training them. 

It’s not a particularly hard job. You’re just clerks at Mimi’s Bakery, nothing is out of the realm of doability- it’s more of a stamina sport. You’re all closers, so that means a lot of packaging and a lot of cleaning, interspersed with helping some late afternoon and evening customers, within an eight hour shift. It isn’t very busy anymore, either; summer’s over, and you still have about a month until the holiday rushes start. It shouldn’t be too terribly difficult for them, but they’ve both been here for two weeks and still act like they were born yesterday.

Steve spends an extraordinarily long time putting the price tags on the packages of muffins- and putting them on crooked, anyway, so that the entire pile looks janky and rushed despite his slow pace. Eddie’s too busy wiping chocolate icing from his arms to notice Steve’s haphazard labeling. 

Your eyes trail the wet rag that Eddie drags across his skin, leaving behind only the ink from his tattoos for you to scrutinize. During the lull, the bakery’s PA system comically offsets the tension in the room with a generic old jazz standard. Your boss, Mimi Callaghan, has an enthusiasm for novelties from her youth- hence the confectionary shop-style pink pinstriped uniform dress you wear, and your clashing forest green apron just oozing with sex appeal. Steve looks like a knockoff Ken doll in his similar blouse and khakis, but he confessed to you on his first day that he used to work at the Scoops Ahoy in the old Hawkins Mall, so you assume he isn’t too phased by it. You’re not about to tell him that he makes it work. Eddie, on the other hand, looks like someone picked him up at the Local Smokes down the street and thrust him into the uniform against his will, like he’s not really supposed to be here. You hate that you find the weird juxtaposition of his tattoos to the pink and green uniform kind of hot.

“Don’t forget to face the shelves when you put them out,” you tell Steve as he pushes the cart past you again. 

Steve’s ears glow bright red. “I’ll put out something-”

“Suck my fucking nuts, Harrington, you wanna do the job right or not?”

Eddie cackles loudly as Steve turns around, but instead of glaring at you he just looks mildly amused, like Eddie’s hysterical laughter rubbed off on him. “Why’re you so mean to me, huh?”

“What?” You splutter, gloved hands flexing in the air and squishing frosting between your fingers. “Why- why’re you so fucking difficult? Put the goddamn muffins out, we don’t have all day-”

“I think she likes you, Harrington.” 

You squint at Eddie, still rubbing himself down leisurely with the rag, twisting his rings around his fingers idly even though he didn’t even get any icing on them. He leans against the counter with a smirk on his pretty pink lips like he thinks he’s done something. Like there can’t be another reason for why you’re so easily frustrated by Steve- by either of them, really. Like their lack of decorum or work ethic are completely out of the question, you guess, to his way of thinking. 

“Like him?” you scoff, trying to appear nonchalant as you go back to smacking cream cheese frosting across the pans of pastries in front of you. “Puh- lease. He’s infuriating, he doesn't listen to directions. Also, Steve, your customer service voice? It- you know what, it’s obnoxious. We work in a bakery, you don’t have to put the moves on every girl that comes in.”

“Oh, okay. Hear me out- maybe you don’t like my customer service voice because you’re jealous.” Steve hums, rocking back on his heels and looking even more smug than he did a few seconds ago. “I can put the moves on you, too, if you’re feeling left out.”

You don’t dignify that offer with a response. You kind of just want to punch him in the face. “Go put the muffins out and let me listen to the goddamn PA in peace.”

He has the decency to look shocked. “You like this goofy old shit?”

“I love this goofy old shit, which is more than I can say about you.”

“It’s okay, sweet pea,” Eddie hums casually, in as condescending of a voice as he can muster. “You don’t have to pretend like you aren’t into Harrington. I know I am.” 

“And you, Munson-” You whirl on him, pointing one frosting covered finger angrily in his direction, at which his eyes go all wide and innocent. “Don’t even get me started. Your fucking hair gets everywhere. I swear I had to excavate an entire gerbil from the garlic bread you made yesterday. Take a fucking weedwacker to that thing, for the love of god. And… and your tattoos are fucking dumb.”

You don’t want to admit that you like the sight of the tattoos, actually. When Mimi had told you that the newbies you’d be training were gonna be “that darling Steve Harrington, and his friend, the Munson boy” you’d been a little bit pleased. There isn’t much to admire in a bakery except cakes, and if having the two of them around the bakery means things just got a little more scenic, then you were happy to have them. 

Unfortunately, a pretty face often means an infernal personality. Finding one without the other would probably take an act of god at this point. Times two, you got stuck with the fucking chaos twins.

“Dumb?” Eddie wolf whistles. “That smarts, sweetheart. It really does. You haven’t even seen all of my tattoos yet. I’d love to give you a tour of them, though-”

Your face burns at the thought of Eddie Munson letting you get a first class look at his tattoos. He probably has ones in places even god doesn’t know about, and you glare down at the cinnamon rolls in front of you to hide how flustered you are about it. “Fuck you, Munson.”

“I wish you would.”

“For christ’s sake- Steve. Muffins, now.”

Steve does what he’s told, for a change. It doesn’t give you as much of an ego boost as it usually does- really, you just feel sort of dull as you snap your rubber gloves off and throw them in the trash can to the side. You don’t know why you let them bother you as much as they do, but for some reason the just jerk your chain like nothing else.

The bell over the front door jingles, alerting you to the arrival of a customer. You take a quick peek at the ovens behind you to check the time; it’s nearly 8, and the bakery closes at 10. You fight to not roll your eyes as you grab a pair of gloves in case whoever it is wants something out of the display case. 

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Your voice is sing-songy enough that you want to smack yourself. A middle aged woman has made a bee-line for the counter, straight past where Steve is bent over a display table, struggling to shift all the old muffin boxes to the top and slide the newer ones underneath them. 

You stare at his ass for… probably way longer than necessary, honestly. 

The woman points at a singular cake box left on the counter from today’s special orders, and immediately reaches up to take it without any other introduction. 

Oh. One of these customers. The ones who come in and grab stuff off the counter without asking for assistance, who will walk back into the kitchen to look at the overstock racks and help themselves to things that haven’t been put out on the floor yet.

A tight smile curls at your lips as you snag the tag on the box and look at the name before she can yank it off the counter from you. “For Linda?”

The woman nods curtly. As you turn the box to face her, your eyes shift back to Steve as he moves around the side of the display table. He stretches his arm out to reach for a stack on a higher shelf, and your eyes linger on the way the short sleeve of his uniform shirt rides up to expose his bicep.

“This is not the cake I ordered.”

“What?” You snap your eyes back to Linda’s pinched face, glaring down at the cake on the counter. It’s a basic sheet cake, with white frosting and a screaming red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ on it. Not necessarily a masterpiece, but a neat and pretty cake nonetheless.

“I ordered a cake with a winning streak theme. This has nothing on it,” Linda says icily as you snatch up the order slip you had taken off of the box and inspect it.

“A marble quarter sheet with white buttercream and a red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ in black icing?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… what’s on the cake, ma’am.”

“But there’s no other decoration. Where’s the winning streak theme?”

You blink, and briefly make eye contact with Steve over the woman’s shoulder. He’s all but abandoned his task of stacking muffin boxes, instead watching your face carefully as your conversation plays out. He raises one eyebrow at you, and you’re not sure if that’s him trying to be condescending or supportive. 

“I- I apologize, ma’am-” you start, looking for a way to dig your way out of the situation, “The order does say that you requested the theme, but you didn’t specify any decorations. Our decorators won’t take liberties with the order on their own if you don’t request-”

“I don’t have time for this,” Linda interjects, and you clamp your mouth shut with a dull ache beginning to throb in your temples. “I’m supposed to be at a winning streak themed party in twenty minutes and I have an embarrassment of a cake to show for it. I should be reimbursed.”

“The cake wasn’t paid for in advance,” you tell her mildly, trying not to crinkle the page with her order on it as you hold it up. 

“Uh… accommodated, then. I shouldn’t have to pay for something I didn’t want in the first place!”

“I’m afraid I can’t just give you a cake for free, ma’am. I’m not authorized.”

“Can I speak to your manager, then?” 

You open your mouth to say that, technically, you are what amounts to the shift manager. It’s just you and Eddie and Steve in the store, and even though neither of your job descriptions really include the word ‘manager’ in them, seniority rules over all. You’ve been here long enough to be able to train them, so by right you’re the one in charge. 

But then a warm hand touches the curve of your lower back, and Steve appears out of thin air to gently scoot you aside without so much as a hello.

“What seems to be the trouble, ma’am?” Steve smiles, and you could almost mistake him for being sincere if his fingertips didn’t dig into your back just slightly before pulling away. 

Linda visibly softens her demeanor, smoothing her stringy blonde hair away from her face. “Are you the manager?”

You scrutinize his profile, trying for all the world to read his fucking mind, because you have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s barely even taken a cake order, let alone dealt with a disgruntled customer with a botched one.

“That, I am!” Steve declares, and oh. Cheeky motherfucker. He’s doing the voice. He bats his eyelashes- big, long, sweeping blinks that you think can make him take flight if he tries much harder. “What can I do for you?”

“This girl,” Linda tells him shortly, not even looking at you when she motions in your direction, “is refusing to compromise about this cake. It’s not what I ordered, and if I have to show up for this party without a winning streak themed cake, I’m going to be embarrassed. The customer is always right!”

“In matters of taste,” Eddie says from over your shoulder.

Linda fixes Eddie with a cold stare. “I’m sorry?”

“That, uh… that saying.” Eddie steps up to your other side, obviously choking back a laugh as he clears his throat. “The full saying is, ‘The customer is always right in matters of taste.’ Meaning you’re right about your order, we can’t argue with your personal preferences.” 

“Exactly.” Steve shrugs easily, the picture of self-assurance as he takes the order sheet from your hand and looks it over. You’re not even sure if he entirely understands how to dissect the order sheet itself, but he looks convincing enough while doing it. “If you don’t like the cake, you don’t have to buy it. But my gi- ‘ this’ girl is right.”

You snap your eyes toward Steve, the back of your neck burning. His what?

Steve continues like he’s made no mistake whatsoever. “We can’t give you the cake for free- the only person who can do that is the owner.”

Linda scowls. “‘Take it or leave it,’ you mean?”

Steve affords her a kind smile. “I’d be happy to pull any of our cakes out of the display instead, if you see any you prefer.”

“No,” Linda insists, obviously unhappy about it, “I’ve been coming here for twenty years and this has never happened, the owner knows me-”

“We can call Mimi, if you’d like,” he adds. 

“No, like I said, I have a party in twenty minutes,” Linda says sourly, and begins digging through her purse. “No, I’ll pay for this one, I guess.”

Behind the counter, you watch Steve ball up Linda’s cake order sheet in his palm, squeeze it unnecessarily hard, and toss it into the waste bin. Then, faster than fucking lightning, you watch Eddie type the price of the cake into the cash register. He hits the sales tax button twice.

“Come back soon!” Eddie says cheerfully as he hands her the receipt. 

You stand motionless behind them both, dumbfounded, until Linda leaves. And then Steve’s immediately cursing, shaking his head as he turns and starts walking toward the back room, hands untying the bow at his waist to undo his apron. “They’ll say anything for free shit. Anything. What the fuck is a ‘winning streak’ theme, anyways? I swear- no, you know what, I don’t actually fucking care. I used to give out freebies all the time at Scoops. But this isn’t corporate, and Mimi knows my family-” 

You follow him closely, disappearing into the back with him as he continues blathering. “Why did you do that?” 

“Hm?” Steve pauses as he’s pulling his apron over his head, and stares at you for a few seconds, like he doesn’t even know what you’re referring to. And then, you see his brown eyes widen. “Oh! I guess… I mean, I could see it going bad, and I figured if she wasn’t listening to you, then she’d probably listen to me. If I, y’know. Put the moves on her.”

You snort loudly. “Always so fuckin’ cute- I could have handled it myself.”

“No, I know you could have. I know.” Steve nods, his hair sort of fluttering around his face as he looks away from you. “But… y’know, you don’t have to. You shouldn’t have to, while I’m here. I’ve been tortured by KGB and fought monsters, I can deal with an angry customer-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh. Uh…” He pauses, eyes drifting off to the side, to meet Eddie’s, who trailed behind you into the back room and is lingering over your shoulder. “Dun- Dungeons and… and Dragons? Yeah… yeah! Have you- have you played it?”

“You?” Your giggle splutters loudly in your chest before bubbling up out of your throat unexpectedly. “Steve Harrington plays Dungeons and Dragons? You like that goofy sword and sorcery shit?”

“Fucking metal sword and sorcery shit, thank you very much,” Eddie snaps, and you scoff at him. 

Steve chuckles at your little jab at his words from earlier, looking anywhere but at your face. “Yeah, sort of. I mean… Munson taught me a bit about it.”

“Everything he knows.” Eddie’s grin is wide and holds an air of mystery to it, like he knows something you don’t.

“Hm. Put that on a t-shirt for me and maybe I’ll buy it.” You blush, staring at Steve’s profile as he pulls a water bottle out of the employee break cabinet and takes a long drink from it. Then, you turn to Eddie, who leans against the door jamb. “Where’d you learn that thing about ‘the customer is always right,’ anyways?”

“Hm? Oh… I used to help my uncle Wayne in his garage,” Eddie explains nonchalantly. “Learned a lot from watching him deal with customers.”

“Right,” you hum, nodding slowly, and then turn to Steve. “And you. You could get in so much fucking trouble if Mimi finds out about that whole thing. Where did you pick that up?”

“My best friend- Robin Buckley? You know her?” Steve says as he puts the bottle back in the cabinet and snaps it shut. You shake your head, and he goes on. “Yeah. She’s crazy smart. We worked together at Scoops, and Family Video. Always had a way to respond to everything, even though she’s awkward as hell. And before you ask- yes, she would have tried to put the moves on Linda, too.”

“Would she?”

“Oh yeah.” Steve grins at you fondly, making your heart stall in your chest a bit. “Every single move in the book. If you ask me, she’s better with the ladies than I am.”

You laugh, then nod your head slowly, looking him up and down. “Okay. You’re actually fucking hilarious, Harrington. Too bad I hate your guts.”

“Really? I’m moving up in the world.” Steve grunts. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, my darling dearest.”

“Is that why you almost called me ‘your girl?’”

His smirk creates cute little dimples in his cheeks. “No, I almost did that because you’re the only one who can tell me to suck on their nuts, and I’ll actually consider doing it.”

Before you can even take a moment to process that little wise-crack, Eddie’s distracting you. His hand passes through your line of vision, then comes up and presses against the front of your green apron, just against your breast. You genuinely think he’s trying to feel you up, and you snap your eyes down to find his ringed fingers scraping a giant drop of cream cheese frosting off of your chest. 

You feel your cheeks heat up. That must have come from when you were frosting the cinnamon rolls- more like smacking them around with frosting, really- and the fact that it was there the entire time Linda was here is more than humiliating. You must have looked like such an idiot, trying to conduct yourself like a manager-

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, using that same fucking condescending tone that makes your hair stand on end, before meeting your eye and sucking the glob of frosting off of his two fingers.

You get a sudden head rush, and it takes way more self restraint than it should to not audibly whimper. Oh, he really shouldn’t have done that. 

You stare at him for a long moment, your eyes flickering between his, and his fingers in between his ungodly pink lips. You… you feel like you’re fucking drowning, floundering around with your head underwater and you don’t know what to do. You snap your eyes to Steve, looking for some sort of sympathy or support, but he doesn’t give you any of that. Instead, he just winks. 

No. They absolutely should not have done that.

“Fucking… fuck this. Fuck both of you- I have work to do,” you hiss, trying to skirt past buckets of frosting to get around where Eddie’s blocking the doorway, but he refuses to step aside, instead creating a one-man barricade while he snickers and continues sucking on his fingers just to rile you up even more. “Fucking move, Eddie.”

“Oh, it’s Eddie now?” He grins, obviously enjoying how much you’re struggling, with your chest pushed up against his and your arm nearly circling his waist to lever yourself against the other side of the door. 

“Fuck you,” you spit, for a lack of anything else to say. 

“For the second time, I wish you would.” Eddie raises his hand and captures your chin, tilting your head up so that you look at him, instead of over his shoulder or to the side at Steve. Your heart jumps into your throat, feeling his damp fingers on your cheek and remembering how he had been sucking on them a second ago. “Might clean out that filthy mouth of yours.”

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” You snatch Eddie by his pinstriped collar, simultaneously pulling him down to your height and also pushing him back against the wire rack of boxes along the far wall. Eddie curses, stumbling and grabbing onto your hips as if that will steady himself. His nose nudges yours from this angle, and how close you crowd up against him. “You drive me up the fucking wall, Munson. You think you can just sweet talk me like I’m some uptight customer?”

“Woah,” Steve says from behind you, but he doesn’t sound the slightest bit surprised. More amused, and intrigued. “I think you struck a nerve.” 

“Did I?” Eddie whispers, with a hint of a smirk still on his face. His dark eyes are looking directly into yours.

He doesn’t even have time to breathe before you kiss him. Desperately. Long and hard and sort of angry, open-mouthed so that you can taste the frosting still on his tongue. He makes the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard- somewhere between a sigh and a moan, as his hands come up to cup your face and pull you closer into him. His knee slotting between your legs, not pushing up but just remaining solidly there for you to lean against it. It takes an inordinate amount of strength for you not to grind yourself down onto his thigh.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Steve says calmly from just beside you. 

Eddie pulls back for air, forehead resting against yours, thumbs stroking your cheekbones in a mockery of a tender embrace. “Go on. Show Harrington how much you hate him, too.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you grumble, but your hands have better plans. One stays on Eddie’s shoulder, but the other snatches Steve by the collar and pulls him forward so that you can attack his face with the same amount of fervor. Eddie has no compunction to be gentlemanly- while Steve’s hand rests lightly on your lower back, Eddie’s creeps up underneath your skirt to give your ass a tight squeeze, pulling you forward to grind against his thigh and making you gasp against Steve’s mouth so that his tongue can lick deeper into yours.

Nothing quite prepares you for how Eddie’s voice affects you when he says, “Uh oh, Harrington. I think I was right- she likes you. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You make a short noise in your throat, your hand sliding down Steve’s chest to his waist, fingers beginning to make quick work of his fly. “Let’s- let’s just double check, huh? Make extra sure.”

“God- yeah. Yeah, okay. Just- be on the safe side.” Steve’s tongue is burning up when it touches your neck, his head nuzzling down so that he can graze your throat with his teeth. 

Eddie catches your hand before you manage to wiggle it beneath his waistband, and looks you directly in the eye just before he spits onto your palm. You whimper noisily at the feeling of it, warm and wet, dripping between your fingers while Steve licks at your neck and heat simmers under the tender skin between your thighs.

Air punches from Steve’s mouth when you work his trousers down his hips and pull his erection out of his boxers- he’s not quite pulsing and swollen yet, but your fingertips still just barely manage to meet from how thick he is. 

“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” you curse as you give him a languid stroke, feeling him shudder when you brush your thumb over his tip and then drag your hand down his length again. Eddie’s saliva helps to make the motion fluid and smooth, adding a slick sound to punctuate Steve’s loud gasp. 

“What?” Steve hisses, trying his best to appear passive, but his voice betrays him and cracks. He gazes at you a bit apprehensively, his doe eyes looking a little foggy with need as they flicker over your face and focus on your lips. 

“Nothing on earth needs to be this big.” 

Eddie’s free hand coming up to weave through Steve’s hair and jerking his head back. His teeth catch Steve’s earlobe just before he murmurs, “Told ya, big boy.” Eddie looks directly at you over Steve’s shoulder. “Harrington’s packing a fucking monster, isn’t he?”

You hum as you let your fingers drift along the length of him. Steve’s gaze suddenly turns darker, and his chuckle falls flat out of his mouth like an exclamation of awe more than anything. “Think you can take it?”

You don’t answer that. Your grip tightens just a bit and he groans loudly, his eyes rolling back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling. “Are you one of those guys that’ll come as soon as I gag?” 

“Fuck, maybe?” Steve’s hands cup the sides of your neck and trail up to cradle your head as you lower yourself in front of him. 

Eddie scoffs. “He can’t handle it worth a shit. Don’t go easy on him.”

“Then he’d better hold on to something.” You scrape your nails down his exposed thigh, reveling in the way his entire body shakes at the feeling. 

And, without any further warning, you wrap your lips around his cock. 

Steve curses, hands balling into fists just before he slams them down against the shelf he’s leaning on. Through your lashes, you watch him gasp for breath and you wonder if he’s honestly going to last long enough to fuck you properly. Not that it really matters, though, because Eddie seems like he’ll be more than happy to pick up where Steve leaves off. 

Eddie’s hand rests on the crown of your head, guiding you on Steve’s cock. His tip leaks with precum that tastes salty on your tongue when you lick at his slit, and as you take him further into your mouth, you realize just how right you were. He hits the back of your throat, making tears spring up in your eyes and a quiet moan bubble up out of your chest on its own when you choke. 

Steve just about loses his mind over it. He groans loudly, scrambling for a place to put his hands and ending up with a fistful of Eddie’s uniform shirt while he tries to compose himself. 

“Holy fuck, you look so good with your mouth full,” Steve grunts, his free hand coming up your chin as he slides his cock out of your mouth and back in again.

“I think I like her more when she can’t talk back to us,” Eddie chuckles darkly, pressing on the back of your head and making you choke again. 

Steve hisses, his fingers tightening on your cheek. “Look at me, let me see those eyes- there you go. Pretty baby.”

You whimper, letting your jaw go slack so that Steve can fuck your mouth all he wants while you try to steady yourself. You should hate it. You should hate this- you hate them both. You think. 

Wait. Do you? 

You’ve never been this needy before, but hell if your cunt isn’t just throbbing in your uncomfortably wet panties, and your nails are digging into Steve’s skin where you grip his thighs for support. If he notices any pain from it, he doesn’t say anything- just keeps giving you these erotic little gasps every time his cock nudges the back of your throat and your eyes flicker shut for a moment before he taps your cheek and makes you open them again. 

“We should do this more often,” Steve says thickly, and without thinking, you hum in agreement. You add a little resistance against Eddie’s hand on your head to regain a bit of control, letting your tongue roll against Steve’s length however you want. 

“You think she’ll give it this good if she’s getting fucked?” Eddie muses suddenly, his finger’s toying with your hair rather than guiding you anymore. 

“Fuck- only one way to find out.” Steve shakily releases the fistful he has of Eddie’s shirt, letting him slip away from his side. Eddie’s hand leaves your head, instead falling to the tie on his apron to start undoing it. 

You whine softly, shuffling up on your knees and nearly slipping when you feel Eddie’s hands flipping the skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the cool air. His large hand smooths over the hem of your underwear, then lowers to stroke the cleft of your pussy through the fabric. 

“Oh, poor thing.”  

“What is it?” Steve asks. 

“She’s soaked through these pretty panties,” Eddie coos softly as his fingers stroke back and forth over the fabric, nudging your clit with achingly gentle, indirect touches. You moan, arching your back for more. “Baby got so wet from sucking Steve’s cock, huh? Sweet little pussy needs some attention?”

“Shit. God, that’s so hot. Fuck-” Steve grabs your hair, guiding you off of his cock with a wet noise that makes Eddie’s fingers press on your clit just a little bit harder. You splutter, drool trailing from your lips and dripping down your chin as you try to catch your breath. Something you can’t quite do, because Eddie won’t stop touching you. 

Steve tilts your head up, leveraging you backwards a bit as he kneels in front of you. “You want Eddie to fuck you? Is that what you need?”

You nod, wrapping your hand around Steve’s wet cock and giving him a few slow pumps. “Yeah, I-” you hiccup when you feel Eddie’s fingers hook your panties to the side, and dip through your dripping folds, unobstructed. “Oh fuck, I want it so bad.”

“Don’t hate us so goddamn much now?” Eddie croons as he presses two fingers deep into your pussy. 

You groan and hang your head, forehead pressing up against Steve’s navel and your nails sinking into the meat of his thigh. You can feel his cock twitch in your hand, and it occurs to you that he likes that pain- or maybe he just likes holding you against him while Eddie fingerfucks you.

Steve’s fingers card through your hair tenderly. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Munson. I think she’s having trouble talking.”

“For a change.” Eddie curls his fingers, and you nearly lose your balance, thankful that you have Steve to hold you up. “So fuckin’ wet… I think I want to taste it first.”

Eddie’s fingers leave you, and you openly sob against Steve’s stomach as his grip tightens in your hair. “E-eddie…”

His two hands curl around the waistband of your panties, and rip through the fabric as though it’s only paper. “Hold her up, Steve, it sounds like she’s gonna need it.”

Steve puts his hands on your shoulders and holds you up, rocking back so that he can get a good look at your face. Eddie spreads your legs apart, and you can feel him crowding his body in between them. There’s a slight pause, and then his tongue touches you, licking a stripe of fucking fire through your cunt from behind. 

Oh shit. Holy fucking shit. It’s too good, too warm and slick when you’ve been aching for it for way too long, your clit pulsing desperately and burning hot when his tongue strokes over it. You strain up against Steve’s hands, but he keeps pushing you forward, keeping you there against Eddie’s mouth. You moan obscenely loud, your hands tearing at Steve’s shirt like it’ll somehow convince him to let you go. 

“You’re so damn pretty like this, angel,” Steve whispers, tilting your chin up when your head falls so he can keep looking at your face. He’s flushed, his lips parted and his eyes drooping and so dark that you nearly balk under his gaze.

Eddie groans in the back of his throat and finally pulls back, and you’re not sure whether to chase his mouth or to sob for relief, so you sort of do both at the same time. He plants a hand on your ass to keep you from falling backwards into him. 

“Fuck, she tastes so sweet. Here-” You feel him move, and then Steve holds up a hand to catch something that Eddie tosses to him. 

You lift your eyes and discover that Steve is holding your torn underwear. The light blue fabric looks so out of place and innocent, little pink flowers decorating the waistband. It makes it worse that he’s looking directly at you, keeping you frozen in place. He holds them up to his nose and breathes deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut just briefly before he looks at you again and drags the soaked crotch of them across his tongue. 

“Steve…” you breathe, overwhelmed by the sight of him and the sound of his groan of pleasure. You search for something to say to him, but nothing comes before you feel something hot and thick pushing into your soaking entrance. You gasp, and then claw at Steve’s thigh in lieu of something to hold onto. “Fuck, Eddie-” 

“Shouldn’t you be choking on Steve’s cock right about now?” Eddie hisses through his teeth, sounding strained and letting out a low groan to punctuate it. 

You whine, feeling unbelievably stretched and full as Eddie splits you open, but you still scramble backwards and sink your mouth onto Steve’s cock so quickly that a gasp leaps out of his chest. 

Steve punches out a little laugh, his hand twisting your hair and pushing you down until your eyes water. “So agreeable once you get your pussy filled.”

“God, she’s so tight,” Eddie grunts as he hollows out and starts thrusting, reaching deeper inside you each time. You don’t think it’s so much that you’re tight as he’s just big- you haven’t seen his cock, but you can feel it, like you haven’t fucking felt anything else before, and it’s good. You can feel every inch, every ridge, and it makes your eyes fully roll back into your skull. “Fuck, you gotta feel this-”

“Can’t. ‘M not gonna last, shit…” Steve sounds wrecked, his words coming out sharp and desperate. The hand on your head is shaking, and you’re honestly impressed he’s lasted as long as he has. “‘M gonna come down this pretty throat.”

“You hear that, sweet pea? You gonna swallow all of Steve’s cum?” Eddie’s hand weaves through your hair around Steve’s fingers, aiding in shoving your head down onto his cock. 

As if you weren’t going to, and as if he wasn’t already fucking your mouth faster than you could reasonably keep up. But you whimper and bury your nose in the patch of coarse hair at the base of Steve’s cock, inhaling his scent and tasting his musky flavor on your tongue, and you swallow around him. And then you keep swallowing, because Steve comes hard.  

He sounds absolutely gorgeous when he does it, too. If Eddie wasn’t fucking you so hard that you couldn’t stop whining, you think it would be nearly like a symphony to hear Steve reduced to quiet whimpers. By the time the hands on your head relax enough to let you off of him, though, he’s completely out of breath. 

“Good girl,” Steve pants, his hand lifting up to caress your cheek and to wipe a little dribble of his cum from the corner of your mouth, so soft that it could be construed as sweet if there wasn’t any context to it. “Fuck… you were so good.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie coos into your ear, still driving his hips into yours with such force that it’s jolting you toward Steve. “Good baby, pretty baby- takes cock like a perfect little slut.”

You groan, hanging your head and arching your back toward Eddie. You seize up, your orgasm simmering low in you like the receding tide before a fucking tsunami, and you’re almost scared of how big it feels. 

“She liked that,” Eddie chuckles darkly, bending further over you so that his breath tickles your ear. “You like it when I call you a slut, huh? Our perfect. Little. Slut.”

You open your mouth to say his name, tell him to shut up, or keep going, or anything, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. Your hand juts forward and clamps down like a vise onto Steve’s thigh, finding that he’s pulled his pants up. Your nails scratch at stiff khaki twill, trying to beg him to take pity on you, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. 

“Pick her up,” Steve says above you. “I want to see her face when she comes.”

Oh, so he’s trying to kill you, actually. That tracks.

Eddie’s arm snakes around your waist and hauls you up, and he rocks back onto his heels to pull your back against his chest. He hugs you close to him, shushing you when his cock hits you from a different angle and you cry out sharply from the feeling. 

“Pretty thing can’t take it,” Steve murmurs as he crowds in close, his hands coming up to caress you through your dress. The fabric is too goddamn rough and itchy, and your skin is too sensitive for him to be toying with you now. 

“Oh, she can take it.” Eddie sounds so sure, his voice rough and stony as he rocks his pelvis up against you while, at the same time, pulling you down into his lap. “She can take all of it. Can’t you, baby?”

You hope the question is rhetorical. You’re trembling, too lost in the feeling of the mind-numbing bliss Eddie’s giving you to come up with a response at this point. Your hand plunges back over your shoulder into a mess of curly hair, and you feel him turn his head to brush his lips against your ear. 

Steve’s hand brushes up your thigh, creeping under your skirt that’s draped across both you and Eddie’s knees. You barely have time to pick your head up and intellectualize what he’s doing before his thumb touches your clit. 

“Oh fuck-” Eddie chokes out urgently, just at the same time as you sink your nails into his forearm and all of your floor muscles lock down around him. 

And then the tsunami hits. 

You nearly scream, your cunt tightening up to wring everything out of the sensation that it can. Eddie’s cock is so hard and it hits inside you so perfectly every time that you swear you’re going to die from it. You’re collapsing forward, despite Eddie’s grip on your waist and Steve’s solid chest creating a barrier for you to fall into- your limbs feel liquid, all your muscles finally relaxing all at once. 

You feel Eddie falter, his hand slipping on your waist so that you do fall into Steve’s chest. While Eddie’s cock throbs inside you and his moans fill your ears, Steve’s hands cup your face and tilt your head up toward his. And then his lips are on yours, and his tongue is licking deep into your mouth at the same time as you feel Eddie come deep inside your cunt. 

You don’t want Eddie to pull out. Not really. You’re not going to tell him to stay there inside you while you’re both crouched awkwardly on the hard floor, but you do wish he’d take at least a few seconds before he does, because the aching emptiness he leaves in his place is enough to make tears spring up in your eyes. 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, you did so well,” Eddie whispers as you sob openly from the sensation, his arm coming back around your waist to pull you against him. And then you both sort of topple backwards, his shoulders hitting the stacks of backstock frosting buckets as Steve shuffles back to lean against the wire rack across from you. He pulls your legs into his lap and starts stroking his hand across your bare calf. 

You try to catch your breath while Eddie reaches for something on the floor off to the side. You blink your eyes open to find him fiddling with his discarded green apron, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the pocket in it before wadding it up into a little ball. 

He promptly tucks it between your legs and starts cleaning you up with it. 

“R’you using your apron… as a cum rag?” You slur tiredly at him, squeaking a little as the rough fabric scrapes across your overly sensitive clit. 

“Don’t want to leave a mess,” he mutters easily, making Steve chuckle across from you. “Why s’it that I can fuck you half out of your mind and you’ll still bitch me out about how I clean shit?”

“‘Cause it’s fun t’see you all mad. You’re pretty when you’re pissy.” You feel his chest shake with laughter as he finishes wiping you down and tosses the apron aside, then wraps his arms snugly around your middle. 

“Good thing you’re pretty all the time, then.” Eddie huffs, rocking you back and forth a little as he fits his head on your shoulder. You tap your fingers across his forearm, looking down at them and humming contentedly. 

“What is it?” Steve asks, smiling at you almost fondly. 

You sigh, dragging your fingertip along Eddie’s skin. “I like his tattoos.”

“I knew it,” Eddie whispers, and you can hear the grin in his voice. He nuzzles his nose against your neck, making you giggle and shut your eyes. “I still haven’t shown you the rest of ‘em.”

“There’s always next time.”

Steve blinks. “You want to do this again?”

“Of course I want to fucking do this again, Steve,” you snap, rolling your eyes playflully. “Been wanting to jump both of you since you started, wasn’t it fucking obvious?”

“Was to me.” Eddie’s finger traces along your collar, toying with the first button on the front of your uniform dress. “Also, I haven’t seen your tits, so. I’m not done with you yet.”

“I dunno, the dress kind of does it for me,” Steve admits, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… cute. Like a 50s housewife or something.”

“Let’s get you a string of pearls and see how long ‘Big Dick’ Harrington lasts then,” Eddie snickers, and you laugh tiredly as you watch Steve flush. 

You fall into easy silence, but just as soon as you relax into Eddie’s arms, the bell over the front door of the bakery jingles. And then the hand bell on the front counter dings loudly. 

And dings again. And dings again. And dings agai-

“You gonna get it, this time?” Steve asks Eddie, sounding a little bit grumpy already. 

“No, I’m gonna hold her a while longer,” Eddie says coolly, not leaving any room for discussion. He presses a tiny kiss to your neck, just underneath your ear, and you squeak in surprise at the lightness of it. “Go get ‘em, Mr. Manager Man.”

“Fuckin’-” Steve rolls his eyes as he gently sets your legs aside before gracelessly clambering up off the ground. He smooths out his uniform, tucking in the tail of his shirt before striding through the door into the kitchen. “What’s up, party people?”

“Do you have any chocolate cakes with white buttercream already made? I need it for tonight.”

Eddie scoffs in your ear, his hand drifting across your thigh to rest just shy of your pussy, making your breath hitch and your hips cant up toward his touch. “They always wait for the last fuckin’ minute, don’t they?”

[incognitopolls]

hi, i sent in a comment back when one (not me) anon said they were unfollowing due to constant cisnormativity and gender essentialism in the polls. you didn't answer my ask back then, or maybe the ask disappeared since tumblr does that sometimes, but i would appreciate it if you would answer this, because i think it would be beneficial for everyone to actually talk about this openly.

i'd just like to ask, knowing that you may edit polls submitted to be more inclusive and clearer, why is the recent poll about preferences for a partner's pubic hair specifically for people with penises? and if there is another poll coming that's the same but for people with vaginas, i'm wondering why it would be necessary for a question like it to be separated like that. personally i don't see how that would make a big, or more importantly an interesting difference in the results. to me all it seems like it's doing is excluding intersex people and supporting this idea of "the two sexes" being fundamentally completely different from each other and someone's genitals playing a big part in defining people's preferences.

i'm not intending this as a hate comment, but as a genuine request for conversation around this subject, as you yourself said to the anon that unfollowed, that you'd like to hear about their side. i know i'm not said anon, but i think we're kind of talking about the same subject here, and recently there's been a lot of polls here separating people via genitals, and it's beginning to make me feel a little uncomfortable, in big part due to it implying that a huge portion of people here see gender and/or sex as a binary, and that people on the opposite ends of that binary are fundamentally different from each other due to their sex/gender.

apologies for the long ask, i just really wanted to avoid misunderstandings so i may have rambled a bit more than necessary.

Hi! Thanks for bringing up your concerns. The way I interpreted that question is that anon was curious whether pubic hair affects the sensation on the penetrating partner‘s penis, or whether pubic hair can be a hindrance– for example, acting as a barrier, or adding friction.

The original question was only aimed at people with penises, and I hadn’t planned on posting any variations for different genitals because (from what I’m assuming about anon’s curiosity) the question is so specific in asking about the sensation and/or logistics for a penis navigating around hair. I don’t think it would be helpful or yield any interesting data to post the same poll for people with other genitals. 

In this case, I think my error was in not specifying “does a partner’s pubic hair affect the sensation on your penis during penetration?”. That’s the question I think anon was trying to ask, but unfortunately it was more clear in my and anon’s heads and didn’t come across in writing as clearly as I thought I was saying it. 

Also, in response to the sentiment that there have been a lot of genital-related polls lately, there have been about 3 in the past 2 weeks, or about 3%. (7 polls per day; 49 polls per week; 98 polls every two weeks.) I understand if it seems like a lot, but the actual saturation is fairly low. I'm saying this not to dismiss you, but in the hopes of reassuring you that this blog is not shifting to become more heavily focused on separating people's genitals.

I got a number of helpful messages about the previous conversation on dyadism. I didn't respond to them due to some things in my personal life that limited my time, but I read them and have them saved as a reminder to myself when writing up polls so that I can continue to make these polls more inclusive of intersex people– I promise those messages weren’t ignored.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, soldier, medic, and spy

↳ warnings: mentions of surgery and alcohol

↳ song: runaround sue—dion

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He’s such a doofus. It takes him at least a month to pick up on it

• The entire time you’re flirting or making moves on him, he’ll jokingly reciprocate it under the impression that you’re just joshing around

• It takes one of the other team members approaching him for the mercenary to realize what was actually going on

• “Son.” Engineer had sighed as he stood in the doorway to Scout’s very messy room, “You do realize they like you?”

• Scout’s very dismissive and red faced about it

• “What? Psh. Stop messing with me, Engie. Don't you have sentries to build or somethin’?”

• The second Engineer leaves, he’s practically tearing up his room in a tirade of emotions

• Overthinks the past few months with you way too much. Practically wears a spot into the floor from all the nervous pacing he does

• In the end, Scout confronts you to ask you out

• Tries to be formal, but we all saw how that turned out with Miss Pauling. Eventually just gives up on trying to be suave— and not succeeding —to blurt out what he’s thinking

• “So, uh, yeah. I’m not so. Er. Good at this sappy stuff, but there’s a Tom Jones museum I think we could go check out. Together.” Scout pauses, accent only getting thicker with worry, “Alone. Y’know?”

• Over the moon when you say yes. All nerves dissipate and are immediately replaced with a cross between a smug and relieved victory

• If you look close enough at his ears, they’re a little pink

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫

• If he hasn’t known you for long, Soldier will actually just chalk your actions up to being a communist spy

• A very exasperated Demoman had to get Miss Pauling to bring in heavily classified paperwork on you just to prove to him you weren’t a commie

• “Very well maggot! I’ll believe you— for now! Sleep with one eye open!” Soldier had barked, slamming down your file on the dining room table as a tired Pauling watched. You noted that the papers were upside down, and you doubt he even read them. Or that he could read

• He’s very blunt with everything. Words, actions, emotions, etc. Doesn’t understand why other people can’t just do the same. It would make conversation so much easier to him

• So he’s not oblivious to your attention per se. Just very curious, I suppose

• It takes maybe less than two weeks after the Communist Incident, as Demo had dubbed it, for him to corner you

• “Maggot! Do you find me attractive?” He demanded

• You’d been eating breakfast at the time, and almost choked to death on your laughter at the question

• “Short answer, yes.” You gasped through wheezy laughter, the volume only increasing at the frown on Soldiers face. “Follow up question; is that really how you just asked if I had a crush on you?”

• Nods and booms back that he thinks you’re also easy on the eyes. Proposes the idea of doing a training course with you sometime. Breaks out into a crooked grin when you accept

• “Excellent! I expect you up at oh five hundred for the course tomorrow!” He saluted you, which was Soldier equivalent to a bone crushing hug of respect

• You returned it, and missed the way his eyes crinkled with happiness behind the brim of his helmet

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Always so consumed in his work that he probably just ends up finding out from Archemedies

• The birds had always been allowed to rest on your shoulder while he performed risqué experiments on you, acting as a distraction from the feeling of someone sifting around in your guts

• I guess the dove had picked up on one too many looks you’d tossed the ex-doctors way

• To this day, no one can understand how the two of them can communicate, but one thing leads to another and suddenly Medic is looming in your doorframe silently

• “What’s up, doc?” You’d greeted him with a Bug’s Bunny quote and a grin. Medics lips only twitched up slightly as he pushed his glasses back up the brim of his nose

• “A little bird told me zhat someone has a crush, ja?” He barreled right into the topic, leaving no room for you to prepare for the sudden accusation. Medics scrutinizing gaze didn’t miss the way your eyes glanced in the direction of his lab, no doubt silently cursing Archemedies

• “No need to fear, freund.” He unclasped his gloved hands from behind his back and approached you. “I simply am here to offer you a deal.”

• Turns out the deal was a chance talk over cheap beer in his office. Pretty rare, considering how much of his time Medic chose to dedicate to work

• “I’ll take it.” You shook his hand, briefly noting how large it seemed even when compared to you

• “Vunderbar, mein schatz.” Medic smiled gently, leaving you to wonder what he had just said

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• There is no hiding when it comes to this French fuck

• Spy immediately picks up on every glance. Every chance of avoided eye contact and unnecessary clearing of a throat

• Suddenly he seems to be a lot more talkative towards you than normal. Hanging out by your side at gatherings rather than a dark corner with cigarette smoke curling around his head

• Fleeting touches slowly begin to sprinkle themselves in between conversation. A hand on the shoulder here, and a brief touch to the pulse point there

• The first time he did the latter, he noticed how fast your heart was beating and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a slight chuckle

• If he was nicer, Spy would definitely take action and approach your first. In fact, sometimes he almost finds himself wanting to

• But the man knows how people work. If you truly wanted to pursue him, you would come around eventually. No point in making rash decisions. He was a patient man, after all

• A small part of his ego preened at the thought of making you work for it

• And come around you did eventually did

• Finds himself opening the door to his smoking room one late night only to be met with the image of a very frazzled looking you

• You rush out something about a date too fast for his ears to catch. Spy is simply too busy letting his eyes roam over your casual cloathing and slight fidgeting. The crooning of an old French record plays from behind him as he blinks down at you

• “Would you like to come in?” He finally sighs out, opening the door a little wider in the form of an invitation

• By the time you manage to get inside, you notice he already had a wine glass set out for you

[fxlling13]

I do, Not.

Whittaker!Master x (fem)reader

Synopsis: The Master joins you as a plus one to your cousins wedding, unaware of how awful your family actually is.

Warnings: Body shaming, bad language, suggestive content, homophobia, bullying behaviour.

WC: 8.5k

Light glided up and down the pillar in the centre of the console, moving at a regular pace, an indicator that you were adrift in space. There was a steady rumble in the air, the ships engine on auto. The Doctor was rambling, you weren’t sure what about as you had zoned out many minutes prior. But he was exited. Maybe it was your next trip? Or a new planet? Perhaps he’d found an ancient artefact and wanted to dissect it. Either way, you hadn’t been paying any attention. Your eyes were fixated on the metallic floor, brain going at a thousand miles per hour.

“-don’t you both agree?” The Doctors voice slowly filtered back into your head. Blinking a few times, you looked up, trying not to make your confusion obvious.

“Oh yeah of course. That was the best option, right (y/n)?” The Master looked over at you from her seat by the console, her face unreadable.

“R-right. Yeah.” You said unconvincingly, playing with your fingers. She raised her brows, looking you up and down as if to scan you. You just averted your eyes.

“Good. Good. So, I’ll drop you back off at home, (y/n)? Or should I wait till after you’ve slept?” The Doctor asked, smiling at you warmly. Your heart sunk a little at the idea, time was not on your side at all.

“After I’ve slept. If that’s alright?”

“Of course it is. You go and rest okay?” He grinned, patting your shoulder affectionately. You gave him a tight lipped smile, turning and heading up the steps, to find your room. Thankfully, the tardis had moved it closer for you. Once inside, you sat yourself on the plush bed and put your head in your hands. With your anxiety through the roof, you let out a shallow breath and gripped the roots of your hair hard. You really didn’t want to go, didn’t want to force yourself to act a certain way, just to appease your family. If you thought too hard, you knew you’d get overly emotionally and tried to regulate your mind. It was one day. You could survive one day. Right? Out of nowhere, hands landed on your own, carefully pulling them away from your head.

“Are you trying to pull your hair out?” The Master sounded both concerned and amused, looking down at you. Not having heard her come in, you gaped at her for a moment. She ran her fingers through your hair, straightening it out. “What’s wrong?” Her question caught you even more off guard, forcing you to smile.

“Nothing.” She just looked at you with a straight face, clearly seeing past your lie.

“You’ve been out of it all week. You nearly got lost yesterday because you weren’t listening to us.” The Master started, taking a seat beside you. “And I know The Doctor loves to chat, but you always listen. You’re always engaged. You’re far too nice not to be. So what’s wrong?” Knowing you had been caught out, you stared down at your lap in defeat.

“It’s stupid.” You muttered, thinking that the Timelady would just laugh at your woes.

“That’s for me to decide.” She replied, golden eyes never leaving you. Slowly, you turned yourself to face her, sitting criss-cross and occupying yourself with a loose thread on your navy sheets.

“I have to go to my cousins wedding when I go home.” You begun, nail catching the thread right to pull it out.

“Right? So what’s the issue?” The Master pressed, observing your body language.

“We don’t get along. At all. It’s complicated.”

“I see. If you don’t get on, why are you going?”

“I’m in the bridal party. Her mum, my auntie, practically forced her to put me as a bridesmaid.” You explained, straightening your back and looking at the blonde once again. “She’s really difficult to deal with. And really old fashioned. She even tried to force me to wear a really ugly dress but I fought her on that.”

“Have you tried hitting her?” The Masters question made you giggle, shaking your head. “It might work.”

“Yeah I’ll keep that in mind.” You said, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Can’t you take someone with you?” The Master asked, trying to bring light to your situation. You just groaned, flopping back against your pillows.

“That’s the problem. I can bring a plus one, I just don’t have anyone.”

“Why not take your precious Doctor. You know he loves a wedding.” She grumbled pointedly.

“First of all, he’s not ‘my’ Doctor. Secondly, no. He’s far too boisterous, would cause more issues.” Your voice grew quiet, closing your eyes and being saddened by the situation. Raising from spot, The Master walked around the bed and sat on the free side. She leant closer to you, admiring your features silently.

“What about me?” You shot up, peering at her a bit baffled.

“What about you?”

“Well. I’ll go with you.” She said calmly, as if it was easy. As if it were a normal thing for a woman like her to do.

“You’d go? To a human wedding?”

“Why not?” She almost seemed offended, putting her hands behind her head.

“Humans?” You chortled, shocked at her laid back approach to it.

“I don’t care about them. I’d be going to keep you company.” The Master propped up the pillows behind her, sitting back comfortably. Preying that your cheeks were staying their natural colour, you glanced at her again.

“You’ll dress up?”

“Come now, you know I love to do that.” Okay, she had a point there.

“You’ll follow the time schedule?”

“Just tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.” The Master turned her head to look at you with a smile. Now you were blushing, swallowing hard.

“You’d have to go in alone, because I’m in the bridal party. So you’d have to get ready and find your seat without me.” You told her, settling down once again. She hummed and nod, lying on her side to face you.

“That’s fine.”

“Really? You’ll go with me?” You were unsure, thinking maybe she was just pulling your leg. The woman reached across, brushing your hair behind your shoulder.

“Of course I will.” She tapped your nose softly, earning a bashful smile from you in return. “So tell me, what’s the theme sweetheart?” Her hand caressed your cheek, your breath catching slightly. The Master had always been touchy with you, and it was no secret that you loved it. At home, you had always felt touch-starved, coming from a more private family. From people who kept themselves to themselves, and their emotions under lock and key.

“Hm? Winter wonderland.” You said, gazing up at her happily. “I think she’s having it in a country manor. From the pictures, everything was white and covered in fake snow.”

“Sounds tacky.” The Master muttered, thumb rolling over the apple of your cheek slowly. Your skin went warm beneath her touch.

“The inside looks nice, it’s really old. If you ignore the plastic winter creatures she’s going to put up.” You both laughed.

“Dress code?” She then asked, remembering what you said earlier.

“Obviously it’s evening wear. Suits, dresses, whatever you feel comfortable in.” You let yourself consider the woman next to you. “It’s winter colours. So reds? Maroon? Plum? You’d look pretty in plum…” you trailed off, thinking out loud. She smirked, noticing your mind slipping elsewhere. Gripping your chin between her finger and thumb, she brought your attention back to her.

“Oh? Would I now?” Her smug tone made you realise what you had just said, your eyes growing wider. “Are you flirting with me, love?” The Master chuckled, leaning inanely close to your face. Panicking slightly, you scooted away and got up off the bed. She looked at you bemused.

“N-no of course not.” You looked down at the carpet, scared of the disgust that would be sent your way if she thought you were. “I wouldn’t..don’t worry.” The Master just looked at you with pure confusion, sitting herself upright.

“You know it’s okay if you were right?” She reassured. You just nod, grabbing your nightwear and heading into the bathroom to change.

———

You had given The Master all the information she needed. Time. Date. Place. Everything she needed to know. You were half convinced she wouldn’t even show up, but held out hope regardless. Once The Doctor had dropped you home, you gathered everything you would need and called a cab.

The manor was indeed already decorated, fitted with fake holly along all of the windows. Pine trees lined the drive in, the ground covered with white stones. Lifting your duffle bag, you walked inside and up into the bridal suite. You knocked, a younger blonde woman letting you in. You recognised her to be your cousins long time friend.

“Oh there you are. Hurry up and get dressed.” Your cousin, Beth, hardly looked at you, motioning to a door at the back of the room. She was in the middle of having her long, mouse-brown hair curled. Doing as you were told, you stepped into the lavish bathroom, admiring the floral wallpaper. Carefully, you pulled out your dress and stepped into it. The deep red satin fit you perfectly, the zip easy to fasten. With off the shoulder sleeves, the front having a v-cut neckline. There were lace details lining the long dress, the satin material flowing down your body perfectly. Even with a slit up the left thigh, the dress was classy and sweet. After fastening your heels, you left the bathroom. Beth turned, jaw clenching as she saw you.

“Sit. You need your hair done.” Her voice was dry, the lady doing her makeup having to stop momentarily. Sitting yourself down, you chose a simple style and let the worker do your hair. Everyone was chatting, a clear excitement floating around the room. You didn’t know any of them, only your cousin who was ignoring your presence. Already, you felt so out of place, sitting in silence whilst your face was made up.

“You look really pretty.” The lady applying your lipstick spoke quietly, your eyes growing in surprise. You smiled at her,

“Thank you.” Your voice was low, but clearly showed your emotions. Beth stood, two friends helping her into the oversized gown she called a wedding dress. Another bridesmaid handed her a bouquet of bright red roses, a stark contrast to all the white, but matching her lips. You were handed a bunch of poinsettia, tied with white ribbon.

“Don’t slouch or anything, (y/n). I don’t need you ruining the aesthetic.” Beth drawled, allowing someone to clip her veil in. You said nothing, just watching her and waiting. You knew eventually it would start, the insults and jabs. “Then again, you’re looking a little peaky. Lost weight?” The girls all laughed, apart from the stylists that was. Your hands moved to cover your middle self consciously.

“Maybe?” You mumbled, trying not to show any effect. Beth giggled patronisingly, making her way over to you. She looked you up and down with disgust, sucking on her teeth slight.

“I’d say just sit still and look pretty, but you can’t even do that.” Again, her little tribe began to laugh, as you stood there with shame. From the corner of your eye, you could see the make up artist looking at you with pity. Just then, your auntie burst into the room, a big smile on her face as she rushed to her daughter. You could hear her saying how beautiful she looked and had an internal conflict. It wasn’t your aunts fault, she didn’t know how Beth acted towards you. Still, it annoyed you.

“Oh and (y/n) don’t you look nice. I’m happy you’re here.” Your aunt gave you a quick hug before checking a message on her phone. “Twenty minutes people. Shall we head down and wait in the lounge?” She ushered everyone down the stairs, through some double doors and into a well decorated room. There were three couches and two chairs, all black velvet. Taking one of the chairs, you pulled out your phone, seeing that The Doctor had been spamming you with wedding themed gifs. You just scoffed to yourself, scrolling through them. Then your phone pinged, The Master.

Master: though I don’t like this stupid human technology, I’m going to use it for your sake. How is everything this morning?

Even her texts were formal, you thought whilst quickly typing a reply.

Me: stressful but fine. Just waiting for the groom I think. Are you here?

Master: of course I am. Right at the back of the hall. There’s an old man next to me. I don’t like him.

Me: what why?

Master: he smells like an old shoe cupboard. I’m thinking of spraying him with my perfume.

Smiling to yourself, you shook your head as your thumbs moved across the keypad.

Me: let’s not. I’m sure you can cope for an hour.

Master: an hour?! No, I think I may have to douse him in the stuff.

Me: as funny as that would be, please don’t.

Master: very well. The things I do for you, right sweetheart?

Her message made your cheeks grow red, your lip catching between your teeth.

Me: I am your favourite, right?

After the previous night, the way she had responded to your accidental flirting, you decided to test the waters. Just to see if she’d play along or be put off by it.

Master: but of course my dear, why else would I surround myself with silly little humans.

Your smile grew embarrassingly large, watching the small bubbles on screen. Who knew The Master could be so charming?

Master: besides, you don’t smell.

Me: that’s good to know.

Master: why do the women here wear such odd hats?

Me: it’s British wedding attire, they’re called fascinators. I don’t get it either

Master: they’re bigger than them. And so brightly coloured. Why do they have such big feathers and round things on them?

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, a hand coming to cover your mouth.

Me: sounds like you’re having fun, judging everyone.

Master: well, you’re not here so how else can I entertain myself.

Me: you make me sound like a toy.

Master: not at all, sweetheart. I merely enjoy your company, is that such a crime?

Again, you were blushing, staring at the black text dumbly. How could she have such an impact on you, when she wasn’t even with you.

“Who you texting, (y/n)? Your boyfriend?” One girl jeered, the entourage cackling in unison. You peered over at them, your mood souring in a second.

“Don’t be silly, as if anyone would ever date that.” Beth taunted, earning more laughs from her minions. Hastily, you put your phone into your bag, sitting yourself straighter. Seeing the time, Beth made everyone stand heading towards the doors. Giving you one last glare, she muttered “don’t walk too fast, your scrawny legs might snap.” With a sickening smile, she stood by her father and linked his arm. He was always a silent man, he saw his daughter’s behaviour but never cared. You got in line, holding the flowers so tight you thought their stems might break. Alas, they did not and you followed the other bridesmaids down the aisle, classical music guiding everyone along. You stood in formation, listening to the exchange of vows doing your best to keep a smile plastered on your face. It seemed to go on for hours, their self-made vows boring you half to death. Eventually, they said ‘I do’ and sealed their marriage with a far too long kiss, walking back down the aisle hand in hand.

———

Your aunt and uncle stood with you, waiting by a set of white French doors, for the happy couple to come along. It was freezing outside, but you three were forced to endure the November wind. All the guests were inside the main hall, being shown to their seats and allowed to get drinks.

“Oh my love!” Your aunt sounded happy, hugging the newly weds. You said nothing, just following your family inside when they were announced. Beth was making a scene for herself, waving at the crowd as if she were a celebrity. Rolling your eyes, you checked the list for your table number. Of course, you were with your family, on the main round table in the centre of the room. You spotted that your ‘plus one’ assigned the seat next to you, thankfully. Beth passed you, her hip budging you harder than needed. You stumbled to the side, allowing the taller to gaze at her guest list, as if she needed to.

“Don’t rush, you won’t be missed.” She spat, walking off without a care. Even though you’d always been treated that way from her, it made your chest hurt. You were growing tired of it. A hand landed on your shoulder, making you turn on the spot. You instantly relaxed, seeing The Master. She was looking you over with worry, a scowl on her features.

“I’ve been looking for you, did she really make you wait? Just so she could make that lacklustre entrance?” She scoffed, shaking her head. However, you found yourself thoroughly distracted, her appearance shocking you. Her usually straight hair had a slight curl to it, done with precision. She wore a crimson suit, with wide-leg pants and blazer sleeves turned up twice. Her shirt, crisp and white, was fastened with a loose red tie. More to the point, her lips were tainted like a candy apple, tempting you cruelly. “Love?” She trailed her hand down your arm, brining you out of your trance.

“S-sorry, what?” You stuttered, blinking quickly. The Master smirked, stepping closer and letting her eyes wander over your figure.

“Wow, look at you.” She grinned not shy about admiring you. You averted your eyes, looking to the side to escape her vision.

“Beautiful.”

“Awful-“ you both spoke at the same time, coming to look at each other with surprise. The Master frowned, tilting her head a little.

“What?” She half laughed, looking you over once more. “Awful? How can you possibly think that? You look gorgeous.” Her manicured hand cupped your cheek, lips curling up. You blushed, leaning into her touch naturally.

“I don’t agree, but thank you.” You mumbled, causing the woman to raise her brows.

“Would I lie to you?” She asked.

“Well, no but-“

“Exactly, you look devine. And I’ll give hell to anyone who says otherwise. Okay sweetheart?” The Master finally made you smile, nodding your head shyly. “Let’s find our seats shall we, I’m parched.”

After finding your seats, The Master looked around the room with a judging gaze.

“Everyone’s so…chirpy.”

“I think you mean, happy?” You laughed, facing her properly. She just rolled her eyes, leaning back on the mahogany seat and resting her hand on the top of your chair. For a moment, The Master just looked at you, her eyes softer than normal.

“What? What is it?” You felt small, like an ant compared to her. She exuded confidence and poise, making even the toughest men tremble. It was one of the things that drew you to her, her almost protective aura.

“I’m just admiring you, love.” She murmured, moving to twirl the front strand of your hair. Your face felt hot suddenly. “I like your hair, and your make up, it looks good.” The Master continued, not helping your racing heart at all.

“A stylist did it.” Was all you could get out, unsure of how to react to her compliments.

“Well, they did an amazing job. It’s hard to make perfection more perfect.” Your hands came up, covering your face in an instant. How could she say something like that so casually? She chuckled, stroking the back of your head.

“You can’t just say that.” You whined, peeking out at her.

“What? The truth? Of course I can, in fact, it’s very easy.” The Master grinned, giving you a cheeky wink. You just laughed, hitting her arm playfully. “I’ll go and get us a drink, okay love?” You bobbed your head, watching her leave your side and head across the room. A witch-like laughter drew closer, almost making you wince. It was Beth, and her poor husband, taking their seats two down from you. Her voice was loud and obnoxious, like nails on a chalkboard. She was boasting about her big day, clinging to her partners arm as if he’d vanish. Though, you wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“Enjoying your afternoon alone?” Beth asked, leaning over to you with a false smile. Ignoring her, you looked back into the crowd for The Master. “It’s a shame you didn’t go with the dress I picked for you. It would have given you a figure.” She said, grimacing as she looked at you. Sighing, you faced her with a blank expression. Beth put her hands up in defence.

“Look, I’m just saying. You look like a twig. That dress would have given you hips.” She exasperated.

“It was poofy and ridiculous. Plus, it was bright, bright red. I would have looked stupid.” You huffed pointedly.

“You don’t need any help there.” Beth spoke under her breath, crossing her leg and leering at you. “I think you look stupid in that dress if I’m honest. Why wear low cut when you have no tits to show off?” She laughed, pointing at you as if you weren’t there. A lump formed in your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “(Y/n) you look like a little boy. I’m not trying to be rude, it’s just facts. You should really gain weight if you ever want a boyfriend.” She chastised, her faux advice hitting you twice in the gut. Swallowing thickly, you dipped your head, gripping the fabric of your dress. “I’m assuming you came alone? Dumb question actually, of course you d-“ Beth paused, surprise taking over. Behind you, you felt the presence of someone sitting down.

“Here’s your drink.” The Master said, paying no mind to your cousin. It felt as though your lips were glued shut. The atmosphere was tense, the blonde beside you finally looking at Beth.

“Sorry, you are?”

“You can just call me, O.” The Master shook her hand firmly, the other scoffing a laugh.

“O? That’s a name?”

“Well obviously not, it’s a nickname. But it’s all you need to know.” Beth was taken aback by The Masters blunt attitude, but you didn’t care.

“Right. And how do you know (y/n)?”

“We worked together…” You answered, having already thought about it earlier. You’d known you had to be well prepared, couldn’t go around telling people she was an alien.

“Oh in your stupid little science job?” Beth sipped at her wine, the drink staining her top lip. You inhaled deeply, relived when Beth turned her attention to her friends. Blinking fast, you flinched when The Master placed a hand on your shoulder. Looking at her, you found her seemingly annoyed.

“Does she always talk to you like that?” She questioned, but you couldn’t respond. She hadn’t heard everything and you didn’t want to fuss over nothing. Your silence worried her. The Master brought you to face her, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“That’s a yes then. Ignore her, she looks like a pastry.” That comment made you laugh, picking up your fruity drink. Shuffling your chair closer, you gazed up at her sadly.

“You can distract me right?” Your voice was pouty, eyes glossed over. The Master felt her breath hitch, your innocent face doing things to her. She caressed your cheek lovingly.

“Of course, come here.” You didn’t need to be told twice, allowing her to wrap an arm around you and pull you back into her chest. With your back resting against her front, The Master let her arm hold around your waist, landing on your hip. Remembering your cousins words, you carefully moved her hand off of your hip-bone. The Master noticed immediately, looking down at you confused. Closing your eyes, you let out a breath and let your head fall back onto her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here, I don’t think I’d cope without you.” You mumbled, wetting your lips.

“You flatter me, love.” The Master sipped her short, “I’m not going anywhere don’t you worry.” She assured you, your eyes opening and looking right at her. You smiled shyly, not minding as her hand returned to its original spot. Drawing shapes on your hip, The Masters hazel eyes flickered down to your lips, just for a second before moving away.

“Will there be food?”

“Yeah look.” You reached forward, picking up a card from the middle of the table, then sitting back again. The Master took it from you, reading over the menu with a pleased hum.

“Sounds okay I suppose. I am quite peckish.” She spoke absentmindedly, eyes wandering around the room. Clearly, she was back to judging the guests again. It was funny to watch, the emotions on her face constantly changing. “Oh lord, that man is coming over.” Remembering her texts, you watched as an older gentleman waddled past and to the bride. You covered your mouth, tilting your head back and whispering.

“That’s her great uncle.” The Master made a small noise of recognition, her lips moving by your ear.

“That explains the smell.” You both laughed quietly, unaware of being watched.

———

After an hour of people mingling, everyone was made to sit and get ready for the food. The Master unfolded your cloth napkin, placing it over your lap neatly.

“How chivalrous.” You giggled, watching her do her own.

“I do try, love.” She may have been joking, but you had butterflies in your stomach regardless. Appetisers were placed in front of you, a trio of dips with different crudité and breads for dunking. Along side this was a small bowl of soup. It was a vibrant orange colour. Picking up your spoon, you tried some, soon pulling a face of disgust.

“Not to your taste?” The Master chortled, eating hers normally.

“I hate lentils.” You told her, moving the bowl aside and dipping the cucumber into some hummus. It was a light start to the meal, not that you minded. Thankfully, your auntie was talking to you now, telling you all about her life in retirement. You hardly noticed everything get cleared and the fresh cutlery get put down. The waiters went around putting the mains out, a seasonal roast. Who doesn’t love that? There were roasted rainbow carrots, large sprouts and parsnips. Along with the stuffing and crispy potato’s, there were two cuts of meat to choose from. After asking you, The Master put some on your plate before her own then sat back.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” She turned to you with a hint of amusement.

“Like what?”

“All soppy, every time I do something for you.” Her gaze softened as she looked at you, a genuine smile on her lips.

“Because I appreciate it.” You said simply, eating a small bite of your food. She beamed, giving your hand a small squeeze before turning to her own meal. The room was fairly quiet as people ate, apart from Beth of course. She was still going on with herself. Even her man looked tired of the constant word vomit. When finished, The Master leant over, her lips brushing your ear as she spoke.

“What happens now?” You shivered at the close proximity.

“Well i think they’re going to do speeches before dessert. Then I assume there will be dancing?” She nod at you, sitting back again. The plates were cleaned hastily, the room picking up again.

“So, O, how long have you known (y/n)?” Your aunt smiled at the blonde, but there was a sour feeling behind it.

“Over a year, we work together.” The Master lied, repeating what you had said earlier.

“Oh that’s lovely, we were just talking about their childhood.” She practically disregarded her, hands clasping together. You pressed your lips into a fine line, not having the best memories of your youth. “When they were little, they used to fight all the time. It was adorable.” Your auntie laughed, reminiscing happily. Beth looked over at you, smiling fakly. They were less than joyous memories, every family event was hell on earth. “They’ve always just been so different. Has (y/n) told you that Beth was a Pageant queen in London?” Your aunt gloated. The Master glanced at you before shaking her head. You rubbed at your face tiredly.

“She certainly hadn’t.”

“Oh yes! She won three years in a row. Oh I was so proud.” Beth grinned at her mother’s praise, still held up on her beauty queen title. “What was it you won, (y/n)? Best young uh…uhm…”

“It was just a junior writers competition.” You said quietly, head bowed in embarrassment. Beth snorted out a laugh, your chest tightening in shame.

“Oh yes that was it! You got your story published.”

“You did? That’s amazing.” The Master wrapped an arm around your shoulders, trying to bring you some comfort. You just scoffed.

“No it’s not.” Your voice was hardly above a whisper.

“She had one of those emo phases too. Oh they looked so silly next to each other. My Beth was in pink and (y/n) was all in black.” Both your Aunt and Beth were laughing, as you shrunk in on yourself.

“And remember when you had purple hair?” Beth jabbed, giggling into her hand. The Master kept her attention on you, rubbing your arm tenderly. Just when you thought that maybe she’d finished, Beth let out an excitable gasp. “You know what was the funniest phase you had?” You looked at her confused, unsure of where she was going with it. “That time you said you liked girls!” She cackled and you felt your heart drop. Your lips parted, mouth going dry instantly. “Don’t you remember mum?” Beth asked.

“Of course I do, that was a wild day. But she was just confused. Weren’t you dear? We don’t want to scare off your colleague.” Your aunt smiled at you, but you could see the unease in her eyes. Swallowing thickly, you nod slowly.

“I’m glad you’re not one of those at least. Disgusting.” Beth shivered as if repulsed, picking up her wine glass again.

“Yeah, thank god.” Your eyes started to sting with unshed tears, so you stood carefully and excused yourself. The master watched you make your exit, head shooting around to your cousin. She would have shot them, but knew you wouldn’t approve.

Icy winter air hit you as you stepped outside. You leant against the jagged brick wall, head falling back on it as you stared up at the darkening sky. Even though you tried, you couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Everything was ruined now, she knew your dirty little secret. A part of you that you hid from everyone, including yourself. Sliding down the wall, you balled up your fists, hitting your head a few times as your breathing increased in pace. You should never have come. You could hear the door opening, heels clicking as they came closer. Something pressed to your side but you didn’t look, not even when a hand came to land on your knee.

“(Y/n)..?” The Master spoke gently, as if worried she’d scare you. Not responding, she thumbed your cold skin softly, letting you have a moment. Brining your head forward, you inhaled weakly.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, wiping under your eyes harshly.

“Look at me, (y/n).” The Master ordered with an authoritative timbre. Nervously, you looked up at the blonde with watery eyes. She frowned, tilting your chin towards her and letting out a breath.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you’re going to think I’m disgusting.” You stuttered, sniffling and avoiding her intense, hazel eyes.

“What? What are you talking about?” She sounded puzzled, stroking your hair gingerly.

“Because of what she said-“

“Your cousin?” You nod at her, more tears seeping out the corner of your eyes. Seeing the distress you were in, The Master didn’t say another word. Instead, she pulled you into her warm embrace, arms encasing you protectively. You buried your face into the crook of her neck, deciding to worry about the repercussions later.

“Darling you have nothing to be sorry for.” She said sternly, running her fingers through your hair. “I know you said you didn’t get along. But you should told me how bad it was.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was being dramatic.” You admitted, nuzzling closer to her.

“Dramatic? They’re narcissistic, homophobic, pretentious assholes.” The Master spat, nails scratching against your scalp nicely. You gazed up at her.

“You don’t care?”

“About what?” She asked bemused, wiping your cheeks dry with faint movements.

“That I..like girls…” you struggled to get the words out, having an internal battle with yourself. The Master chuckled, holding your cheek tenderly.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been flirting with you for the past eighteen months. If anything, I’m happy.” Heat rose on your face, eyes widening.

“You have?” Your surprise made the woman laugh harder.

“Oh you’re cute. This is why you’re my favourite.” She simpered, twirling your hair. “Of course I have. And I’ve enjoyed every second of making you all red and flustered. It’s my favourite hobby.” Your heart was racing again, unable to take your eyes off of her. With a hum, she helped you to your feet, brushing off your dress.

“Thank you.” You smiled, making sure there was no dirt on your behind. You could still hear the party, a glass being clinked for attention. “They must be doing the speeches.” You commented, looking down and scuffing your heel against the stones. The dress slipped from your thigh, the slit leaving your leg out in the elements.

“I’m assuming we won’t miss much?”

“No. Just a bunch of ‘me me me’ coming from the bride and everyone boosting her ego.” You said, lip jutting out. The Master, ever confident, leant in close, her breath fanning your face.

“You taunt me, (y/n).” She spoke lowly, causing you to gulp.

“I do?” You asked, trying desperately not to look at her lips.

“You know you do. With your big, sad eyes and pouty lips.” Her thumb ran just under your bottom lip, causing them to part on instinct. “And this dress, leaving very little to the imagination.” Using her pointer finger, she traced the dip in the neckline. Goosebumps rose under her touch, your lip tucking between your teeth. She looked into your eyes smirking, her other hand slipping down your body to hold your hip.

“Tell me what else she’s said tonight.” The Master almost demanded, “because I know there’s more that you haven’t told me.”

“Promise me you won’t kill her?” You gave her your best puppy eyes, earning a reluctant nod. So, with a deep breath, you told her every insult that had been sent your way that day. With everything you said, you saw her temper rising, her hand tightened on your hip.

Her jaw was clenched,nostrils flaring slightly.

“Are you serious?” She spoke through gritted teeth, eyeing the door like a target.

“It’s fine-“

“It not fine, (y/n). She’s your family! It’s verbal abuse!” The Master was enraged, hand slipping into her pocket. “I don’t care, I’m going to turn her into a tiny doll, and stand on her until she’s just plastic dus-“ Thinking on the spot, your latched onto The Masters tie, yanking her forward and crashing your lips together. Dropping her TCE back into her blazer, she kissed back with fervour, holding your waist tightly. You wound your arms around her neck, drawing back a little.

“It’s fine. After tonight I’m not going to contact them for as long as possible.” You mumbled, happy that your spur of the moment decision had worked. The Master rested her forehead against your own, holding your cheek feebly. Loud clapping came from inside but you both paid no mind, occupied with each other.

“I hope you don’t mind me kissing you, just to take your mind off of killing people.” You said quickly, just in case you’d read the situation wrong, and she was only flirting with you for her own entertainment.

“Hm, I didn’t mind at all.” She said lowly, eyes dropping not so subtly. “But maybe I need you to distract me some more?” The Master suggested, voice dropping an octave. You smiled brightly, pressing your lips to hers once again. Her lips moved against yours flawlessly, hand snaking down your thigh and squeezing your soft flesh. Your hand found her nape, pulling her against your body, so she had you pinned to the wall. The Master almost growled, nipping on your bottom lip till they parted, your tongues pressing together. You moaned into the kiss, a hand sliding into her blazer and holding onto her waist. Your mind became hazy, consumed only by her. The Master revelled in the sounds you made, proud knowing it was because of her. You didn’t want it to end, chasing her lips as she pulled away. Pecking your lips a couple more times, The Master looked down at you simpering.

“I say, we go back in there hand in hand, get some cake. Have a dance, who cares about your stupid family? Then we leave and get you the hell away from them.” Liking her idea, you nod gleefully and placed your fingers together. “And if she says anything, I can’t promise I’ll be nice.” The Master told you straight, but you just leant up and kissed her cheek.

“I don’t care.”

———

Thankfully, the speeches were finished when you walked back into the room. On the stage, Beth was cutting the cake, cheering at a pitch far too high. The Master made sure your chairs were touching before sitting down, keeping an arm around your waist.

“I hope it’s chocolate.” You said absentmindedly, noticing people getting their dessert.

“If not, I’ll get you some later.” The Master was quick to say, making you smile.

“You’re so attentive.”

“Have you only just noticed?” She feigned offence, you just laughing and shook your head. Beth returned to the table, giving a slice to her mother and father. A waiter came around for the rest of the guests, making sure everyone got a piece. It was a pretty slice of cake, with white icing and red berries on the top. You were overjoyed to find it was a Black Forest cake. Excited, you tried some of the icing and felt your eyes light up.

“Be careful (y/n). Your emaciated body might shrivel up from all that sugar.” Beth said in a baby voice, pulling an overly cutesy face to add insult to injury. Clicking her tongue, The Master picked up her spoon.

“Jealousy is a nasty disease, Beth. I hope you get better soon.” Her false sympathy almost made you laugh, but you held it together. She sat there shocked, brows knitting together.

“As if I’d be jealous of that. I dont want to look like a boy!”

“And yet.” She begun, casting her eyes over to your cousin. “She’s more feminine than you’ll ever be. Especially with that attitude.” The Master ate some of her cake, tapping the spoon against her lips.

“Excuse me! You’re at my wedding!” Beth screeched, a few people looking over but not really noticing much amiss.

“Hm, you must be so sad that you got outdone on your special day.” The Master taunted, lip turning up as she could see red flashing up on the bride. Beth slammed her fist on the table, a few of the drinks sloshing over.

“I did not get outdone by that bony little skank!” You stopped mid bite, turning to her clearly hurt. Feeling you tense up, The Masters eyes went cold.

“Say that again.” She seethed, looking at the brunette with pure malice. “I dare you.” Beth shrunk back under her icy gaze, jaw trembling slightly as she went back to her own cake. Frowning, you turned your back to your supposed family.

“I can’t wait till we leave.” You murmured, checking the time on your phone. “But I wanna dance with you first.” The idea brought a smile back to your face, digging back into your food. The Master chuckled, watching as your lips wrapped around the spoon almost criminally.

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed off. You looked up at her and she almost groaned but swallowed it down.

“You’re going to kill me sweetheart.”

“I thought that was your job?” You giggled, pushing the now empty bowl away. Giving you a simple smile, The Master got distract by your aunt who had just sat down.

“You two missed the speeches! It’s a shame. They were lovely.” Clearly, she was slightly intoxicated now.

“I’m sure they were.” The master was hardly audible.

“You two are sat really close. Almost on top of each other?” Ignoring the drunk woman, you suddenly remembered something and let out a small gasp. Moving her fingers along your side, The Master looked down at you.

“Is everything alright?”

“I forgot, I kinda have a room here tonight. You know because I’m in the bridal party?” You explained. Blinking at you, she hummed in thought.

“Do you have to stay?”

“Well I suppose not, but it’s a lovely building and it would be a shame not to.” Glimpsing at her, you smiled and rested your head on her shoulder. “You’re my ‘plus one’ remember. Meaning it’s your room too.” That made the timelady grin, brushing your hair back tenderly.

“Then I guess that’s not so bad, but I wasn’t aware of this. I don’t have anything with me?” Pressing your cheek to her blazer, you shrugged with a vivacious smile.

“We can share don’t worry.”

“Oh? Aren’t you sweet.” The Master chuckled, stroking your cheek with the back of her hand. To your right, a noise of distaste could be heard very clearly.

“What are you doing?” Beth asked as if you had broken some sort of law. The Master looked at her, the girl moving back a bit.

“Talking?”

“Not that! That!” Beth waved her hands frantically, motioning to how The Master was holding you. There was a gaping pit in the bottom of your stomach, knowing it could only end badly.

“It’s called physical contact and affection. I know you must not get any, judging by the state of your husband.” The Master nod to the man by the bar, swaying from side to side. Beth looked too, cheeks puffing out sheepishly.

“Of course I do!”

“You seem very insecure about it.” The Master commented, bringing your head to rest on her again. It was as if she could sense your unease.

“I get all the affection I need, from my husband! My man! You two are just being weird!” Beth shrieked. To anyone else, it would seem like you were committing murder. Her over the top reactions were making people talk.

“May-haps you tell us why?” The Master was clearly bored.

“Because you’re both girls! Look at yourselves!” And you did, you both looked at each other with confusion. However, The Master simpered, allowing you to adjust and lean back against her chest. You stared at your cousin emotionlessly, letting out a breath as The Master put her hand on your bare thigh.

“Right?”

“Your point?” You both said at the same time, only causing more agitation from the bridezilla.

“It’s not natural! Not normal!” Beth preached.

“The only thing unnatural around here is you.” The Master shot back. “You should really get a refund from all those doctors.” You covered your mouth quickly, holding your laughter. Beth sat there with her mouth agape, staring dumbly. The Master just smirked, leaning down and pressing her lips to the side of your head. Your aunt, who had been watching the whole time, put her Prosecco down sloppily.

“You just kissed her.” She slurred, eyes narrowing in your direction. The Master just scoffed.

“That, was not a kiss.” She said, cupping your cheek and making you face her. You blushed as her lips met yours, kissing back shyly. The kiss was longer than necessary, not that you were complaining, but you felt the discomfort around you. When she pulled back, The Master smiled and looked at your aunt smugly.

“That was a kiss.” She bragged, standing and pulling you with her. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. We’re going to dance.”

“Together?” Your aunt still questioned somehow.

“Are you mentally slow?” The Master spat, sliding her hand back around your waist. They just stared. Rolling her eyes, the blonde clicked her tongue in anger.

“Yeah, exactly. You’re old and loveless, stuck with a husband who won’t even speak to you, and a daughter you live through vicariously. And even that disappoints you.” The Master was toying with fire, throwing everything back at your aunt, the same way you’d always been treated. “Don’t look at us, like we’re the ones doing something wrong. As if you haven’t been using her as your personal punching bag. I’d count yourselves lucky that she even came, that she’s even staying. And, after tonight, don’t bet on ever seeing her again.” She spat, taking you away from them and onto the dance floor.

———

The room was as luxurious as expected, neat and pristine. There was a large king-sized bed in the middle, with fresh white, linen sheets and a dark throw folded neatly at the bottom. With two mahogany tables on either side, one had a copper lamp, the other a bowl of mints and a phone for reception. On the left wall, there was a large window, with cream drapes and wooden shutters. On the right, a wardrobe and dressing table, matching to the rest of the maroon wood-work. Opposite the bed there was a large tv hung on the wall, a door next to it which lead to a bathroom. Your bags had been taken there, courtesy of the hotel staff.

“This is nice, you were right.” The Master nod, walking around and looking at the paintings dotted about. Crouching by your bag, you pulled out your pyjamas, plus a spare vest then walked over to her.

“Here, you can wear these.” You handed her the black plaid, loose pyjama pants along with a grey vest. She took them gratefully.

“Thanks love. Mind if I take the bathroom?” Once you had shook your head, she gave your nose an affectionate tap before going. After slipping out of your dress, you unclasped your bra, tossing both into the bag without care. Buttoning up the matching plaid shirt, you put on some cosy socks then perched on the end of the bed. It took a few minutes, but you took your hair out of its style and brushed out all the knots until it was smooth again. Taking the remote, you flicked through the limited options on the tv.

“Anything decent?” The Master asked, reappearing from the bathroom.

“Shrek?” You said, not recognising anything else on the list. Clearly, it was the only big production movie they had bought the rights to stream. Looking up, your face grew warm at what you saw. It was a rare sight, seeing The Master in pyjamas, but it was one you found yourself liking. The grey vest was tight, making your eyes fixate on less than savoury areas. Walking to stand in front of you, she tilted your chin up so your eyes met.

“Put whatever you like on, I know noise helps you relax.” The Master smiled, stroking your cheek before stepping away and going to the left side of the bed. Clicking play, you looked back at her, watching as she sat herself against the pillows. “Well, are you going to join me?” She tilted her head, reaching an arm out for you. Not needing to be told twice, you crawled over to her and lay snug to her side. The Master chuckled, brushing her fingers through your hair. You couldn’t help but stare up at the woman, doe eyes flittering between her eyes and her lips.

“Do you want something, love?” She asked rhetorically, nails scratching at your nape. Getting shy, you shook your head and rolled over. Again, she laughed at your behaviour, shuffling down and pressing herself against your back. Tentatively, her hand slid up your hip and under the matching shirt.

“Don’t turn away from me, I enjoy seeing your pretty face. Especially when you’re blushing.” She spoke confidently, fingers gliding along the skin of your stomach. You bit your lip timidly, gazing back at her. There was a blistering smile on her face, tugging you to lay on your back before her hand slipping out, landing on your front. “That’s better.” The Master muttered, leaning down and giving you a chaste kiss. A whine slipped past your lips.

“That wasn’t a kiss.” You almost pouted, hardly noticing when she began to play with the buttons on your shirt.

“Oh, that wasn’t enough for you?” She inquired playfully, to which you shook your head fiercely. Unable to resist, The Master captured your lips in a deeper kiss, your hands finding purchase on her shoulders. Your lips moved in conjunction perfectly, the movie being drowned out in the background. She popped the bottom three buttons open, hand slithering back under the fabric. You gasped as her hand got higher, allowing The Blonde to escalate the kiss. A moan escaped as your tongues met, your fingers threading through her hair and tugging at it almost desperately. Somehow, she pulled back, trailing kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck. Your head fell back as she nipped at the skin, leaving red marks in their wake.

“Such a tease.” She breathed, sinking her teeth into the sensitive area and leaving a dark bruise. Hissing in both pain and pleasure, you keened into her touch.

“Cute.” The Master smiled, looking down at you, proud of the state she had left you in. Carefully, she moved the both of you under the covers. Hooking her hands under your arms, she pulled you up onto the her chest and wrapped you in her warm embrace. You relaxed instantaneously, pressing your nose into the crook of her neck.

“Promise me you won’t kill Beth in the middle of the night?” You mumbled tiredly, hugging her waist comfortably. The Master huffed, drawing shapes onto your back.

“Fine. But only because I can’t bear the thought of leaving you.” Her response made you smile fondly, eyes closing feeling more content now. Falling silent, your mind started to drift off as you listened to the TV. Lowering the volume, The Master left it playing as you slept, making sure the duvet was shielding you from the cold. Having you sleep in her arms was a feeling she could definitely enjoy every night. With you, maybe she could even find the safety to fall asleep herself.

[vigilxnte-shit]

anxiety || matt murdock x reader

tuna-tober day 9

summary: inside out 2

word count: 815

warnings: BYE im finishing this half asleep at one am with 50 mg of zoloft in my system it’s not edited at all and also there is obviously anxiety mentions i might delete this in the morning okay bye 

a/n: largely based on my own experiences with anxiety so i hope i didn’t make it too specific!

this is an 18+ blog. minors dni. || masterlist

it started with your sleep schedule. 

you’d never been an early riser, staying up until the sunlight since you had learned how to read when you were six, always one to prefer the quiet and the dark to invasive sunlight and early-morning birdsong. the night had become a friend, a peaceful state in which you got to just be. you’d survived high school on four hours of sleep a night- that was how much you loved your quiet hours. 

but you weren’t in high school anymore. one four-hour night now rendered you a dysfunctioning zombie, and that was the most sleep you’d gotten in a single night this week. you’d spent your time at the office blinking a lot and picking up a fresh coffee cup every two hours. foggy had needed to take your fourth brew out of your hands, insisting he could practically hear your heartbeat, and it was about to jump out of your chest at this acceleration rate. 

you had walked home with matt, as per usual, hand in his as you “guided” him through the streets. he was good at keeping up the blind act, and you used that to zero in. you watched him tap his cane back and forth, nodded along to his stories, and threw in the occasional “yeah.” it was almost embarrassing, the way he was leading you instead, but your mind was not on the new york sidewalk with him. 

“is everything alright?” he’d asked at dinner, concern written in his sightless eyes. you’d just nodded and taken your next bite, taking your time chewing. 

“just a little anxious, is all.” 

he’d already known that. it was almost too obvious, actually, between the lack of sleep and the zoning out and the rising heart rate, but he hadn’t wanted to press. instead, he’d left for patrol with the best reassurances he could give you: that he’d be safe and back before you knew it, that he loved you and that he couldn’t wait to be back in your bed, but when he snuck out the window, the last shreds of your sanity clung to the tails of his black mask. when the devil left, the remaining demons were always harder to deal with. 

“do they hate me?” you thought. “karen and foggy. do they actually like me or do they just tolerate my presence for matt?” no, you reminded yourself, they’re my friends, they at least like me…

and the flood gates were opened. 

did they actually like you, or was it just courtesy? did you come up in conversations over beer at josies, and if you did, was it in a positive light? did they think you were incompetent? you certainly thought so- the way you still couldn’t figure out legal strategy, the way your messed up sleep patterns sometimes had you file things incorrectly. maybe you had answered a call incorrectly. wait, the phone lines had gone down a couple of days ago- maybe it was a miscommunication. they wouldn’t hold that against you, right? actually, on that note, had those been plugged in again properly? what if there was a fault in the wire? was the office on fire? no. that was ridiculous. you could check in the morning…you could call matt. he could stop by and check. of course you could, he’d be more than happy to, because he loved you.

…right?

that was the thought you couldn’t move past. the one that kept you awake, staring at your ceiling, analyzing every detail of every interaction you and matt had recently shared. he didn’t seem off, at least not in any typical matt sense, but maybe he was hiding it. how could he ever love someone who talked so much, who thought too much, who-

“sweetheart.” 

his low, gravelly voice instantly pulled you out of your stupor. 

“matty?” you asked softly. “you’re back early.” 

“couldn’t leave,” he admitted. “i’ve been outside the window. didn’t like how fast you were breathing.”

that was all he had to say. that was matt speak for “i know you need me”. you watched as he slowly changed, stripping down as casual as ever before pulling on a clean pair of boxers and jumping in bed with you. 

without a word, you snuggled up to his chest. he held you close against him, his hand cupping your skull in a protective gesture. 

“we gotta figure this out,” he said softly. “get you some meds, or a therapist, or something.” 

you nodded. you didn’t have the energy for anything else. 

with a smile and a soft kiss to your temple, he whispered to you. 

“close your eyes. let’s rest that pretty head, yeah? we’ll talk about this in the morning.” 

but his sentence was only heard by the surrounding air, filled with the sounds of your even breath. 

the best medicine for your racing heart was his.

[eringobragh420]

💜 Pairing: Dexter Lumis x f!Reader 💜 Summary: Reader catches her panty thief in the act. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Panty-sniffing, violation of privacy, slight dirty talk, oral (f receiving), cum 18+ 💜 Notes: Find the WWE Kinklist here. Masterlist here. 💜 Taglist: If you’d like to be added, please click here!  💜 Requested By: @laserpointeronasubmarine. Hope you enjoy!

She’d never been so pissed off in her life. Having her match pulled from the show at the last minute to make more room for more mindless, repetitive Judgment Day drivel. She’d worked her ass off in The Dungeon with Natalya and TJ, per Triple H’s request, and she’d improved by miles, per Triple H’s compliments. But here she was—no match to speak of, per Triple H’s decision. As she headed down the hall toward the locker room, she glanced down at her gear, blood boiling to near combustion. A deep emerald velvet two piece that left as little as possible to the imagination—the bustier cups were cut low on her breasts, and the seat of her shorts were hemmed up to accent her trim hips and an ass she’d killed herself to build—that now may never be seen by anyone other than the people milling about backstage. She’d made the damn thing herself and had been excited to show it off, but no—thanks to Triple fucking H. Rolling her eyes, she began to remove the matching green velvet fingerless gloves from her hands as she shouldered open the locker room door. She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening, fingers freezing.

A man was squatting beside one of her duffel bags, the one she kept her dirty clothes in. Most of his head was shaved save for the long blonde dreads on top, which were pulled back in a thick bun at the crown, and she didn’t need him to turn around to know exactly who he was. An elbow on his knee, he held a lacy, red material to his nose, sliding his eyes to her over his shoulder seemingly in slow motion. His intense crystalline irises met hers, ominous black X painted on his forehead, and it was almost like an invisible force shoving her back, warning her do not enter, go back the way you came, point of no return. But her mama didn’t raise no quitter—she’d never backed down from anyone in her life, men included, and she wasn’t about to start now. 

Suddenly it all made sense. For the past few weeks, after unpacking following a trip, she’d discovered she was short exactly one pair of panties. Chalking it up to being clumsy or miscounting, she hadn’t thought much about it. Now here sat Dexter Lumis—or was it Mercy?—a pair of her panties, used panties, she might add, pressed to his face, those sharp sapphires drilling a hole through her soul. He ascended to full height slowly, gaze never leaving her, and her panties leisurely came away from his nose, though he maintained possession of them at his side. His transgression hung heavily in the air between them, and she had to make a quick decision about whether or not it was a big deal, and if it was, how big of a deal was it?

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside the locker room and leaned back against the door until it closed. She reached across her chest to turn the lock. “So you’re the panty thief,” she said. Dexter’s head tilted just a bit. “You thought I wouldn’t notice my underwear missing?” She started toward him, his icy gaze examining her entire body from head to toe, stopping on her eyes. “It’s no big deal,” she shrugged, “I own a ton. Most girls collect shoes, I collect lace and satin and thongs.” Dexter remained quiet, still, the aforementioned lace hanging from his hand. “But now I have to wonder …” She was within inches of him now, and he towered over her in a tight black t-shirt, equally tight gray jeans with a black belt, and black combat boots. She hadn’t been familiar with Dexter’s game until he was right in front of her, a pair of her unmentionables in his grasp. His muscles were huge, toned, tattoos decorating his arms, and fuck, he smelled so good for someone who looked like they hadn’t showered in days. She bit her lip. “… what you do with them?”

Dexter’s lucid eyes searched her face, head tilting the opposite direction. The atmosphere was heavy around them, the air conditioning hummed from a nearby vent, and there were a few broken bulbs in the overhead lights, causing a few of them to flicker on and off. He sluggishly lifted the panties in question to his nose again, inhaling long and deep, eyes closing, and the much smaller woman in front of him briefly lost her breath. As he audibly sniffed her lacy underwear, the fingers of Dexter’s free hand deftly unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. She watched his eyes open and her panties descend from his nose to his jeans, disappearing within, and then he started stroking himself.

“Oh, you’re a dirty boy,” she purred, casually closing the space between them, hoping he didn’t notice her knees wobble or her thighs quiver. “Do you do this with other girls?” Dexter shook his head, still lazily jerking his cock. “Just me?” A redundant question, but something inside her just wanted the validation that this fearsome, yet undeniably provocative, man was evidently obsessed with her. He nodded in response.

“Well, I think it’s your lucky day,” she whispered. She met his eyes briefly before sauntering over to her designated locker at the end of the row. “My match just got canceled for no good goddamn reason,” she went on, taking a seat on the bench so she could remove her glittering white boots. “And since you owe me for all the underwear you’ve been stealing—”

Dexter was suddenly standing directly in front of her, and he removed his hand from his jeans—only his hand—before dropping to his knees, his bones quietly thumping on the hard floor. His radiant eyes remained locked on her, weighing her down, filling her pussy, and suddenly she was fighting for oxygen again. A pair of coarse thumbs grazed along her satiny thighs, and she was too enchanted by his gaze to notice when he hooked his thumbs under her shorts or when she lifted her hips to assist him in pulling them leisurely down her legs, over her boots, and then over his shoulder. Her heart hammered and adrenaline shot through her veins, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why until Dexter began to lower. 

Abruptly coming back to herself, she watched as he pushed her thighs apart, and she felt a cool rush of air along her bare, soaking slit. He finally severed their eye contact, focus falling to her dripping pussy, and she gasped when he licked his lips a mere second before lunging at her cunt like he would devour her whole, but stopped short of actual contact. She heard him sniff her, the tip of his nose kissing her sensitive skin, and she leered down at him with a bite to her bottom lip, watching him swipe his nose between her folds. His hot tongue slithered out of his mouth—she would swear later that it was forked in two—slipping inside her, and her head fell back as warmth spread throughout her body.

“Fucking hell,” she whispered, lasting only a moment before she had to look down again. Those beryl eyes were once more fixed on her face, but his tongue was absolutely unhinged against and around her clit, sinking inside her pulsing opening. He ate like he hadn’t in days, indecent sounds coming from both his mouth and her pussy when he snuck a finger deep within her heat, pumping in and out several times before adding a second.

“Christ,” she whimpered, rolling her hips, riding his face. “I’m gonna cum … don’t you fucking stop. Don’t stop …” She clutched his dreads, driving his tongue further into her cunt, and she erupted into his mouth, body wracked with shudders as Dexter drank every drop of her sticky cream.

When he finished, he pulled away, sitting back on his legs, and his hand coated with her cum disappeared inside his jeans where he’d left her panties. His eyes fell closed briefly, muscles twitching, tattoos dancing, as he jerked his cock.

“Take it out,” she whispered wantonly. “I wanna watch.”

The cerulean irises blinked open, and they weren’t so much sapphire anymore as they were obsidian, and the dirty boy also happened to be a good boy—he lifted his thick cock out of his jeans, no underwear in sight, her panties wrapped around his length. He resumed stroking, the red lace moving with his hand, and she had no choice but to dip her own fingers within her drenched pussy because Jesus Christ, this was the hottest thing she’d ever seen in her life. His hand sped up instantly, and she actually heard a moan resonate from deep inside his chiseled chest. She was sensitive enough and not far removed from her previous orgasm, so it wasn’t difficult getting there again as she played with her clit while watching her own personal jerk off show.

He yanked her panties off his cock without warning, aimed, and came all over the dainty lace, painting the crimson material in his pearly essence. He strangled the head of his dick to be sure every drop of cum had been spent before standing. He glanced at her, fierce gaze flashing over her half naked body, and he turned, heading for the door. He dropped the soiled underwear into her bag of clean clothes, likely contaminating other items, and he was buckling his belt as he strolled out of the locker room, having never spoken a single word.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A 7-Part Book Development Template

Take your story from a vague book idea to an impactful first draft.

PART 1: Concept Development

A great story is built on a great premise.

This exercise is meant to help you develop a strong foundation for your story.

This story follows [name + brief character bio]. Their life changes/story begins when [inciting incident]. This causes [problem]. They wish to [goal] but are held back by [antagonistic forces].

CHARACTER "This story follows [name + brief character bio]"

Brief description of character (occupation, skills, lifestyle, etc.):

Emotional trait or problem:

PLOT "When [inciting incident], this causes [problem]"

Inciting incident:

Problem:

GOAL "They wish to [goal]"

Goal:

ANTAGONIST "Held back by [antagonistic forces]"

Internal antagonist:

External antagonist:

PART 2: The Protagonist

After writing the premise of your story, it’s time to focus on your protagonist.

This exercise will help you sketch out the fundamentals of your main character.

Five (possibly) positive qualities:

Five (possibly) negative qualities:

Personality type:

Aspirations and goals:

Belief system (written as ‘I believe…’ statements):

Significant life events & backstory:

Skills:

Appearance:

Mannerisms, body language, speaking style:

What is their character arc in the story? How do they change and grow?

PART 3: The Cast

Behind every strong protagonist is a strong supporting cast. This exercise will help you flesh out the key relationships in your protagonist’s life.

What important relationships were a part of the protagonist's past?

Who were they?

Their influences on the protagonist?

What happened to the relationship/s?

What important relationships are a part of the protagonist's life now?

Who were they?

Their influences on the protagonist?

What will happen to the relationship/s?

Select at least one and at most 3 important relationships to focus on developing. What are their progressions?

Relationship #1:

Relationship #2:

Relationship #3:

PART 4: The World

An impactful setting should put pressure on the character to grow. This exercise will help you identify how your setting can accomplish this.

Where and when is the story set?

What other settings will we visit in the story? List them here.

What does the main setting look like?

What is the climate and weather like?

Imagery associated with the setting?

What are the people like?

What does a day-to-day for this place look like? Describe it in a few sentences.

What challenges does this setting present? What opportunities?

How long has the protagonist been here? How do they feel about it?

PART 5: The Plot

This exercise helps you define your plot using the popular 3-act structure method.

Identify the 5 key points on the timeline:

Inciting incident:

Plot point #1:

Midpoint:

Plot point #2:

Climax:

PART 6: Form, Style & Voice

If a book’s structure is its walls, its voice and style is the interior design that makes the book truly unique. This is an exercise to help you nail down how this particular book will be told.

DEVELOPING THE BOOK’S FORM

POV:

Tense:

Narrator:

Voice and tone:

Emotional core:

What are the primary emotions in this piece?

Atmosphere and mood?

DEVELOPING YOUR VOICE

Identify 3 books whose style or voice is similar to what you want:

Read a few pages from each and describe what they do specifically:

Write a scene from your character’s voice. How close is it to hitting the mark? What do you wish it did differently?

PART 7: The Writing Plan

This exercise will help you determine the logistics of your writing process, so that you can finish your first draft.

What’s your project timeline?

Set a deadline for finishing your first draft.

To complete your book, how many words do you need to write per:

Week:

Month:

Source ⚜ More: Writing Worksheets & Templates ⚜ 100 Sensory Words Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ 170 Quirks ⚜ 600+ Personality Traits

[m00nchildwrites]

So as i've been playing the game for the past 15 days (yes, I'm a newer player), I have noticed that you can tell a lot about each of the guys by how they treat you and how they behave while you're playing Kitty cards.

So I am going to break it down for you for each of the 4 guys. (Sorry, Caleb fans, he doesn't count here.) I'm going to talk about their playing styles and what that says about what kind of boyfriend they would be.

☆Disclaimer, a lot of this is going to be my interpretation and how they're words and actions make me feel so if this resonates with you cool, if it doesn't respect it and move on.☆

That said, let's do this.

~~~~~~~

Sylus:

• So when I first met this man, I thought he was going to be a super controlling toxic sort of guy. And to be fair, first, impressions weren't great, okay, bud.

•HOWEVER this man is so whipped and not in a ew Gross, give me space kinda way, but in a yummy, Yes, please let me sink my teeth into you kind of way.... just me? Oh ok. ANYWAY~

• He is a big softy when it comes to MC. And it is so sweet, I actually really adore Sylus. Let me explain.

• while you guys are playing the kitty card game, if you pay attention, Sylas will intentionally throw the game in your favor.

• at first I thought that it was just a fluke, but it's not. He does it all the time, so if you pay attention, he will purposely put kitty cards in cups where he does not get the double points where all the other players in the game would put they're kitty cards in the matching color cups because the points are doubled.

• this intentional action is even recognized by our character, MC, because Sylas responds to- what I'm guessing is maybe a face expression that she gives him like: What are you doing? And he says, a comment along the lines of basically, "don't worry about it. I've got a plan."

• ordinarily, somebody purposely losing, just so that I can win to try to impress me, or something would actually like piss me off. It's kind of like you don't think that I have a capability of winning on my own, or you don't respect me enough to play fairly with me and give me a chance to learn?? Like I wouldn't like that kind of thing. However, the way that he goes about it is actually insanely sweet.

• i had to really pay attention because this kept happening, and I'm an avid card player in real life...So I was like, why are they making this character do this? None of the other ones do this, like he does?...It took some time, but I also picked up him making other comments that alluded to the fact that he's doing this intentionally. Just so that we can win, and he even tells us why.

• so other than purposely, putting cards into cups to give himself less points. He also throughout the game, is constantly reassuring us and trying to motivate us and cheer us up. He's basically acting like a super subtle Hype man the whole time.

• And at one point, he even makes a comment about how, basically, his favorite part is seeing our face light up when we win.

• And that's just- don't you just want to squeeze him?¿!?!

• my heart is aching in my chest because this man is not real.

• so yes, he intentionally throws the game most of the time.

• again- I've only been playing this game for 15 days, but I have played Kitty cards with all of the players, All 3 times per week, and it's been 3 weeks now because of the way that my days landed. So that's 9 times that I've played the cards with each character, and this is a pattern that has emerged with him. I have only lost against him by a large margin One time. Every other time that I have lost, it's been by less than five points and most of the time by one or two points.

•He will lose to you, but it's going to be a close match, and he's going to do it in a very subtle way that you will not catch if you don't pay attention. because he respects us, but he also is madly in love with us, and that is the cutest thing on the freaking planet, and we must protect this man.

~~~~~~~

Xavier:

• so I want to preface this to say that I think Xavier is an absolutely adorable teddy bear of a character, and I adore him.

•HOWEVER he would absolutely piss me off if I was actually playing cards with him in real life, and I would probably end up breaking up with him. That's how bad this is. So let me just explain why.

• first of all, other characters kind of allude to the fact that the idea of playing Kitty cards is probably not their idea of fun but they're doing it because we want to play, okay? And I get that, however, the other guys humor us genuinely and actually play the game. Xavier is humoring us by like the thread of tiniest threads. And he's not even trying to act like he's enjoying himself.

• i get that a major thing about his character is that he's super tired all the time and probably has Narcolepsy and needs some serious medication. Like i'm genuinely glad that this guy doesn't seem to drive and just takes public transportation because he'd probably kill somebody falling asleep behind the wheel, let's be honest. I am concerned for this man's health.

• that said, if he is trying to spend time with his girlfriend, which we're supposed to be, or a love interest at the very least, and he is humoring us through playing this game that we really want to play with him, and clearly our character is taking it seriously- the dude's not even going to try to not fall asleep? What?! Dude, I can understand like every once in a while...It's really late and you've been up working or whatever it is that you're doing in your life and you nod off in a game, but he nods off like 2 or 3 times a round. Like it's excessive. Wtf bro drink some coffee. Get some meds!

• on top of that, his overall word choice in how he talks to us during the game. Clearly, the guy can't even be bothered to pretend to care about the game.

• i mean, every time you play with him. He says that we should go first because he can't even remember the rules.

• Like my dude, you're falling asleep on yourself and drooling on your sweater, and you can't remember the rules of a game, though we play three times every single week. Are you 80 and possibly suffering from dementia??? Or are we just that damn boring to you? And if that's the case, why the heck are you with us? *eyebrow twitch*

• and before everybody who adores Xavier starts coming from my neck, okay. In a real relationship, this would not fly. In a real relationship, you would want to show interest in your significant others' interests, even if those interests are not your interests, that's what you do. That's how you behave in a healthy relationship.

• so as far as the writing goes for Xavier's character in this particular instance, I don't know if they're just riding the the guy has narcolepsy train a little too hard or writing the whole dude is super laid back and passive thing too hard, but it's like way too much of all of it together, and it ends up equalling a whole big lot of negative.

• like I adore Xavier and I really, really, really want to like him because I think he's a sweet pea, but this particular thing makes me not like him. Kinda turned me off his whole in game story tbh. (Fandom Xavier could get it any day of the week btw)

• and because of that, if this was the real world situation, I would absolutely dump Xavier.

• and then he would cry, and I would feel like a terrible person, but it is what it is.

• (please don't cry, Xavier. You'll break my heart.)

~~~~~~~

Zayne:

• Zayne Zayne Zayne. What can I say about Zayne? In the real world, Zayne is probably my ideal type. (And this is coming from a Rafayel fangirl. Ugh, tbh they may be tied. It's too hard to choose, tbh.)

• Zayne's character here while playing Kitty cards is the perfect example of how you would want your boyfriend to act when you asked him to do an activity with you. That very clearly is probably not his usual cup of tea, and not something that he would ever do on his own, but he's doing it. He's humoring you and he's enjoying himself because you are enjoying yourself. Zayne is perfect.

• I also love Zayne because he's actually playing the game. He doesn't throw the game completely. Like Sylas does, which would probably get on my nerves a little bit even though the way he does, it is good.

• Zayne is not going to disrespect you by not giving his all. He's gonna play the game and if he beats you, it's gonna be fairly and if you beat him, it's going to be fairly.

• However, throughout the whole thing, he is still going to be playfully teasing you.

• He will also be motivating you to do well, and if you get upset, he's going to comfort you in all the right ways. With that gentle guiding hand that is so very Zayne.

• this man is seriously a treasure.

• however, like Sylus, he's also super whipped for us. All that we have to do is get MC to bat her pretty eyelashes and to pout about how her cards are bad and just like that, he offers to trade you. He offers 2 cards from his hand for 1 card from your hand.

• in fact, he's so whipped that if we pout good enough, he will do this trade even when we have no cards in our hand and literally just give us his two cards. Any two cards from his hand that we want. And there seems to be no limit to the amount of times that you can do this in a round with him. He literally gives you the opportunity to do it almost every single turn.

• in that regard, I feel like he would be an excellent boyfriend type to play cards with because for those of us who are competitive like myself- He's going to play against you fairly and respectfully.

• and for those of us who hate losing or are excellent pouty brats, you know who you are, he will let you pick any 2 cards from his hand at the drop of a hat. Because he is that much of a sweetheart and just wants us happy no matter what.

• let me repeat. I freakin love Zayne.

~~~~~~~

Rafayel:

• I saved my favorite for last because, in my opinion, Rafayel is the type of boyfriend that I would have the most fun playing games with, and here's why.

• the man absolutely hates cats. First of all, which makes some pretty hilarious commentary throughout the game. I am a cat person. I've always said that I don't trust people who don't like cats, but he is a fish and that shit's hilarious, so we will let it slide.

• he is going to play the game and he is going to take that shit seriously.

• the man doesn't even like playing Kitty cards and literally says that kitty cards haunt his nightmares at different points in the game café and in messages, BUT-

• That don't matter 'cause when you get this man sat down to play this kitty card game, he is going to pull out all of the stops to absolutely whip our asses and I love him for it.

• this man is bratty. He is pouty. And when it comes to card games, this man is out for blood.

• in fact, if you don't pay attention, he will try to cheat right under your nose. He has 0 shame. He is in it to win it, so be ready.

• when you catch him, it is Flippin' Hilarious. He's so pouty that he didn't get away with it, but that doesn't matter cuz his head is in the game and you're going down.

• no way in hell is he is going to trade any of his cards for yours. You get what you get.

• he will just dust himself off change tactics and go for blood.

•He will still pout about you catching him even in the café, which is a favorite interaction of mine. He is too funny. I feel like I'd always be laughing with him. ANYWAY-

• absolutely, not, not, no. Pouting is not gonna make him go easier on you. You asked him to play this game, and now you're going to play it FOR REAL.

• Fall asleep playing a game that you asked him to play to spend time with him?¿ Are you insane? He is offended at even the suggestion.

• if you play the version of the game that has the specialty cards, expect absolute god of war mentality. He's gonna be throwing down special cards after special card and your butt's gonna be so frozen. You won't be able to lay down a single number card or specialty card, and he is going to be preening like a peacock the whole time.

• purposely, lose a game just so that you can win. Absolutely. Freaking, not, are you kidding me? How dare you suggest it?! if this man gets a card and it matches the color of one of those cups, and he can get him some double points, you best believe that he is playing it. And he is maniacally cackling at your pouty face when he does.

•Our fishie is so eager to win that he actually plays...not that well. (I'm sorry Rafy) But the man will literally put a wrong color card into the wrong color cups, get 0 pts for it just so you can't use the cup. The first time he did that I thought, "weird move but ok, maybe the game is random" but no. He did it again and then smuggly said "It's all part of my plan." I was floored. I was flabbergasted. And then I died laughing. He is such a competitive brat. Mom, I love him.

• this game might not be his cup of tea, but he's gonna damn well be the best at it.

• you want him to go easy on you? Absolutely, not that is laughable. You are a perfectly strong woman capable of whooping his ass, and he's going to prove it to you by making you do so when he's trying his best.

• to not do so would be to disrespect you outright in this man's eyes and he is not about that game. He thinks you are a badass. He knows you are a badass, and he's going to show YOU that you're a badass, because you're going to beat him whenever he is trying his hardest and he's going to prove it to you.

• if he wins, he is going to be playfully and teasingly braggie about it, but at the same time, he is going to comfort, you and tell you that you'll do better next time. Why will you do better next time? Because he is going to give you no choice but to improve your skills each time you'll play.

• if you beat him, he's going to be convinced that the cats are out to get him in a playful, funny way... maybe, maybe he's serious. And he is going to pout, and trick you into agreeing to go out to dinner with him in order to make him feel better. Once you agree, He immediately shows the poutiness was all on act, and he actually enjoyed himself and just wants to spend more time with you.

• because in the end, as ruthless of a player as Rafayel, is he actually really doesn't care if he wins or loses in the end.

• that is probably the biggest surprise hidden thing about his character thay I learned from him playing cards with us. In all of the interactions with him in the kitty card game is the hidden reality that he doesn't really care if he wins or loses.

•he's going to go the extra 10000 percent and be the most competitive player for you to play against so that you can actually truly play the game, test your skills, and get better at a game you love. And not just have it handed to you or be stuck obviously playing with somebody who is just humoring you and not even enjoying themselves. Raphael would place a hand on his chest in shock at the suggestion, or the idea that somebody would do that to you, this man would never disrespect you in that way.

• he's just putting on the act of taking it super seriously, because you love the game and he's not just going to just humor you. No, you deserve more rhan to just be humored. You deswrve the best. You deserve his best.

• you love this game. You wanna play this game? He's going to give you the best possible competitor that you could ever have and ever dream for.

• this man deserves an oscar in the best way.

• because in truth, the game doesn't matter to him, He's just happy to be around you like a golden retriever, and taking him to dinner afterwards, if he loses is really him winning anyways. Seeing you smiling and happy is a win.

~~~~~~~

•Protect this adorable fishy, please.

•(*slams hand on Kitty card table* Marry me Rafayel.)

I hope you guys enjoyed my observations and head cannons and interpretations of the lovely guys from Love and Deep Space.

Let me know what you think in the Reblogs, in the tags or on a comment. I'm curious to know if anyone else has been as observant to the scripted interactions as I have been, or am I just that obsessed.

[judesmoonbeauty]

IkeVil Act 2 Prologue Thoughts & Theories

This will contain spoilers, and some 18+ remarks at the end, so MDNI. Please see under the cut. As usual, these are just my thoughts and feelings.This is a word salad. And not that this is important or anything, but I was totally listening to Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake while writing this.

My first thought is: That's it?! With the Act 1 prologue being as long as it is, and even with other IkeSeries games like Pri, I felt it was too short. I was expecting and wanting more. Perhaps, Cybird will release more later, but I doubt it. Seems that they are keeping Vogel underwraps as much as they can. Less is more, maybe that's what they were thinking?

Next: The spotlight is on Vogel (as it should be), since they're apparently debuting with Roger's route. We're excited to meet them, still I didn't like that other than Victor and Harry (with his two lines of actual dialogue), no other Crown members had any lines. Their sprites just pop up (sans William because he's away per Victor), to show that they were present. Where is that amazing stare-off that went down in Roger's PV?

Tell me this wasn't it! Hopefully, we get more of their first meeting within the first chapter of each of their main stories. Which leads me to......

When Act 2 Takes Place: It takes place a week after Kate's tenure of being the Fairytale Keeper begins, and honestly, I LOVE that. We need a change of pace. Now, don’t get me twisted, there's nothing wrong with seeing her start her journey from the very beginning, but consider:

Act 2 is supposed to delve deeper into the topic of the Curse itself from what I understand. If that's the case, we need to move things along. It would make storytelling easier (I feel), if Kate has already spent a week with the villains and isn't completely ignorant about curses.

Also, we're moving further along in the routes, which tend to become progressively darker with each route passing (my opinion), not starting from the day after she arrives at the Castle will allow the writers to delve deeper into things, and give us more chapters for - hopefully - more lore.

I mean when Roger's route finally releases, I'd expect maybe some flashbacks in chapter one of the night after Kate bumps into them on their mission, and then she agrees to be his assistant. I don't personally want an entire chapter or three of that, and I would love to see Kate already with a week's worth of experience of working with Jude & Ellis (when Jude's route releases). I want her to be someone who is already capable, not stumbling around with (How do I prove myself?), we already know how she needs to do this, as she's demonstrated in their events. Let's skip that and get to the good stuff. Now about the new meat on the market.....

Darius: Well, we all know that we can't trust him, and he's super interested in William for some reason. I'd love to see that meeting happen. His disappointed face made me chuckle when he was told that William was away, and you can clearly tell that he isn't a fan of Victor. WHY?? Is it the scones? Is it because Victor keeps his precious Cursed babies safe from those who may try to destroy his family? Can't wait for the explanation, because as Victor has said in the past, he doesn't want his time with Crown to end, and Darius seems like the one who is going to end it. I know Darius hasn't done anything yet, but I feel like I need to say this: Don't be mean to Vivi!

He seems to be focused on recruiting other cursed members into his "family", and his vision of the cursed and non-cursed joing hands together and work alongside each other (so he says).

He seems to be the big-bad (Gilbert tragic backstory vibes from this one?), I could be wrong, but that's what my gut tells me. I mean they all have one, but I feel like his is going to be twisted. A type that I am weak for.....so I am trying not to look at him at all.

Anyways....He's certainly angelic looking, and because he's wearing such an obviously painted smile, I would like to see him irked (not that I hate his character or anything), I just think it'd be funny as hell to see a blood vessel pop up on his forehead.

Nica: Right, Nica is gorgeous and he is the one I look forward to the most out of the three. His sprite has teeth when it's a full smile (congrats, my man), and a part from him making a comment that he's happy that Kate is present because he doesn't want to be stuck with a bunch of guys, he's very sharp.

He discerned by himself the real reason why she was at the castle. Also, he seems to love money and power....my other weaknesses are men who enjoy those things (stares at Jude & Silvio).....he doesn't seem to have a tyrant attitude, but I look forward to learning more about him.

Also, I have a theory I believe he may be involved with Roger's betrayal of Ellis' cursed predecessor. In Roger's main route preview:

Roger: Oh, me and…..this person……We aren’t friends. This person and I are strangers.

Mysterious Youth: ….Thank you. - “That’s enough”. (screen shakes)

Now, this could be Ring, but I think it's Nica also because of the relationship chart. I re-read the relationship chart. .

So, it'll be interesting to see how this plays out and how off I am. On to our darling......

Ring: Beloved, sweet, cold, blunt and Disney Princess Ring. He is the next villain I look forward to the most. I mean, a shared cursed ability with your twin? Moody emo vibes? Adorably quiet and strong? Please, I love him and want to cuddle him. Not to mention that skin-tight, black turtle neck....yummy. A part from this, Ring doesn't seem to like making speculations based on limited information, and I appreciate that about him. I think it's also notable that is very upfront with everyone at Crown, that if they try to harm Vogel, he won't sit quietly. Love a man of action. My question is: Why is he Darius' puppet, but not Nica? Ok, last but not least......

Sprite Designs: As usual, Nana-sensei has incorporated symbolism of their fairytale group into their clothing with lots of sharp edges. Personally, I love her art style over all, I think it's beautiful. Of note, Darius has a feather as his belt buckle and I quite like that. His brooch on his neck is the recognizable symbol of Vogel (seems like a swan's head with feathers to me), and the brooch on his floofy coat looks like the face of a swan staring at me. *Ahem* And I think his little neck window could be bigger....just saying.

Nica & Ring both have identical tassels, although they are different colors. One of their tassels likewise feature the symbol of Vogel, but the other looks like cross-hatch marks(?) Feathers(?). They apparently share the same curse, perhaps it represents their shared cursed since they are connected as twins??

They also share swan-faced holster clasps. The one on Nica holds his gun holster, and Ring's holds a book holster (?).....it looks like a book holster. Is it a book about flowers? I mean, it could be a snack pouch, but really it looks like a book holster to me. Just saying.....

Last, but not least, Nica's rings. My first thought: That's hot as hell. Next thought: Shit it's going to hurt like hell when he fingers Kate. This entire time I've been worried over William's and Jude's long ass fingernails cutting Kate up when they enter her, but this this amount of rings (assuming he doesn't remove them), that's going to scrape her so much inside. They're like a toture device.....wait.....maybe he's a sadist too? Oohh, yay if he is! Either way, he is a fan a jewelry.

Well, that's it. There's a ton more that I could write about, but I'm sleepy and I'm rambling.

[Master Lists]