#and they insulted my players too and oh boy that did NOT sit well.

[anantplayingdnd]

since asking this question is what got me bullied off of reddit, i wanted to ask my newly beloved tumblr mutuals too. curse of strahd dms (or previous players), have you ever had a party just, outright kill Davian Martikov? my group dragged the old man out of bed in his sleep, killed him in his own fields, and destroyed his soul, making sure he'll never reincarnate. All of this for the crime of... being kinda an asshole to his kids? Not wanting to give up his winery to a bunch of ecoterrorists the party made friends with? so i'm just curious if there's anyone out there who has had similar experiences (or, if it's never happened to you, what sort of consequences you think it would have for your players)

[luvyeni]

SEX FASHION AND GUITARS — chapter 28. release party !

𐙚 pairings. rockstar!jaemin x stylist!reader

synopsis. l/n y/n fashion major and photographer on the side who says what she wants, na jaemin music major and lead guitar player for underground band DREAM. After yn forgets her to change her account and says something that catches the eye of jaemin she tries to ignore him — expect thanks to chenle she now works for them.

word count. 1877

SMUT WARNING !!

Jaemins social battery had officially burned out; he sat in the booth of the club, nursing his drink; his picture hung up all over the club, watching his friends bask in all the attention they were receiving— half these people they didn’t really know, but when you tell people there’s free alcohol then it’s bound to be crowed.

Jaemin didn’t want to get to know the girls that were coming up to him— a few months ago, their sultry voice’s and little clothing would’ve peaked his interest; however his eyes were glued to only one person, you; but you were too busy dancing with jeno to even notice.

“you look like a loser.” Chenle came over, sitting down. “how you figure?” he scoffed, taking a sip of your drink. “you’re also stupid.” He rolled his eyes. “did you come over to insult me?” chenle shook his head. “im just saying, you’re not even trying, she came here, she looks hot as fuck.” He glared at the boy. “oh calm down, she’s my best friend I can say what I want.”

“anyways she looks good, and you’re sitting here like a loser just watching.” chenle said. “if you don’t take her home tonight, I think you should just give up, let jeno do it.” Chenle smirked watching the boys nose flare up. “seems like he’s close to anyway look.” He could see jeno’s hands low on your hip. “you’re annoying.” He turned to the younger boy. “but im right.”

chenle was scooped up by jisung dragging him away, leaving the boy alone again, still watching you; the more he watched you dance with jeno, the more jealous he became— and the more that damned skirt became see through. “shit.” He grunted, sitting his drink down on the table, standing up; hoping his growing boner isn’t showing — making his way over to you.

“why are you trying to get me killed by jaemin?” jeno questioned. “what makes you say that.” He put his hand on your waist. “you’re looking this good, im not gonna lie— and I know you can feel him staring at you.” He saw right through you. “so why not just go up to him.” You smiled. “because why not?” he shook his head. “you know he really likes you, he just doesn’t know how to verbally tell you.”

“so he’s a coward?” you questioned, he laughed. “yes, but he means well.” jeno said. “besides we both know you’d rather be with him than me, because you keep looking past me and if you continue to do so im gonna kill myself.” He said stepping back, turning around. “just on time, he’s coming over here.” He went to walk away. “have fun.” He smirked walking away.

“you scared him away.” you tilted your head, he knew you were teasing him. “good.” Before you could say something, he grabbed your waist pulling you close to him. “cause I love the guy, but he was pissing me off.” he looked at your skirt. “your skirt is really sheer, anybody could see something if they looked hard enough.” He squeezed your waist, smirking when you bit your lip. “I don’t think anyone is paying attention to me like that.”

Your hands came up to the nape of his neck, he grunted upon feeling you tug at his roots. “please princess, I could see it the moment you walked in here, all the eyes on you.” He said, you chuckled. “you seem jealous.”

“why wouldn’t i?” you could hear his voice deepen. “they’re staring at what’s mine.” His nose was pressed against yours. “what’s yours?” you questioned teasingly. “don’t remember you asking.”

Having enough of this push and pull, he gripped your waist, a small whimper falling from waist, and that’s all he needed. “we’re getting out of here.” He said. “now?” you questioned. “im not fucking you the bathroom of a club.” You felt a tingle below. “we’re going back to mines.”

The damn taxi couldn’t get there faster; saying your goodbye— jaemin not really caring, he was ready to take you back to his apartment. “the taxi is here.” He grabbed your hand— dragging you outside the club, opening the door to the car, letting you get in first; secretly cause he wanted to get a peek at your ass. “fuck, your skirt really is see through.”

You smirked as he got into car after you. “you can’t wear this anymore.” You felt his hand in between your thighs. “ja-jaemin stop.” You whispered. “why, you getting turned on?” it was his turn to smirk, pressing his lips against your temple. “you know this reminds me of the first time we ever left together.” You clenched your thighs together. “dirty girl, thinking about me fucking you again.” You prayed the driver didn’t hear. “don’t worry princess, we’re almost to minds, I can tell you’re getting wet.”

A few minutes later your misery was over; you had pulled up in front of jaemins apartment complex; he paid the driver, helping you out of the car, he stayed close to you so no one was looking at your skirt; that he swore he was gonna burn after tonight— cause after tonight you’d be his.

He didn’t even wait for the elevator door to shut, before his lips was on yours, pushing you against the wall. “j-jaemin , just can’t wait.” He dry laughed. “you’re breathless and panting in my ear, and im the problem.” His hand crept up your top— but the door open. “lets go.”

He pulled you down the hall to his apartment, hurriedly unlocking his door; his cock desperate to be touched as he pushed the door open, pulling you in, pushing up against the door. “fuck I finally got you to myself.”

You both didn’t even bother taking your shoes off, going at it until you got to the room; you got control for a second, pushing him down on the bed, sinking to your knees. “sh-shit princess, you look fucking sexy down there.” He lifted his hips, letting you pull his pants down. “so eager to have my cock in your mouth.” He hissed as he felt the cold air on his length. “you missed it that much?” you kissed his cock, his precum coating your lips, he sighed.

You wrapped your lips around his red mushroom tip sucking. “oh fuck!” he gripped the sheets. “keep going baby, keep sucking my cock.” you slowly went down on him, the tip of his cock kissing the back of your throat. “fuck, I missed your mouth so much.” You felt his hand tangling up in your hair. “come on princess -fuck- I know you can take it all the way.”

He pushed your head all the way down, your nose pressed against his abdomen; your throat tightening a his cock. “oh shit , keep sucking me baby, im gonna cum.” He grunted. “fuck im gonna cum.” he gripped the shits. “shit im cumming!”

You hummed around his cock, feeling his cum coat the back of your throat with a whimper like moan— pulling off him. “there we go, be a good girl and swallow it.” His cock twitching as he watched you swallow, sticking your tongue out, letting him tap his cock on your tongue. “perfect.”

He pulled you up into a kiss, your poor cunt begging to be touched. “this fucking skirt.” He growled against your lips. “who told you to wear this out?” he pulled the skirt down. “w-wore it for you.” You pouted, he smiled. “yeah?” he threw the fabric across the room, leaving you in your black panties. “wanted to show that pretty ass off for me.” He pushed your legs open, your cunt on display. “look at you, making such a mess.” He pinched your ass. “jaemin, fuck.” You moaned.

He slid your panties to the side. “look at your poor cunt, so wet, begging to be touched.” you sighed feeling his fingers on your slit. “so sensitive, been a while since someone touched this pretty pussy hasn’t it?” you moaned, nodding— even with hanbin, you both hadn’t even had sex, wanting to wait. “good, it’s mine, no one else should be touching it.”

You moaned as he slid his fingers inside. “fuck you sound so pretty.” He huffed, moving his fingers. “gonna stretch you out before i fuck you.” He slowly adding another one, using his thumb to rub your clit. “cum for me princess, make a mess on my fingers.”

You called out his name, letting your orgasm wash over you, legs twitching as he came. “jaemin , shit!” you squeaked as he pulled his fingers out, putting them into mouth before wrapping them around his length, stroking it before slapping it on your clit, slipping inside your warm waiting cunt. “shit, you’re so fucking tight.”

You moaned as cock dragged along your wall; pulling out— a scream involuntarily leaving your lips as he slammed back into you, a curse leaving his mouth; rocking his hips. “shit, I fucking love your pussy.” His hips slapping against yours, the sounds of your dripping cunt and your moans bouncing off the walls as he slammed into your cunt. “fuck keep clenching around me.”

“oh my god.” You gasped as his cock hit a certain spot. “jaemin fuck!” he fucked into that spot over and over. “fuck jaemin im gonna cum soon, please keep going.” He sped up, his hands coming up to your shirt, squeezing your boobs, pushing your knee up, hitting a different spot that made you see stars. “fuck im cumming!” you screamed, legs twitching as you came. “oh fuck let up princess, you’re too tight — gonna cum again.”

He could feel his orgasm approaching, your cunt squeezing his cock like a vice. “sh-shit, shit im cumming.” You felt his cock twitch twice before feeling his cum coat your walls. “oh fuck.” He sighed, holding himself up, looking down at you as you breath. “fuck princess.” He huffed. “you tired me out.”

You rolled your eyes; not liking that he rolled his hip, you whined due to overstimulation. “st-stop it.” You moaned. “m'sorry.” He smirked. “I’ll leave you alone for now princess.” You hissed as he slowly pulled out, watching his cum leak out after him. “so fucking hot.”

After laying there for about 15 minutes in silence, he turned to you, kissing your temple. “mine.” He whispered. “all of you.” He pulled out close. “is mine.”

you flipped your body around, so that your chin was resting on his chest. “I really should make you work for it na jaemin.” You teased. “should make you get on your knees and gravel.” He smirked. “I’ll get on my knees alright, but I won’t be graveling while im down there.” You felt his hand, coming dangerously close to your heat. “no you aren’t touching me down there anymore tonight I am exhausted.”

He sat up. “fine , let’s get you in the shower first, and then get you something to eat because sex and alcohol is quite literally barbaric to go to sleep on.” He helped you up. “look at you being a gentleman for once” he shrugged, kissing your lips, pulling away with a cheeky smile.

“that’s because you changed me.”

previous - masterlist - next

TAGLIST (CLOSED). @nominsgirl @haechansbbg @axo-l0tl @darlingz99 @hollxe1 @lostinneocity @lovebuglissas @stars4yulia @syzavxy @kgyam4 @trashx678 @jarrofkookie @fae-renjun @iheartjayke @foxy-kitsune @kriizztin @bugcattie @thisisnotjacinta

©️LUVYENI

[nataliawrites]

Hello, I am very excited about the end of the cup and Argentina being champion

I could imagine with Pierre Gasly and the Argentinian reader (she being the sister of a player) getting to know each other in the box and discussing/fighting over the game

Love & Football // Pierre Gasly

Whoever decided on the seating arrangements must have had a cruel sense of humor.

It was the final match of the World Cup — Argentina vs France with one chance to win it all — and the Argentine family suite was situated right next to a suite of French celebrities.

You tried to remain calm. Your youngest nephew was sitting on your lap and your two other nephews sat to your side next to your sister-in-law. You didn’t want to set a bad example for them. But when the French fans in the suite bordering yours started heckling your brother, all rational thoughts went out the window. Goal for goal, save for save, penalty for penalty — you traded barbs and insults with a man your age who was enthusiastically supporting France. Your heart was racing wildly in your chest as Argentina gained the lead and then gave it up and then regained it and then gave it up and then finally, gloriously won. By the time your tears and cheers subsided, the French man you had enjoyed going toe-to-toe with was nowhere to be found and it was time for family members to join the Argentine players on the field for a celebration.

Later that night, an impromptu party was thrown for players, family, and celebrities who hadn’t flown home yet. National divides were forgotten as everyone let loose and enjoyed getting to witness history together. You joined the crowd of sweaty bodies dancing to the music when you felt two large hands grip your hips and turned around, ready to slap the stranger for getting too handsy.

You dropped your hand when you noticed that it was the French man from the game, “hey, Frenchie!”

“My name’s Pierre,” he has to raise his voice to be heard over the music.

“I’m Y/N,” you yell back.

Trying to keep the conversation going but getting sick of competing with the booming music, you both retreat to a quieter corner. You decide to extend some sportsmanship, “good game today.”

“France fought hard but Argentina fought harder in the end,” Pierre shrugged.

“It was intense to be sure but I am so happy for the boys.”

He scratches at his neck, “your boyfriend must be very proud.”

“My boyfriend?”

“You and your son seem very supportive of him. He’s a lucky man.”

A boyfriend? A son? What …

“Oh no! You must be talking about my nephew, Ciro. His father is on the team.”

His eyes widened, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh it off. “Let’s have proper introductions. Hi, my name is Y/N Messi.”

“Messi?”

“Leo is my brother.”

“Well, I definitely had that messed up.” He returned your greeting, “I’m Pierre Gasly.”

“Your name sounds familiar. Where do I know you from?”

“Ah, I drive for Formula 1.”

“Yes! I remember now. I have to admit that I am not much of a fan but I did get to see the French Grand Prix this year.”

“Really? Do you spend much time in France or was this just a vacation?”

“Leo’s not the only footballer in the family. I play for Paris Saint-Germain Féminine.”

You spent the rest of the night getting to know each other better, both of you relating to struggles as professional athletes and public figures — and it was a good opportunity to show off your rapidly improving French.

When it was well into the early hours of the morning, and the partygoers were breaking up to go back to their hotels, neither of you wanted to leave.

You start making your way out slowly, “I’ve had a really great time talking to you.”

“Me too,” Pierre agrees with earnest eyes.

“How about you come out to a PSG game soon and I’ll return the favor when the F1 season starts back up.”

“Yeah, I’d really like that. Let’s trade numbers so we can make some plans.”

You leave him with a light kiss on the cheek, which you see him touching when you sneakily turn back to take another look at him before getting in your car.

When you’re in bed later, the sun set to rise in just a short few hours, you send Pierre a text before you can think twice of it:

Next time you’re at a football match you have to cheer for my team

[omi-papus]

Light The Lamp

Part: 2

Fandom: Subnautica

Pairing: Robin x Al-An

Ao3 link

Content: Age difference, ADHD x Autism, Ableist slur, Ice Hockey AU, Modern era AU, Human Al-An AU, Drug use, Eventual smut

Summary: Rookie ice hockey player Robin Ayou stuns the league with a controversial but impressive debut, catching the eye of popular YouTuber Alan Silvester. Known for his hockey insights. After an awkward first encounter, he begs her to feature in one of his videos. And she after thinking shes found her new babygirl cant help but agree.

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: Hey guys. I managed to get this out at a decent pace I think, this fic is a lot easier to write than some of my other projects so I can balance it with Uni a lot better. Here we have more of the idiots being themselves.

She completed the interview. Robin stood firm even when faced with questions like, “How do you plan to avoid being a hindrance to your team?” No matter what, she wasn't going to cave and walk out.

Now she's wondering if that would have been the less humiliating option.

The second they finished recording, she stormed out, not saying a single word to either of the men in the room, and went straight to the gym. She doesn't know how long she stayed there, but all she could think about was what a waste of time this had all been. The dinner, the recording, the time she had spent planning her answers and all she could say to make the interview good, the time she wasted on him. Because she thought none of it amounted to anything. That the interview footage was unusable and no one in their right mind would have thought it was good enough to be released. That it would all be deleted, and they would pretend they never met. Oh boy, how wrong she was.

“AND WHEN DID I TELL YOU YOU COULD FUCKING DO THAT?!” Coach Maida yelled at the entrance of the arena, not minding for a second who else was there to hear her. Robin knew exactly what she meant the second she started yelling because she had seen it too. She forgot to unsubscribe from that godforsaken channel and saw the thumbnail that very morning. It had her nearly foaming at the mouth, and boy had she considered running up to that office and chewing him out. But she had training that day and did not want that fucker taking up any more of her time and brainpower than he already did. And lo and behold, her coach had caught wind of everything and was currently in the process of tearing her a new one.

“ARE YOU AN ACTUAL TODDLER?!”

“I wasn't expecting him to just insult me like that!”

“Oh no, he had every right to insult your piss poor playing. What you should have done was NOT throw a tantrum on camera!”

“I had to defend myself! I couldn't just sit there and take it and embarrass the team!”

“YOU EMBARRASSED THE TEAM WHEN YOU BROKE YOUR FACE ON LIVE TELEVISION!”

Robin couldn't respond to that and just gritted her teeth, holding onto her stick with enough strength to possibly break it.

“I should have kicked you out when I could…” the woman grumbled. Robin would have been scared if she hadn't made that exact threat multiple times and never followed through. She looked down at the floor. At that point, Coach Maida had stopped talking as well and just stared at her, waiting for a response. It took a minute for Robin to simmer down, to hold back from screaming and crying about what had happened in that interview and why it wasn’t her fault. She had to think about something else.

Her next words were soft, almost achingly resigned, but her eyes had that one last spark of confrontation as she locked eyes with her coach.

“Sam won’t be mad if you do. You know that, right?”

Marguerite’s expression did not change, but she didn’t answer. A cold breeze came in through the open door of the building, and the sounds of the other players whispering among themselves cut through the tension like glass. A grunt could be heard from the coach before Robin winced as she received a quick hit to the back of the head. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the coach walking away from her and into the rink.

“What are all of you staring at?! Get ready and get on the ice in five minutes! You’re doing triple laps today! You can thank Ayou for that!”

Robin could barely process the sounds of her team heckling her as she felt a certain weight in her chest grow heavier

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was the last to leave the locker room, still in her underwear, going through her phone. She had meant to unsubscribe from the YouTube channel but quickly found herself unable to look away from the comment section of the newest video.

"Like all women. Basically children." "She should not be playing if she’s this sensitive." "She just mad nobody wants to fuck a masculine thing like her." "Bro thinks she’s good."

It went on and on. She was trying her hardest not to look at Twitter. She could only imagine what the rhetoric would be there. It made her blood boil.

The Alterra Giants had requested a rematch. It would be in only a few days. She would fucking show them. Every single one of them how great of a player Robin Ayou was.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The puck slid out of her reach far too quickly for her to attempt to redirect it. Then, pathetically slowly, it moved away from her before she was pushed to the side and had to refocus her energy on regaining her balance. She stopped herself from moving too far away, getting back into hot pursuit as quickly as possible. She could feel her pulse in her ears. Her trajectory had changed to herding the action back to the left of the rink. The opposing winger was cutting across center ice, trying to get a clean entry into the zone, but Robin was determined to force her wide, to keep her from getting any closer to the middle of the rink. With a burst of speed, she closed the gap, angling her body to cut off the winger’s path. The opposing player saw her coming and tried to make a quick move to the outside, but Robin was ready. She threw her weight into the check, sending the winger off balance. The puck popped loose.

The game was tight, the score tied 3-3, and her team was down to their last minutes in the final period. Every pass, every shot, every hit mattered. The Alterra Giants seemed to have fixed themselves overnight, always having at least two players specifically countering her.

She had to feel flattered.

The center was in position near the slot. Robin’s eyes flicked to her. This was it. She sent the puck screaming across the ice, a laser pass threading between two defenders. Her teammate caught it cleanly and wound up for a one-timer. Robin held her breath. The faceoff was in the offensive zone now. Robin skated into position. She locked eyes with their captain, who was lining up for the draw. They had a plan, the captain would tie up the opposing center, and Robin would swoop in to pick up the loose puck. If everything worked perfectly, they’d get another shot and a goal.

The puck dropped. The captain did her job, tying up her opponent’s stick. Robin surged forward, her stick darting out to grab the puck. She had it. She snapped a quick shot at the net, low and hard, hoping for a rebound. The goalie blocked it, but the puck bounced out into the slot. Bodies crashed together as everyone scrambled for the loose puck.

The opposing winger, a speedster with a nose for breakaways, found the puck and chipped it past the defense. Robin’s heart sank as she watched her own defensewoman hesitate for a split second. just enough time for the winger to take off. Robin turned and sprinted, legs pumping furiously as she tried to catch up. But it was too late. The winger was already across the blue line, alone on a breakaway. Robin could only watch as the forward closed in on their goalie, faked a shot, and then lifted the puck top shelf. The red light flashed.

She didn’t truly remember what happened after that. “4-3” was her last coherent thought.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is hideous, dear, you really ought to change the way you arrange these.” The woman began taking out plates and placing them loosely on the table. Alan stood at the edge of the kitchen, staring firmly at the ground, knowing that if he dared to look up, his brain would shut down. His entire kitchen was in disarray, every plate, cup, fork, and spoon placed out onto the counters and table, many at risk of falling off the edge.

“I’ve taught you how to organize a million times. You are a grown man. You don’t have excuses to be this messy. The cups should go in the top drawer, not the bottom right one, and the pans need to go closer to the stove.” His mother opened one of the bottom drawers and began pulling out the one pot and pan, and with no more space left on the counter, she put them on the floor. “I want this all reorganized by the end of the day, Alan. I am not letting you live like this.” She finally looked back at him as she pointed to the mess around her, and she was fuming when she noticed him looking at the ground.

She let out a deep sigh and massaged her temple. “You’re lucky I’m so patient. I don’t even want to look at your room. I can’t imagine that it’s organized either.”

“It is organized.”

“Don’t talk to me like that! I’ll go see for myself. You stay here and fix this mess.”

She walked past him, and he shuddered. He finally had to look at what she had done, and when he did, he felt his entire head heat up with stress. He held back from putting everything back where it went, knowing that it would not please his mother. He tried to remember what she had told him. The only "right" way to organize, and began rearranging as much as he could according to her rules. He tried to think of his childhood kitchen and how that was organized. Normally, it would be easy to replicate, but the layout of the kitchen was different from his current home, and he wasn’t sure how to make it equivalent in the "right" way that wouldn’t get him another angered lecture and his kitchen torn apart again. Distantly, he could hear the sound of cloth being thrown from down the hall. No doubt his mother had already begun dismantling his closet. He had moved all his hockey paraphernalia to his office for this exact reason.

Because it wasn’t the first time she had done this. Show up unannounced and invite herself in. Sometimes she was only judgmental of his lack of decor and the general subpar aesthetics of his one-bedroom apartment, commenting on his habits, like how long it took him to shower on the days she arrived before he had to head out, and where he placed his coat when she came at the end of the day. But sometimes she did this. Dug through every drawer and crevice in the house, found something she disliked, and then took out everything and told him to put it all back the "right" way.

It wasn’t that Alan was disorganized. He loved keeping his spaces tidy, clean, and in perfect order. He had created multiple systems of how things should be stacked, folded, and stored and hated when anything was out of its assigned spot. Unfortunately, his mother was never a fan of his ways of doing things and insisted that everything should be done based on how her household, when she was a child, used to run.

This had been a battle they had fought for as long as he could remember. It was an immovable object meets unstoppable force scenario, two equally obsessive people steeped in their own ways and unable to accept anything else. Alan would arrange everything to his mother’s liking, wait for her to leave, which might take multiple hours, and then put it all back, until she showed up again. It was a cycle that periodically would steal up to an entire day from him. Sometimes, he’d have to call off work to Ryley because he had to either entertain his mother or reorganize everything again.

Alan used to think he would be free to have his house the way he liked when he had his own, but his mother’s incessant visits never let him know peace. In half an hour, the kitchen was mostly presentable. He could only hope she wouldn’t undo his work twice. He didn’t have to guessshe had already told him she was angry with him, for missing her call all those weeks ago and for making a scene at that restaurant. He knew from experience that her anger would last at least another month at this rate. And he guessed that Robin’s anger would last forever.

He was smart enough to tell that she was furious. The way she conducted herself in the interview was proof enough. And the way she had left, so quickly and violently, was unnerving. Ryley had suggested, nearly begged, that he not post the video. He didn’t know why Ryley was so adamant, as Ryley had always been pretty detached from anything Alan did outside of what directly affected him. Unfortunately, Alan had promised his viewers an interview with Robin Ayou, and he couldn’t back down from that. But it really was a disaster. She refused to answer multiple questions, and the ones she did, she fought him at every step. She was obviously very upset with what he was asking her.

He had told her to notify him if she had a problem. Why didn’t she? He had given her every question. None of this should have happened like this. At least not on camera. She was clearly surprised by the questions, and it was apparent she hadn’t read the list he gave her, and that made him more upset than anything else. That he had planned everything out perfectly and it was all sabotaged because she just felt like it. Like his way of doing things was stupid and didn’t deserve consideration. Just like his mother was doing now.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud thud followed by what sounded like a crack. Quickly, he put down whatever he was holding and scurried over to his room, where he could see three things.

His mother stood in the corner of the room, looking visibly shaken his bed was filled with now unfolded clothes, thrown half-heartedly around, and his headset was on the floor, the shell on the left speaker broken and detached from the headband, the cushion having detached as well.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry! They just fell out of the closet, I didn’t know they were there! Oh my God, I broke them! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m a terrible mother who breaks my son’s things! I’m so, so sorry, Alan.”

His feelings toward the broken headset were quickly derailed by his need to calm his mom down.

“It’s alright. It was an accident. Go sit down. I can get another one.”

“I didn’t mean to do it, I’m sorry!”

“I know, Mother. Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

This went on for a solid twenty minutes. And it was only after two hours that she finally left, and he was faced with the fact that he had to replace the now broken headset.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robin stood still against the bathroom wall, fighting the burning sting of tears yet again. Every time she thought her anger had subsided, it bubbled up again like magma, and she could do nothing but grit her teeth and hold back from punching a wall.

She had told herself she would not look at social media after their loss, but, like with seemingly everything in her life, she failed. Twitter was swarming with comments about not only her team but her specifically. The connections made between her performance and the interview were plentiful. She remembered the scolding Coach Maida had given her, and even that didn’t feel close to the sheer anger she had felt in her bones when she saw that scoreboard.

She pressed her forehead against the stall wall, fists tight and jaw clenched. She was only a month into her professional career, and all of this was happening. She couldn’t help it. The gut punch of regret, coupled with an all-too-familiar helplessness, made the tears threaten to fall again. She had to mentally recite a mantra to herself, reminding herself why she was doing this, why she chose this path.

You're good at this. You're good at this. You. Are. Good. At. This.

She wiped her eyes and blew her nose quickly when she heard a knock at the stall door. She had been in there for a good ten minutes, moping. Hastily stepping out, she made her way to the sinks and splashed water on her face. Looking at herself in the mirror for a moment, she wished she were home right now. The only reason she hadn’t hotboxed her room and smoked herself stupid was that she was completely out of groceries and had nothing to eat for either dinner or tomorrow’s breakfast. She was starting to regret not ordering takeout, but her budget was getting stretched thin, and she knew this was the healthier option. The closest grocery store was attached to the main mall in the area, so that's where she was. Stores would be closing soon, so she had to hurry.

It was because she was speed-walking that she only half-registered a white blur move past her. Her instinct, however, was strong enough to tell her to stop and turn around, knowing that properly identifying it would be important.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alan should have, by all means, waited until at least tomorrow to purchase another headset. Or better yet, he should have ordered it online and waited. He had most of the month's videos already recorded and could have honestly just recorded everything on camera with the whiteboard instead. But he hated waiting, and he also just needed to get this situation out of his head before it made his brain explode with rage. Needless to say, he was furious, because of everything. The broken headset had just been the final push between his mother's visit and the recent interview fiasco. He felt like he would lose it if he didn’t fix the one thing he could control in this situation.

He never liked malls very much, few things interested him, bright lights and loud sounds abounded. It wasn't unbearable, but he certainly wasn't fond of it. He was walking around, searching for an electronics store that looked like it sold more than cheap chargers and phone cases, in hopes of getting a half-decent headset to serve as a placeholder while he waited to get another identical to the one he already had. He knew that wasn't the wisest financial decision, but he simply did not care at this point. He walked along with his head facing the ground, just thinking about how much better it would be once all of this was behind him. That was until a very loud noise pierced his ears, and he turned around to recognize a person stomping toward him.

“YOU!”

She had quickly pinned him to the wall, pointing at his face, her finger dangerously close to his chin.

“You motherfucker!”

He was never great at identifying facial expressions, which only made the vibrant anger in her eyes even more noticeable. It took him a whole five seconds of staring before he processed the eye contact, became uncomfortable, and looked away.

“Oh no, you look at me, you piece of shit!”

Her hand was already on the wall to the left of his head, leaning in way too close for comfort. He only took tentative glances at her, slowly shuffling to the side, away from her. He was thankful she didn't outright grab his face.

“I said look at me, dammit. Can you at least treat me like a person?!”

That confused him, his eyes still on the pillar to the side of them.

“I have never indicated I don't see you as a person,” he mumbled unsurely. He nearly felt her huff exasperatedly on his chin.

“Are…” She seemed almost choked for a short second before frowning at him again. “Am I supposed to believe you're just stupid?”

He finally took a step to the side, getting out of her hold. A nearly imperceptible growl escaped her when he did, but she removed herself from the wall and stared him down.

“Am I just expected to believe that you didn’t know how bad all of that would fucking look?! Is that your excuse?!” She spoke loudly but stopped outright yelling.

“I…” He cut himself off, realizing he needed to further think his words through. “I gave you time to contest the questions if you wanted to,” he struggled to say.

“And how did you expect me to react exactly?! I wouldn't have done the interview at all if you were just going to shit on my entire career for thirty minutes straight!”

His hand twitched. “Your career is barely existent. You’ve got one victory under your belt, one that you lost immediately after.”

She visibly fumed. So the shithead had watched that day's game too. Of course, he had. “So then why care about me at all?! If you just think I'm a piece of shit at my job, then what was the point of interviewing me in front of hundreds of people? Do you just get off on humiliating me?!”

They were starting to get looks. Robin noticed this far before Alan did. For a moment, she was self-conscious. She was making a scene so soon after being called emotional and childish for her on-camera outburst. The thought made her so upset that she nearly didn’t care about how those around her might see her. But that underlying shame was still there, that feeling that she was just being dramatic, that she should just suck it up and move on with her life. That she should just train harder and force him to eat his words. But something about looking at him directly set her off. Seeing him there, looking so lost and vaguely afraid, even through the thick facade of his expressionless face, made the barb sink so much deeper into her chest. Betrayed. She felt betrayed. And she felt stupid for it. Because it wasn’t a secret to her that he had quickly endeared himself to her, that she had found him oddly cute and charming. That she had felt that they were friends. She had known him for so little time. She shouldn’t have gotten this attached that quickly. Or shouldn’t have gotten attached at all.

“I thought the phenomenon of how you played was worth investigating,” he said, still facing the wall. Robin had to force herself to sigh. It did not help.

“What? Is my failure just fun to you?! Am I just entertaining because I'm so fucked up at playing hockey that I need to be studied?”

“I think you're taking it personally.”

“It IS personal, Alan! This isn't just my hobby! This is my life!”

“Well maybe play like it, then.” His fists were clenched hard, his brow ever so slightly furrowed. For a moment, Robin was too stunned to clap back. She fumbled with her words for a good few seconds as they kept getting stuck in her throat. The sheer audacity of the statement actually made her return to reality. Him so openly admitting he thought she was shit felt like it put an end to a small fire that had been burning her lungs. It felt like some type of closure.

“I shouldn’t even care. You're nothing but some nobody on the internet. Your own followers are getting tired of you, and you're more preoccupied with shitting on me than getting your mediocre career back on track.”

“You're trying to offend me, and it is not going to work.” He spat at her, looking now at her feet.

“Ryley was right about you. You're nothing but a neurotic freak with an ego up your ass!”

“Listen, I just want to go purchase something. I have nothing to say to you.”

“No wonder nobody likes you. Nothing is ever enough for you.”

That, Robin noticed, lightly changed the look in his eyes. “Listen.” His shoulders tensed, and to her surprise, he turned to face her, still looking at her feet. He took a step toward her, and they were once again toe to toe with each other.

“You have no experience with what being less than enough is like. If you really weren't enough, that coach of yours would have kicked you out a long time ago. I’ve seen her do worse for less. You’ve waved to your loving family at plenty of your games since university.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He should have shut up then, but an unstable cocktail of built-up frustration and anger was making him unreasonable. “Nothing I do is ever enough. Not for my family, not for my audience, not even for my own employee, and clearly not for you.”

Robin only raised an eyebrow, demanding he elaborate. He happily did. “I gave you every single question written out on paper and would have easily sent you a digital copy if you asked. I gave you a week to make the choice, to communicate with me, and yet you said nothing. It was clear you couldn’t even be bothered to read any of them. I would have changed them. I would have called off the interview if it was really that bad. I had everything set up to avoid disaster, but that was not enough. I tell my viewers that I’m going to interview a professional player, but that's not good enough. I lose nearly half of my income to pay my assistant a livable wage by just doing the job he signed up for, and that is not enough. I show my family over and over that I’m managing my life and have found even a little success in what I do, and that is still not enough. It’s never fucking enough.”

Robin blinked, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what he was saying that surprised her, but how he said it. For all his usual detachment, this was the first time she had seen him genuinely vulnerable. She tried to shake that feeling off. He was the one who had treated her like a lab rat for his personal gain. He didn’t get to turn this around on her now, not after everything.

“That’s your excuse? You’re sad, so you did this to me?” She bristled.

“I am not giving you excuses. I am just simply expressing how I feel since you’re so intent on arguing.”

“What you feel?! What about what I felt?! When you still posted that stupid interview when I was clearly not happy with it?!”

“You didn’t tell me not to post it. You didn’t tell me anything. You just left.”

“And you’re going to tell me you didn’t see I was upset about it? It was obvious, you should have known!”

“Your subpar communication skills are not my responsibility.”

“Oh, we’re talking about communication, how funny. I would have LOVED for you to have communicated that you thought I was a stupid piece of shit instead of schmoozing me up at dinner and texting me like we were best friends!”

He was taken aback by that last statement, finally catching himself staring at her again, this time in sheer disbelief. “What do you mean by that?” he said slowly.

“If you were just going to insult my playing, why did you act so polite, take me out, and… and make me trust you?”

She sounded… hurt by the end of the sentence, her burning ire fading into the background ever so slightly. Alan couldn't decipher it, but he was dumbfounded by the very question.

“Because you’re a person. Even if a messy one, you are still a high-level professional player. And just… because I respect you? I never thought that you were stupid, and I just… Why wouldn’t I?

She was exhausted. She only then realized it. Frustration was starting to burn away at the last of her energy reserves along with her sore arms and bruised calves. She let out a huffy, exasperated noise as she held her head in her hands. It dawned on her what she was doing and how stupid and insane it looked to everyone around her. Was she being childish? She didn't know and only half cared. But she knew then that she wanted this to be over.

“Are you even sorry?” She simply sounded tired now, the tone of her voice significantly higher-pitched than before. Alan was able to sense this, and therefore his own defensiveness lowered, but he still had to take a moment to think about it.

“I do not think it is my fault, but I am sorry it turned out like this,” was all he could say. Robin stayed quiet, looking at him in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable, and he finally had enough.

“Goodbye, Miss Ayou.” It took a lot of strength for him to turn around and walk away, but he finally did, leaving Robin to deal with the stares. The supermarket had already closed.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was going hungry tonight. She refused to spend more money on takeout, and Cal had his parents over, so she couldn't raid his fridge tonight. She was almost tempted to ask Sam for food, but the fear that Coach Maida could be the one to answer the phone was enough to dissuade her.

She should have, by all means, gone to sleep already. Her tired body was screaming at her, and her frayed nerves couldn't handle any more, but she just couldn't feel like it. That was very much like her, procrastinating even when it came to sleep. Fuck, she did not want to go to training tomorrow. If only she could call in sick like any other job, well, at least any job where Coach Maida wasn’t in charge. She tried to think of ways to get out of it while boiling some water. She really needed to get a kettle. Busting out the pot every time she wanted to fill her hot water bottle was getting beyond annoying, especially since these days she had to do it daily. Everything hurt. She looked over to her room and heavily considered rolling one out, but it would go to waste if she was just going to fall asleep five minutes later.

In minutes, she was on the couch, a hot water bottle pressed against her shoulder, her phone at ten percent, bright in the darkness. She scrolled past a group chat with her teammates, a message from her mom asking how she was doing, and a few promotional emails from places she'd never shop at. She was in that mood in which she couldn't stay on a single app for more than a couple of seconds, her attention span wouldn’t sit with her for more than that. She leaned her head back against the couch, trying to force herself to relax. Eventually, she decided to scroll through YouTube Shorts since she hadn’t tried that yet. Pretty quickly, that got boring as well, so she began looking through her YouTube feed. Maybe her favorite ichthyologist YouTuber had posted something new today.

Like a bitter metallic taste suddenly making its way into her mouth, a video showed up on the feed that nearly jump-scared her. She sat upright on her couch and stared at the screen. She thought she had unsubscribed from that stupid channel earlier today. Did she really forget to do it then, too? Fuck, she was stupid.

She collapsed back down again. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…” she muttered to herself tiredly. The video still stared her in the face. It made her angry. She felt the urge to report it, but she knew that doing that would actually cross the line into being childish. Currently, she was frozen. Something in her stopped her from scrolling along, unsubscribing, or doing anything about the situation that was bothering her. She placed the phone on her chest. She never did watch any videos from him, maybe if she had, she would have picked up that he was an asshole before she agreed to be part of them. And thinking about it more, she felt like an idiot again. She really did just like the idea of being interviewed like a celebrity, regardless of who did it. She never cared about his channel or whatever greater goal he had in mind. She just wanted to feel good about herself. Was that wrong of her? It felt like it was.

His little speech still bothered her. It wasn’t unimaginable that he had his own bullshit going on. Everyone did. Robin was convinced that everyone thought the world was caving in around them half the time. He wasn’t special. Still, she had to feel bad because it was true, if she had just not lost the paper like a moron, this wouldn’t have happened. He said so himself. And, God, she was never going to live down what Cal told her to do. Just ask for the questions again. She had avoided doing it for such a stupid reason, too. And that's the part that bruised her ego the most.

Because she was attracted to him. That had been apparent from minute one. She had wanted to look cool in front of him. She didn’t want him to know she was an idiot. And what hurt the most was finding out he already did. Seemingly from the start, he knew. And she really was stupid, wasn’t she? Her tooth still stood sharp and broken in her mouth, the image of the scoreboard was still seared into her brain.

Why hadn’t Maida kicked her out yet? If she let a boy get under her skin like a teenager, surely she deserved to be left behind with the college kids like so many of the other girls did. She should have never been drafted. This was a mistake. She was just destined for nothing, like all her school teachers had told her.

She curled up on the couch, burying her face against the cushion. She was spiraling again. She needed a distraction, now. She took out her phone and just mindlessly clicked on the video. Fuck it. Maybe getting angry at Alan again would get her back on track. What the video was even about didn’t matter, as long as it was something other than more loud thoughts of self-hate. Alan was in front of a whiteboard with a projection on it. He wasted no time, beginning to scribble and talk at length. Robin immediately recognized the topic, neutral zone traps, forechecking, and counterattacks. She stared at the screen, watching Alan’s hands move across the whiteboard, the slight tilt of his head as he spoke. She was annoyed that even now, after everything, he could still captivate her attention. Pathetic.

The video droned on about the timing of offensive breakouts and how players should anticipate defensive collapses. But then something in the video caught her ear, a mention of adaptability. Alan was saying something about how great players aren’t just skilled at executing strategies, they’re able to adapt to changing circumstances. The ones who succeed long-term are the ones who can read a situation, make quick decisions, and adjust, even when things go off script. She was good at that, she thought. Robin had always been quick on her feet and would thrust herself at any opportunity that presented itself to strike. Heh, she was so dead set on improvising that she had… broken… her tooth. She instinctively ran her tongue along the jagged edge of it, wincing at the reminder. Improvising was her strength, sure, but sometimes it came with a cost.

Alan’s voice brought her back to the video. He was talking about the importance of balance, knowing when to adapt but also knowing when to stick to the fundamentals. "It’s not just about reacting to the situation," he said, his tone calm but firm. "It’s about controlling how you react.” Robin remembered that incident, how it had happened because she flung herself at a loose puck and accidentally planted the toe picks of her skates on the ground and fell over. She hadn't thought about the consequences, about how her desperate attempts to turn the tide were turning into sloppy mistakes.

Robin gritted her teeth. Control. That word made her stomach churn. It was what Coach Maida had been drilling into her head for months now. Her natural instincts were sharp. She’d fight tooth and nail to force a play, to make something happen, but in doing so, she’d lose sight of the bigger picture and…

Her head was starting to hurt. She got off of YouTube, cutting the video off. She stared at the ceiling for God knows how long. Thankfully, she had the loud sounds of cars honking outside to save her from being submerged in the silence. She hugged the hot water bottle. Well, just like he seemed, Alan was smart. Too smart. Too blunt as well. He hadn’t just made his points by themselves. He had provided examples for every single aspect he was discussing, heavily criticizing a number of players in the process. She let out a deep sigh. Alright, maybe it wasn’t personal. She still found what happened in the interview incredibly rude and insensitive, especially with how little faith people naturally have in female hockey. But she supposed he just didn’t consider that. It was weird, actually, how little he cared about that fact. She looked through his recent videos, and the last seven of them were all about female games, even if she noticed that those had fewer views than the previous male-led ones.

A sudden urge to ask him about it popped into her head. It was just a fleeting notion, but the fact that she had just thought of texting him about why he liked female hockey like that caught her off guard. Like she hadn’t just sworn off ever thinking of him again a few hours prior.

“Uuuuugh, nooooooooo…” she whined lowly. Watching that video had done something for her. She just saw him, so focused and objective, that she finally had to realize that Alan was just some guy. He loved hockey like an obsessive little kid who cared about the game itself so much that people's feelings just slipped his mind. Could she really be that mad at that? He himself had admitted to her that he was autistic, and- no. No, no, no, no. That was NOT an excuse. Never had been, never would be. But what, she just wasn't mad at him anymore? What was she supposed to do with that? She didn't just want to forgive him. But… he wasn’t malicious. He was… blunt, obsessive, maybe even careless, but not cruel. She was almost certain of that now. Maybe she was infantilizing him, but that was better than considering him a shitbag. Robin remembered what he had told her, that although she was messy, she was still a professional. Did he always feel that way about her? How she felt now? So lukewarm and weirdly disturbed by the existence of a grown adult who was so… clumsy. Her with her feet and him with his words.

She briefly considered that her brain might just be looking for excuses to let things go so she could fawn over him again. It was at that moment that she made a choice. If she was going to go anywhere with this relationship, that attraction had to go. He wasn't some irresistible supermodel. Most of what appealed to her was just that he was taller than her, which most men weren't. He was decently polite, but she had gotten a good enough look at his personality to realize that the soft boy sweetheart persona she had built up in her head was far from the truth. She had been into her girlfriends before, and she got over that. Yes, this was the right choice. She could do this.

Now the question was, did she want to continue their relationship? If she even could, he looked pretty pissed at her too. But if they made up, what would become of whatever they had? Well, first of all, any more videos were off the table. But that had been the only reason they even met in the first place. The only reason he approached her, and the only reason she followed along with the weirdo that ran to corner her in the street. She huffed. Well, at least they were even cornering each other in public. The point was, what else did she want from him?

She thought about it while scratching dirt from under her fingernails, and rather easily, she had her answer. She felt bad for him. Not just because she screamed at him in public, but because of everything. Like she said, he wasn't special for having his own emotional baggage, which he had revealed to her seemingly on impulse. But still, even before that, he had such wet dog energy. When they were on good terms, he would text her incessantly, like he had no one else to talk to. She had a suspicion that was the reason he invited her out to dinner instead of just forwarding her the questions via email. And now she knew that he was aware that Ryley, his only work colleague, thought badly of him. Adding that he also briefly mentioned having family issues, something Robin had never been familiar with.

If she wasn't going to be his friend, then no one else would. And something about her hypersocial brain wouldn't let that go. Was she really going to let go of all the humiliation and anger to adopt a thirty yearold man? Fuck, she needed to broaden her hobbies.

She lay down comfortably again and put a pin in that thought. She was being hormonal or something. She had just finished tearing his ear out. She couldn't just call him up and be like, Hey, sorry, let’s be friends. She wasn't a saint.

Looking at her phone with five percent battery left, she decided she had enough of videos and hopped on Twitter. Robin had fought for her life to keep her Twitter hockey-free. She had enough of that shit on the daily. When she had phone time in bed, she would prefer to look at videos of Cuddlefish. Well, until a few days ago, of course. Following Alan had completely thrown off her algorithm, if only because of how much he tweeted. She should have known that she couldn't avoid him here either. There were just old threads of arguing until she got to the top, where she inevitably came across his most recent tweet and…

“Let it be on record that I do not condone the misogynistic and degrading comments made about the athlete Robin Ayou as a result of my video.”

Suddenly, it was quiet even on the street outside. Without thinking, she clicked on the thread and continued reading.

“While I stand by my analysis of her play, it’s important to separate criticism of performance from personal attacks. I respect Robin as a player and as a person, and any comments attacking her have no place in the discussion.”

He hadn’t tagged her in the tweet. Maybe he thought that was him being respectful, but now she wished he had. At least then she could have responded, said her piece, and maybe even defended herself instead of just being some invisible target. She looked at the time it was posted. Ten minutes ago. So after their spat at the mall. Even after all of that…

She buried her face in her hands. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…” she groaned. She stood up, back pain be damned. She stomped over to her room and plugged in her phone, not waiting for the little sound to ring before going into her contacts and searching for a familiar name. Alphabetically, it was the first. She put the phone to her ear as her breath caught in her throat. What was she doing? Whatever it was, she had to do it now before she lost her nerve or her pride swallowed her alive. The phone was already ringing, so there was no going back now.

The sound permeated for an unbearably long time. A small part of her was hoping he wouldn't pick up. That she could tell herself that she tried and that it was him who rejected her.

The ringing stopped.

“A-”

“I will have you know that it is only legal to claim defamation if the statements made are both false and damaging to your reputation. I have extensive proof of all my claims and proof of your consent to-”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! No, no, no, no, no! I never- I don't- what?”

“I would urge you not to allow this to go to court.”

“Alan, I am not trying to sue you!”

“Then what do you want?”

The words suddenly got caught in her throat. For what felt like an eternity, she was unable to say anything out of sheer nervousness.

“Miss Ayou, this is considered harassment.” His voice never wavered once.

“No! Wait! Fuck! I just- I’m sorry!”

“What was that?”

“I- I- I” She sighed harshly. “I’m sorry, Alan.”

“Okay.”

Robin blinked. That's it? Okay? She nearly said that out loud. A short silence followed before she realized it really was on her to make this count. “I did take it personally. Too personally. I know now that you're like that with every player, and I shouldn't have accused you of trying to hurt me.”

“Because I wasn't.”

“I know. Listen, I was being irrational back there at the mall. That wasn't deserved. I shouldn't have made a scene like that.”

“Is that it?”

He was really going to milk her dry, wasn’t he? “Alright, I'm also sorry for the interview. It… it was stupid. I should have done something more productive than just digging my heels in like that.”

“Miss Ayou?”

She wished his voice would soften even a little but knew that even if he was in a good mood, it almost never did.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you read the interview questions?”

She dragged her palm across her face, hunched her shoulders, and held back a groan. He noticed. Of course, he noticed. She had no choice but to rip off the band-aid now.

“I… I lost the paper…”

Where had the cars outside gone? She couldn’t deal with this silence!

“Are you serious?”

“Yyyyyep…”

“You’re not messing with me?”

“Why would I make this up?” She sounded like she wanted to jump off a pier because honestly, she did.

“I just…” That was the first time she had ever heard him lose his words like that. It was honestly intimidating.

“Why???” His pitch heightened in disbelief. She swallowed hard, she couldn't decide if this was going better or worse than she had expected.

“I just put it away and then I couldn't find it.”

“Are you one hundred percent certain?”

“Yes? I know it's the dumbest shit you've ever heard, but that's what happened.”

She could hear fiddling on the other line. He must have started to pace.

“And… why… didn't you ask for a copy??”

She briefly couldn't speak again. Her face was burning, and it was making her dizzy. What did she expect to say here? I had a crush on you, so I didn't want to embarrass myself? Well, yeah, that exactly, but for the sake of her sanity, she would omit some things.

“I didn't… want you to know that I lost it. Because… well, like I said, it's stupid, and I didn't want you to think I was an idiot for losing something so simple.”

It was his turn to struggle to speak for a couple of seconds. “I- Robin, what you did is much dumber than just asking for them again.”

“I know!”

Alan, on his side, had in fact been pacing around his room, eventually, he had to stop and sit back on the bed. He ran a hand through his hair and fiddled with his shirt collar for several seconds before thinking of how to continue. Robin was waiting for a response, as she had fallen silent, save for the occasional short squeal of frustration that would come through.

“So this was all a misunderstanding then.” He didn't sound completely sure.

“Ugh, I mean no. It's mostly my fault. I'll take that, but it's because I wouldn't have done the interview if I had known what the questions were.”

Alan sighed. "So you went into the interview blind. And now you’re apologizing after wanting to kill me four hours ago."

"Yes! I get it, okay? I’m an idiot. I didn’t plan for it to spiral like this."

"That’s an understatement," he muttered. There was a pause.

"You didn’t have to make that interview so brutal," Robin said, more quietly now.

"You expected me to go easy on you?" Alan’s voice was incredulous.

She was going to implode. “Well, when you put it like that, I look like a little bitch.”

“What do you plan to do when criticism like this comes to you again?”

Robin buried her face in her free hand. “I’ve gotten worse, just not in front of a bunch of people, man!”

“You're twenty three, you'll recover.” He attempted to comfort her, but it only agitated her more for reasons unknown to him.

“D-don't treat me like a kid!” Her face was flushed, and her ears got hot.

“I never did. I simply meant to say that you have the rest of your career ahead of you.”

She brought her knees to her chest, her voice coming out much softer than either of them had anticipated. “So what? Do I just have ‘potential’ and nothing else? Is that how you see me?”

This time she could hear him breathe through the phone. “I'm not that important, Robin.”

Her eyes widened momentarily, and she mentally kicked herself for caring so much again. She was taking too long to answer, so he did in her stead. “I don't understand. Are you upset because you found the video defamatory or because you think I dislike you?”

Even through her pinkish-brown skin, the dark red of her blush could show through. That was a good question. The obvious answer was both, but if she looked inside herself, she could find which of the two dug at her ego the hardest.

“It's not like we're even friends.”

And she was not about to be honest about that.

“I suppose not.”

They were both quiet for a long time. It didn't feel right to hang up, but neither could come up with something more substantial to say.

She cleared her throat. “Look, I didn’t call you to- ugh, whatever this is. I just wanted to say sorry for blowing up. I… I get that you were just doing your job, and I need to stop making everything personal.”

“Good,” Alan said flatly.

Robin felt her heart sink just a little, even though she’d expected him to say something like that. What had she been hoping for?

“I just... I don’t want to be on bad terms with you. That’s all.”

“Bad terms? Robin, this wasn’t personal. I don’t go around trying to make enemies of people.”

“Well, you got pretty personal back at the mall with that little spiel about your life.” She said with a certain venom in her voice. This was supposed to be an apology, but she refused to pretend like she was the only emotional one in the situation.

He choked for a second, almost dropping his phone in the process. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded more than a little strained. “That was an oversight.”

“And what? Do mistakes only have consequences when I make them?”

He hesitated for several seconds. “And what consequences am I supposed to suffer then?”

It was Robin's turn to stall. During the span of five seconds, she went through all five stages of grief for her pride and finally settled on what she wanted. “I want you to forgive me.”

He blinked a couple of times. That was a much simpler request than he had expected. “I already did.”

“Forgive me like you mean it.”

“How am I supposed to prove that?” He was utterly perplexed, even if he didn't fully convey it.

“Everything has to go back to normal between you and me. Back to the random blocks of text at 3 PM. Back to asking about our day. No more videos or interviews in mind. Just talk, like normal.”

Alan was close to short circuiting. This took a turn that he never could have expected. “But like you said, we are not friends.”

“Well, fuck you, you’re my friend now.”

“What? Do I get a choice in the matter?”

“Nope.”

“You can't do that.”

“Sure can, white boy.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

“Talk to you tomorrow, Al. Good night.”

She hung up, leaving him more confused than he had been in his life. What?

[grassyhorizon45]

Saw you looking for microfic requests… feel free to ignore, but what about a first-date style microfic in Hogsmeade or something? Thinking like year 6 or 7? Not sure if you’ve done one of those before and sorry if this is too broad. Any character(s) would be cool!

aaaa this took me a while to brain but I hope it's what you were looking for 👀

oh and my friend gave me three words to try and incorporate in this too 😅👍

the way he immediately switched to bomb and death :sob:

word count: 1113

ding~

The bell above the door chimed, announcing my entry. 

“Welcome to Honeydukes,” the owner, Mr. Flume greeted me. I responded with a subtle nod, not wanting to say anything but not wanting to be rude at the same time.

I scanned the nearby shelves; toffees, chocolates, some Fizzing Whizzbees……

There it was, carved neatly into the wooden sign board were the words ‘Special Effects’.

My gaze was followed by none other than the owner himself.

“Ah, the special effects section. Might I recommend you the–” I stopped him, smiling. 

“I've already made up my mind, thanks Mr. Flume.”

Not at all offended, the lovely Ambrosius Flume nodded and left me be.

I grabbed a blue box off the top shelf and brought it to the cashier.

“The finest sugar quills,” he said, taking one look at the box of sweets. “You my dear, must have an eye for confectionery, no?” 

I blushed, not taking compliments well. 

“It's for a friend,” I explained. To which he replied with a knowing, “I see.” 

I never did like giving people chocolates, they were too common. But sugar quills? They're my signature go-to when it comes to gifts, my own little flair you could say.

I left Honeydukes with the box of sweets neatly bagged, roaming the streets of Hogsmeade a while before finally settling down in the Three Broomsticks Inn, giving my watch a quick glance……

Ten more minutes.

~

“Someone's early.”

His silky voice took me by surprise. I looked up and smirking gray eyes met mine. I smirked back, rolling my eyes. 

“Sit down, Malfoy.”

Never in my life would I have expected this. Draco Malfoy, the very guy that tormented me for years, was now on a freaking date with me. 

Though it was true that Draco was the one who initiated the date, deep down I knew I too had developed feelings for the boy.

Draco was an absolute player, every soul in Hogwarts knew that; and as the silence between us dragged on, I started to wonder why the heck I was here in the first place. 

“Y/n– You okay?” His voice drew me back to reality. “Madam Rosmerta just asked if you'd like to order anything.”

“Oh, huh– I'll just have butterbeer, th-thanks.” Draco only continued staring at me intently, like I was a mystery yet to be solved. I avoided his gaze, mumbling a quick, “Sorry, I zoned out.”

It felt so out of place when he just grinned back. He wasn't making small talk, we weren't talking at all. Was it because of our history with each other? Was this whole thing just a joke to him?

“Hey,” Draco spoke in the most casual way possible, gaining eye contact with me.

“Hi?” Was the only thing I could think to blurt.

He smiled at this.

“First time, love?”

How did he know—

“And I bet you've been on tons,” I slipped, echoing the negative thoughts in my head.

Draco tilted his head. “And why would you say that?”

I looked away, “No reason.”

He grabbed my chin and forced me to face him. Draco's touch was gentle but unfamiliar, sending shivers down my spine.

“I know you think im some asshole that loves messing around,” his voice was stern, the very kind he used when he was actually being serious. “But I really want you to trust me on this. You and I, this isn't a little fling I'm playing at.”

The man in front of me knew me more than I knew myself. At times I saw it through his insults and bullying, but at times I saw it through the way he secretly cared for me…… Maybe that was the reason I'm here.

“Please?”

I nodded, “Okay.”

His stern face melted away and was replaced with an indifferent one. “So tell me about yourself,” he tried.

“Seriously? I've known you since year two…” I mumbled.

“Well, tell me something I don't know then, y/n.” There was a tinge of harshness to his voice but that somehow only turned me on even more. 

“I don't think I could live a day without you.”

Shocked, Draco was completely speachless. And I only realised the weight of my words after I'd blurted it. 

“I-It's true… I don't know what I'd do without your daily snarky remarks and insults… Th-They give me a sense of hope that somewhere under all that,” I gulped. “Y-You cared.”

It was a strange feeling, wanting his attention. It was even weirder that I was admitting all of this to him but that's just how I am, an absolute pushover.

Our drinks arrived just then and I dived into my mug of butterbeer without a thought, wanting to wave off the bomb of awkwardness I had just dropped.

“Look, y/n… I do care,” he stated. “I care about you way more than you know. It's just something I don't find easy to show, I've never felt this way for someone before.”

I smiled at him, he smiled back, and I felt blush creep all the way up to my ears.

“Oh! I almost forgot–” I pulled out the lapis blue box I had bought from earlier. “I got you something…”

“Hm?” Draco took the box from me, “You didn't have to...”

I caught him take a quick peek at the sugar quills inside.

“Just something small, I didn't want to show up empty handed.”

He chuckled, putting the gift aside. “Thanks.”

Secretly, I was relieved; I didn't want to see his reaction anyways.

Draco and I chatted as we slowly drank our butterbeers, touching topics like school and family, basically filling the empty silence we would otherwise have between us. 

But as our drinks neared their end so did our conversation burn out, leaving us to sit there silently in each other's presence. 

The silence this time round was oddly soothing, knowing there wouldn't be any judgment from either party. We were already close before this, taking this ‘date’ as a progression in our relationship from enemies to lovers.

Draco got up to pay short after, leaving me alone at the table. The box of sugar quills was open in front of his seat and it looked like he'd already gone through one over the course of our conversation. I smiled, I think this relationship is gonna work out just fine.

Two gentle hands found themselves on my shoulder from behind. I tilted my head upwards and was once again met with his loving gray eyes. 

“So, what do you say? You, me, we make this official.”

I smiled back at him. “Deal.”

He grinned. “Alright then……

Till death do us part.”

[rueitae]

Season 1, Episode 7. The Chasing Paper Caper as part of @csweekly

Maelstrom is so unhinged. I keep saying each Faculty member is my favorite because they’re all so laser focused on their own brand of evil and yet they work together. So dramatic for the audience's sake.

Shadowsan’s so carefully neutral I love it. He doesn’t even need to disguise his displeasure because that’s his thing and his colleagues relish in evil. Maelstrom WANTS to be mad. And the others just don’t care. They support each other's pet projects.

I’m thankful to know that VILE too has issues with slideshows. I’m almost so amused that they do this each time a potential caper comes up. Like this is a school they still need a twenty five page PowerPoint presentation to be graded by your peers. You must take questions such as ‘I don’t understand the words coming out of your mouth.” Maelstrom clearly had to defend a thesis at some point.

Some GUY named JOHN

The amount of paper related quips in this episode is impressive.

RED WILL HIDE THE STAINS

I’m sorry but brochures being ominous tickles my funny bone and works so well

The HAT. Carmen is so miffed. I wonder if she fixes that one or Player orders a new one

Using the origami as a scene change is pretty awesome.

All I have to say about Devineaux and Chief is that the company store bit is hysterical. She’s totally joking.

“The only acme agent who has been face to face with her” I love that this ends up being foreshadowing in itself for Julia’s meeting.

So pleased that I did not imagine that Player has facial recognition software. He might as well.

PIPPI PUNKSTOCKINGS. This man has the most amusing insults,

RIP Le Chevre

Player was already running that search before Carmen asked. Pro.

The moment Devineaux just sits down all smug like. Carmen 100% sees the upcoming tunnel and baits him.

“I did not recognize you without your evening wear” in order to be a main character in this show you must have a masters degree in QUIPS. This one is one of my favorites.

The meeting with Julia is so good. Carmen gets to have her win getting info, and Julia figures it out after she gets a moment to herself. Win for both of them.

Love a good classic on top of the train fight. And really the ending is fun. Leaving Paper Star behind and snagging the Magna cartas.

Lol the civilians never look up from their papers.

And oh boy. An innocent pickpocket for info is about to lead to a very dangerous season finale. Love that Carmen unknowingly set it all up.

[iwadori]

So I'm reading your works and I love them !! I was thinking of requesting some kind of drabble or whatever you like, about a female reader who has thick thighs and is somewhat plump and is in love with Tsukishima but he makes a comment about the food and she feels bad and when she meets Bokuto in the boot camp Bokuto is too cute and attentive to her asking for her number and a date. If you don't feel comfortable with this, just ignore it and good luck with your blog. Sorry my english is bad<3

When they make you insecure PT 5 (tsukishima,bokuto)

Part One Part Two  Part Three Part Four  Part Five Part 6

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

Tsukishima

You and Tsukishima have been dating in your first year (as you both went to the same middle school together.)

You were in love with Tsukishima, you always have been to be honest, but once you became officially boyfriend and girlfriend your feelings amplified.

But recently, Tsukishima hasn’t been so nice.  

“Y/N we’re going on another training camp at Nekoma” Hinata exclaimed running up to you, as you leaning against Tsukishima “and you get to come too this time!”

You recently became the new trainee manager as the third-year manager, Kikyoko, is going to graduate. Tsukishima acted as if you being around all the time in practice was the worst thing in the world, but Yamagucchi always assured you that ‘Tsukki’ was just joking.

“Oh well that’s fun...” you say entertaining Hinata’s excitement. You were kind of excited to go to the training camp too, as it was in Tokyo after all. You were always a big fan of volleyball as your dad used to play for the national team and you were planning to play on the girls team this year but you felt that you didn’t have the body for it (which was obviously not true.)

Hinata kept on rambling on before Tsukishima insulted him. “Gosh Kei, you don’t have to be so rude.” you complained, he slightly nudged you off of him and put on his headphones showing you that he was not in a good mood.

You let the rest of the practice continue, making notes of things and basically being Kiyoko’s shadow. As it ended, you waited outside for Tsukishima to walk home with you, but one of the guys told you he left 5 minutes ago. You knew there was no point of chasing after him so you just walked on your own, making you sigh in defeat.

Tsukishima was what you would describe as hot and cold. Some days he was fine a ‘perfect gentlemen’ but other days, days like this Tsukishima was just Tsukishima.  

When you got home, you decided to watch matches of all the other schools just to get some insight. You were watching a Fukarodani V Nekoma match from a few years ago and something caught your eye, well someone did to be more specific. A beefy, bicolour haired boy who was hooting like an owl was mesmerizing to watch.

You saw that his name was Bokuto Koutarou which triggered your next actions, which were to internet stalk him. You learned that he was the captain of the team and the team’s ace and the 5th ace in the country which piqued your interest in the boy even more.

‘This is going to be an exciting training camp’ you think to yourself before going to sleep.

`Kiyoko gave you an itinerary of all the things you should bring, since you weren’t going to be joining in any of the matches you were reminded to bring things that would keep entertained.  

You get to the bus at the crack of dawn, ready to be driven to Tokyo. Hinata and Kageyama were already arguing (let’s pretend that they didn’t have to do the retakes in the test) Tanaka and Nishinoya were being loud, and the rest of the members were already asleep. You wanted to sit next to Tsukishima but when you were about to sit down, he put his carryon bag in the seat next to him.

The bus ride was around 4-5 hours, and you spent your time reading and sleeping. Daichi got the loudmouths to calm down making the bus ride more tolerable. You suffered from slight motion sickness but you powered through.

When you arrived there, you saw all the other teams and their buses too. You felt a bit overwhelmed, seeing these tall boys just crowd around an entrance way. But too your surprise, noticing your slight anxiousness, Tsukishima grabbed your hand in a hand-hold.  

The Nekoma coach, explained how the day would pan out and where each team would be residing for the week. There was a lot of commotion getting everyone settled, Hinata and Nishinoya were basically bouncing off of the wall commenting on all the people and the place and how they’re going to ‘crush the competition.’  

You could tell that when the other teams were looking at Karasuno they were all staring at Kiyoko. Inquisitive about how there wasn’t only one girl manager but there was two. As you were walking your eyes locked with Bokuto Koutarou’s making yours widen, you blush and turn your head quickly.  

What you didn’t know was, after your small interaction, Bokuto elbowed Akaashi and said “Akaaashi AKKAAASHI, did ya see that? did ya?” he was flying with happiness “That girl from Karasuno smiled at me. She’s really pretty.”

“I think she’s from Karasuno” Akaashi said “So maybe you’ll see her around”

Bokuto stared off in the direction you were walking in “Yeah, hopefully.”

The first day, everyone got settled in and then the teams went straight into games. There were two different gyms and today, in gym 1, you were watching Karasuno V Nekoma. (By the way I literally don’t remember the teams at the training camp besides Nekoma, Karasuno and Fukarodani.) The game was very back a point each team making point after point, you already knew of Nekoma’s captain, Kuroo Testurou and the setter Kenma, you’ve actually played games with Kenma online before so you were fairly acquainted with him already.

The games ended and it was now dinner time, the canteen was packed with all the boys rushing to line up for the food. You waited at the back of the line, not really caring about when you got your food. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked over to see Boktuo,  

“Hi.” he said “I’m Bok-”

“Bokuto Koutarou!” You finished “I'm a big fan..” you cringed immediately at your excitement ‘pull it together Y/N’ you scold yourself.

“Oh well hi, I’m glad you know who I am” he said “and may I ask for your name?”  

“Oh I’m Y/N L/N” you say with a slight blush “I'm the trainee manager from Karasuno.”  

“Cool! Well I hope to see you aro-” he starts  

“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you, I already got your food for you.” Tsukishima said pulling at your arm a bit harshly, dragging you over to a table with the Karasuno team.

“Gosh Tsukki, no need to be so harsh” you say rubbing at your wrist, he didn’t apologize and just started eating his food.  

You look down at your plate and see the small portion that Tsukki got for you. The Karasuno bunch was being loud, as they usually are, so when you whisper “Tsukki what the fuck is this” whilst nudging him in the side, he didn’t hear you (or atleast he pretended he didn’t.) You tried again but a little louder saying, “Tsukishima what the fuck is this.” you realised you said it a bit too loud as the whole Karasuno table stopped their conversations to look over at the slight commontion you caused.

“What do you mean Y/N?” he said with a slight smirk on his face.

“I mean what’s with the portion size of a bird that you gave me?” you ask getting upset “Do you really think im that big?”

“Well, you could start eating less that’s for sure.” he said earning gasps from you and some of the people sitting at the table “Y/N let's face it, you eat like a pig and you look like an elephant, me making your food portion smaller is the least I could do.”  

By now you had tears in your eyes, Tsukishima was a dick. You knew this, everybody knew this to be honest, yet you still loved him. He wasn’t like this in middle school, yes he was a bit snarky and rude (but wasn’t every middle schooler?) High school Tsukishima was like a completely different person. As much as you wanted to run away and hide, you knew you couldn’t.  

So you stood up and said “Tsukishima, I’ve spent 3 years loving and pining after you, because I thought you were this great guy, but turns out you’re a huge asshole” you start making some of the people listening in smile in laughter “Tsukishima, I’ve hated this past year dating you, you’ve been such a huge dick and I’m finally stopping you. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” You start making your way to exit before finally saying “Oh and by the way I’m not the pig here, you are... oh and I’m breaking up with you.” You left, hearing a few laughs and some claps behind you.

You felt relieved, like the massive cloud that’s been over your head is finally gone. You went to the gym since you knew it was empty and picked up a ball to just throw it around a bit. After a while of ‘de-stressing,’ you hear someone else enter the gym.

“Oh I didn’t know you’d be here.” said Bokuto  

“Well here I am,” you say awkwardly “I can leave if you want me too, I know this is for actual volleyball players.”

“No no it’s fine you can definitely stay, in fact do you mind setting for me?” he asks  

“Sure, of course I don’t mind” you reply, excited you get to play with someone.  You haven’t played in ages, you always begged Tsukishima to just throw a ball around with you but he never did.  

You set to Boktuo a lot, with him always asking for ‘another one’ everytime he spiked the ball. Eventually, you were tired of setting and wanted to spike. You originally was a spiker to begin with taking after your dad. Thats why you took a liking to Bokuto in the first place cause he reminded you of the joys you had when watching your father play.

Bokuto set a ball to you and you spiked it with great strength and accuracy smiling at the burning feeling you felt in your palm.  

“Woahh” Bokuto shouted going towards you in amazement “Where did you learn how to spike like that?”

“From my dad, I don’t know if you heard of him before but my dad’s name is D/N L/N...?” you say

“D/N L/N, Y/N he is my idol!” he shouted again “I want to be just like him.”

“I think you can, I see a lot of similarites in the way you both play.” you say

“Really! And you’ve seen me play before..?” he asks

“Yeah, I watched some of your games before coming here... you’re really good” you shyly admit.

“Wow.”

You and Bokuto spend the rest of your time, talking about volleyball you’re interests, things you have in common, your likes and dislikes. Talking to Bokuto was refreshing, he didn’t randomly insult you or make snide comments about your weight or your looks. He just genuinely looked happy to be there talking to you, unlike Tsukishima.  

Seeing your change in mood, Bokuto stops talking and asks “are you alright? I forgot to ask earlier, but I saw what happened in the canteen and I hope you’re okay.”  

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just things with me and Tsukishima reached a breaking point, I guess...” you say sniffling a bit talking about it “But it’s fine now I’ve broken up with him and I feel better already.”

“So you’re saying your single...?” he asked blushing a bit

“Yeah I guess I am...” you smile blushing also.  

“Okay great...well I hope this isn’t too forward after everything happened with Tsukki and all but...” he starts “but would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Who me?” you ask as if you weren’t the only other person in the room

“No the volleyball” he responds sarcastically “Of course you Y/N.”  

“Are you sure, cause to be honest Bokuto you’re a really good-looking guy” you say making him smile widely “so I think you need someone to match your level in attractiveness” you look down and his smile drops.

“What do you mean?” he asks before realising all the stuff Tsukishima said about you “Y/N you’re beautiful, your face, your body just you.” you blush at his words “when I first saw you when you were walking past us in the entrance way the first thing I thought and said about you was “Akaashi who is that girl she’s beautiful.””  

“Really?” you ask with disbelief

“Mhm” he nods excitedly “So will you go on a date with me?”  

“I guess so...” you say a bit unsure

“HEY HEY HEY!” he exclaims “I gotta go tell akaashi!” he runs out of the gym in a hurry making you laugh, but he comes back to give you a quick unexpected kiss on the cheek making you smile.

You checked your phone for the time realising that you’ve been with Bokuto for 3 hours and you knew that everyone would be going to sleep now. As you are the manager you slept seperately from the rest of the team but before you went to your sleeping quaters you went to Karasunos.  

“Y/N where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.” asked yammagucchi  

“It’s fine yams don’t worry about it, guys” you say catching everyones attention “I just wanted to apologise to you for my outburst at dinner, it wasn’t my intention to cause a scence.”

“It’s fine Y/N” said sugawara “He definitely deserved it.”

“Yeah as your marvellous senpai we gave him a good telling off” said Tanaka and Nishinoya  making you chuckle.  

“Okay well thanks guys, I’m going to sleep goodnight.”

“Wait Y/N can I speak with you.” asked Tsukishima gesturing to outside the room

“Umm sure” you respond following him into the corridor.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and done over the past year and how I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, you don’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.”  

“I can’t say I can forgive you yet.” you say making Tsukishima look sad “but maybe with effort from you we can become friends possibly?”  

“Just friends?” he said with hope in voice thinking that you could be something more.

“Just friends.” you repeated and confirmed “Besides I have been asked on a date”  

“With who?”  

“None of your business stingyshima” you mock the nickname that Hinata calls him making him scowl and you smile “Goodnight.”

After Bokuto’s confession and Tsukishima’s apology, the rest of the training camp went off without a hitch. In your breaks and lunchtimes, you got to know more about Bokuto and with Kuroo’s help you even got to sneak out to actually go on your date. You sometimes even went to practice with them getting to show off your skills, with Bokuto cheering you on and complimenting you every single time.  

Tsukishima kept his distance for the most part, and kept the snarky comments about you and Bokuto to himself (even though he was dying to say them.) You eventually fully forgave Tsukishima in your 3rd year but you definitely weren’t as close as you used to be. Tsukishima’s comments and actions did affect you for a while however with the help of your loving boyfriend, you were reminded how beautiful you are no matter what weight, shape or height you were.

You and Bokuto stayed together, you made sure to come to every one of his games and when you introduced him to your dad he fainted on sight. Your dad and Bokuto got along, and became very close friends, Bokuto always came to him for advice (especially volleyball advice.) You loved Bokuto and he definitely loved you too.

AN: I hope you liked it, since I didn’t want to make it too similar too the Atsumu insecure one. And I feel like it dragged out a bit but got rushed in the endd....but oh well...

[myhaikyuuthings]

“daddy?” HCs

request:  May you please do Kuroo, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Iwa’s reaction to single mother y/n child calling them “papa” or “daddy” for the first time? Thank you 🥺

warnings: just so much fluff omg

pairings: kuroo x fem!reader, bokuto x fem!reader, akaashi x fem!reader, iwaizumi x fem!reader

Kuroo:  Daughter, age 5

the two of you had been together for awhile, he spent many weekends with you and your daughter

this particular weekend, he took the two of you to the amusement park, wanting to ‘treat you both for being so cute’

you three spent a lot of time on the kiddie rides, your daughter laughing loudly and pulling you both around to see Everything

if she was tall enough to ride it, you three would

when you all reached the section filled with ‘carnival’ games, her eyes lit up and you just knew what was coming

well kind of

“Daddy!! Can we play? I want a kitty” she had yelled out excitedly, tugging him by his hand towards the stands

you froze, worried about how Kuroo would react

he was frozen too, staring down at her in shock

“Daddy come on,” your daughter whined, pouting when he didn’t move

in a split second, he had her in his arms hugging her tightly 

“We can play all the games you want, you want a kitty? we will win you fifty kitties! You can have a real kitty if you want!” 

you were about to remind him, that no she cannot have a real kitty, when he turned to you with tears streaming down his face

“she called me daddy.. I love  you both so much god I hope that’s okay with you” “We love you too daddy!” “Yeah we love you too baby”

she ended up getting her kitten not a week later, and Kuroo moved in not too long after tbh

Bokuto: Son, age 7

your son loved Bokuto and you were so glad he did

a part of you guessed it was because Bokuto did anything and everything your son wanted

he wants a tree house? Bokuto’s figuring out how to make it happen

he wants to play hide n seek for hours? Bokuto Will entertain him

Bokuto really just loved the both of you, he had since day one

but he is a professional volleyball player, and sometimes he has to go out of town for games

and both of your boys hate it, they’re practically connected at the hip when together

you felt terrible, seeing your boyfriends pouty teary eyed face on your phone screen, your son sitting in your lap in the same state

so you bought plane tickets and went to surprise him

your son wore a tshirt with Bokuto’s number on it, practically vibrating in the stands as you waited for Bokuto’s team to come out

you had called the coach and managed to score seats pretty close to the court

he didn’t notice you two when he first came out, a pout on his face probably from you missing his call

“Daddy! Kick their butts!!!” your son yelled out, sticking his tongue out at the other team and shocking everyone around you

Bokuto spun around, seeing the two of you and bursting into tears

“You got it little man! Daddies gonna kick their asses!!!” “Kotaro!!”

the minute the game ended, he had both of you in his arms pressing kisses all over your faces and just sobbing

“You called me daddy” “well duh that’s what you are right?” “Yeah I’m your daddy!” he was totally crying the entire time

Akaashi: Son, age 12

you two had been together for three years

you introduced him to your son a year ago, and while they got along, things were tense at first

your son remembered his father, and a part of him hoped the two of you would get back together and he saw Akaashi as someone standing in the way of that

when he saw how much happier you looked, he reluctantly warmed up to your boyfriend

after a particularly bad weekend at his fathers, he came home to Akaashi cooking while you let him talk about how it went

“He took my phone so I couldn’t even text you! All I said was if he wanted you back so bad he should’ve treated you how Keiji does.” “y/s/n, he shouldn’t have taken your phone but you can’t talk to your father that way”

well he was mad at you too now, so the three of you sat at the dinner table in relative silence

“So y/s/n, your mom told me you’re planning on joining the volleyball club?” “Yeah I want to be the ace” “I used to play in middle and high school, I set for Bokuto, if you want I can help you practice”

even though he was ignoring you, you felt your heart swell as they made plans together

they practiced together for weeks, gradually improving when it happened

“Did you see that dad?! I rocked that!!!” “You were great, think you can give me another like that?”

Akaashi handled it so calmly but internally he was so happy

Iwaizumi: Daughter, age 10

he had been in your daughters life for two years

at this point, you all had fallen into a comfortable  way of living

he didn’t live with you two yet, but you all were moving into a new house that weekend

your friends had offered to help, so most of his old classmates and some of your friends were there

your daughter was unpacking the boxes in her bedroom while you were unpacking the kitchen, the guys moving the rest of the furniture in

“Iwa-chan you’re feeding us right?” “You already know y/n ordered food, it’ll be here soon, what’re you getting at?” “Oh right i forgot”

you had to hold back your laughter when you noticed your daughter listening in from her doorway as the two grown men started bickering like old times

“you can’t call me that! there is a child in the house!” Oikawa had shrieked, your daughter laughing loudly at the insult

“Dad that fits him so well omg” she cackled, high fiving Iwaizumi, ignoring the offended look on Oikawa’s face

Your boyfriend’s smile was so big and proud, you honestly started tearing up

“oh so he’s dad when  he’s insulting me?” “he’s always my dad, stupid-kawa”  

Iwaizumi beamed, patting her head “yeah stupid-kawa, i think i like this nickname a little more”

[jaemsun00]

Nct mark + 00 line when you give them an unexpected blowjob.

This is mature, do not interact if it make you uncomfortable. Exhibitionism acts.

- MARK

It was almost midnight and Mark was still stuck at the company room at the desk, writing whatever words came to his mind. You sat a fair bit away on your own chair, spinning around tiredly. He has told you, you should go home and go to sleep but you refused to leave him alone.

“This is so fucking annoying” you heard him swear, before ripping the paper out of the book, scrunching it up and failing to chuck it in the bin right beside his feet.

Just as you were about to say something a very interesting idea came to your mind. Mark has admitted that he has been feeling very uninspired to write any of his lyrics lately. Maybe he needed something to get the inspiration back.

Slowly walking towards him, you planned it out. It was going to be simple and Mark would not dare to say no to what your thinking.

Mark snapped his head when your hand touched his shoulder softly. “Let’s do something” you smile weirdly at him and he did eyes you. “I would love to but I have to finish this by tomorrow” he motioned to his book.

“I can help you” Mark tried not to let out a laugh when you said that. It’s no secret that your not talented in that area. “To get inspiration I mean” you scoff seeing how he was hiding his laughter. “Oh yeah? How you gonna do that?”

He was oblivious to your plan which made it seem even better. Mark was taken back when you spun his chair around and slowly dropped to your knees in between his legs. “Like this” you smile up at him, seeing how he gulped when you two made eye contact. he lifted his hips for you to slip his pants down and get right to work.

- RENJUN

“It’s very pretty” you smile at the painting Renjun has been working on the past two hours. You’ve barely been awake two minutes and he was forcing you to see all the drawings he has worked on lately. “You reckon?” He took the paper back and admired it himself.

“Mmm. Now can we go to beddd” you whine, hands resting on his desk as he shook his head. Ever since you’ve woken up with no boyfriend beside you, you’ve been whining to him about it. “Go by yourself” scoffing, you stood tall over his sitting figure.

“Renjun” he hummed as a response making you a bit more mad. But why not play with him a bit. “Renjun” you try again in a more sing song voice. Your boyfriend still ignored you. Thankfully the desk he was working on was easy to get underneath, yeah you hit your head once but who cares.

Renjun was a bit weirded out with you crawling under the table, but he wasn’t expecting your hand rubbing at him through his pants. “Baby?” He groaned out, pushing his chair back to see you smiling up at him. “Your just gonna-“ “okay I’m going to bed.” You say getting up, but Renjun was faster to grab onto your wrist. “You can’t leave. You’ve started something” “if you come to bed then I’ll finish it” your smile was so cunningly that Renjun couldn’t say no and followed you back to bed.

- JENO

It was funny, seeing how normal Jeno was trying to be while talking through the headset with Haechan. But you continued your task, bopping your head up and down on his length. “Go le- fuck left” your boyfriend tried to hide his moan. Haechan must of said something back because Jeno told him to shut up.

“I kicked my toe” he lied through his clenched teeth, just as you planned you took him in your mouth fully, gagging a bit. That just made Jeno want to cry out. You’ve never done this, never have you thought you would be doing this. But here you are, on your knees and giving your boyfriend a blow job under his desk.

“Okay I’m gonna- I’m gonna go” he stuttered before quickly taking his headset off and placing it on the keyboard. His head dropped down to see you doing your task. “Fuck you look so pretty” he smiled, hands running through your messy hair, making a make shift ponytail as his hips bucked into your face. Taking you by surprise.

- HAECHAN

The only reason why you were waiting under your boyfriend desk was because of the stuff you over heard him and some of his mates talking about. How he would love to get head under the desk while he played a game on his computer.

“I’ve got food” you heard his voice before the door opened, Hacehan saw the empty bed and sighed. Thinking maybe you went home already with how long he was taking. Just as he was about to take his phone out, he saw you shift in your spot under the table.

“What are you doing?” You crawl out of the small spot, facing Haechan who looked so confused right now. “Well I was- I was going to surprise you with... with-“ you felt so stupid having to explain it. Hacehan had no clue what was going on in your mind.

“With? Scaring me?” You shake your head, god how you wished someone would come in and save you from the embarrassment your about to face. “I was going to suck you off while you played the game” you mumble but Haechan heard it all. Quickly smiling at your words.

“Oh really?” You could hear the teasing smirk he wore but you couldn’t let him see how red your cheeks have turned since admitting that. “Well what’s stopping you? Get back under” he waved his hands towards the desk and started walking towards it. “Your? Uh” you let out a nervous laugh.

“Don’t say your getting shy now, come on you said you wanted to” he smiled so innocently at you as he sat on his gaming chair, leaving a space for you to crawl back under. “The food will go cold” “who cares. I don’t want blue balls”

- JAEMIN

“What are you doing?” Jaemin laughed as your wondering hands made their way to his thighs. He was just peacefully laying on the bed, laptop propped up beside him as he watched some sort of drama. “Nothing” you lie before your hand starts going further up to his cock, rubbing lightly before he grabbed at your wrist.

“You have work soon” he warned as if that was going to stop you. You nod, trying to move your hand again. “Your going to be late if you start it up” he looked down at his pants which were loose around his waist. “And? It will be fine”

Jaemin wanted it tell you no, you had a job to do and last time you went in late your boss threatened your job. But as soon as you started peeling his pants off, the words in his mouth disappeared. But your mouth, your mouth was now full with him. Eyes never left his own as you licked his tip.

“Your- fuck that feels good” he moaned out, hands running through your hair and playing with it as you worked on him. Jaemin felt himself grow hard and big in your mouth and gosh it felt too good not to lift his hips to get more friction.

- YANGYANG

He has spoken to you about this before, how it would be amazing if you gave him head as he played a game. Being bored all day you decided today was the best time to do it. What you didn’t expect was YangYang to have his mic on.

So he would just have to be quite. You usually sat on the floor studying as he played his games. So he thought nothing of it as you moved closer to his legs. The shorts he wore giving away how he wasn’t wearing any boxers right now. He had no plans so it didn’t surprise you.

“Nah nah I work fair and square your just a bad player” you have no idea who he was insulting, nor did you care. Yangyang stopped moving when he felt you prying his shorts off. It was hard as he didn’t lift his hips, giving up on trying you just pull his member out.

“One second” YangYang spoke, muting himself before staring down at you. “What are you doing baby?” He laughed as you started moving your hand up his shaft. “Nothing much” you shrug as if you weren’t making him harder in your hands. “Turn the mic back on”

Yangyang widened his eyes at you, slowly shaking his head. “I don’t think the boys want to hear that” “just do it” your eyes tell him he should listen. So he does, clicking the mute off and getting back to his arguing members.

You licked the underside did his length before shoving him whole in your mouth. Yangyang stuttered his words as he tried to focus on playing. But it was rather hard when you were blowing him right now. “Holy fuck” he let out loudly, his members thinking maybe he died in the game.

- SHOTARO

“Please” he begged but you ignored him again, laying on his lap as he tried to push you off. “Your my personal pillow so no. I’m not moving” you whine back at him, moving your head on his lap as he just sighed, letting you win this time.

The movie he watched continued playing as you turned your head, meeting his crotch and a smirk grew on your face. Shotaro clearly didn’t know your thoughts even when you moved to your side, so your face was met right where his dick rested.

“Are you hungry?” He asked innocently, pulling out his phone so he could order. “I’m very hungry” you say sensually but your boyfriend was oblivious to it.

“What do you want? Chicken? Or-“ “you” you spit out making him laugh awkwardly. “Yeah well I’m not edible so-“ you scoff at him, hands running down his stomach, feeling how he shivered every time your hand got closer.

“Right here? Sungchan will be back soon and I’m sure he-“ “it’s fine baby we just need to be fast” Shotaro didn’t know why his dick was growing at your words. Does he want to get caught? While he was in his thoughts you were pulling him out of his briefs. Already getting started with your hand.

“We can always go into your room?” The boy shook his head, lifting his hips so he could push his pants down to his ankles. “Just let’s be fast” you smiled at his words. You always get what you want either way or another. “I’m sure we will be very fast”

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

[eremiie]

Hi! I love your writing! Could you maybe do something for Eren where the reader is good friends with Jean and they hang out a lot, which leads to a heated argument with Eren, who ends up admitting his insecurities about losing her and it gets all fluffy and cute from there? Thank you💜🥰

futile competition;

❥ eren x reader | 3k words | fluff

❥ in which eren gets a little envious & reader has to reassure him

❥ hi! thank you sooo much<3, i hope i did this request justice aksjskak, enjoy :)

"jean, how did you even sprain your ankle in the first place?" you were sat idle on the wooden bleacher with jean next to you, the two of you conversing freely instead of jean being out practicing with the rest of the football team because of his sprained limb.

"i landed wrong during practice a couple days ago. when i went to the doctor they told me to sit out for two weeks."

"two weeks? so you're gonna miss next weeks game?"

"yeah but your boyfriend and reiner are two of the best players, they'll be fine without me for a game."

you shrugged your shoulders looking towards the field, looking for eren. during games you'd be able to spot him quite easily as he always adorned the large number five on his back, but of course like majority of the team he was shirtless, the only reason you could spot him being the way his bun was on the verge of falling out his hair and cascading over his shoulders.

"you're like the weakest link on the team, they're doing much better without you." you joked, causing jean to roll his eyes and shove you over in the slightest. "jean, i will kick you in the leg that's hurt, stop." your giggling made him break out into a smile, him putting his hands up in mock surrender.

jean and you were quite good friends, occasionally hanging out in and out of school, you having met him through your closest friends sasha and connie. the only reason that you two were hanging out during his practice was because you told eren you'd wait for him afterwards so you could spend this friday with him to his request.

"jaeger, focus!" the coach exasperated, flailing his arms outwards at eren's fumble. eren cursed under his breath, and wiped the sweat off of his brow, looking away from you and jean before picking himself up off the ground. "go run a lap and stop letting your girlfriend distract you. everyone else go get water then locker rooms!"

you chuckled at eren being disciplined, watching him make his way out the field to the track to run his lap, jean laughing beside you. "he's such a kiss ass, he's just trying to impress you." jean shook his head as he spoke.

"i don't know why, we're already dating."

jean nodded his head in agreement, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up. "do you need help?" you questioned standing up abruptly to help him steady himself, a subconscious reaction if you must, as it was just in your nature to be helping.

"nah, nah, i'm good, i'm not disabled or anything, it's just a sprained ankle." jean shrugged you off, and it's true, he was of course fine for the most part, but he also didn't want eren getting angry at a simple gesture from you, as he tended to do quite often. "let's just go back to the gym."

୨୧

eren exited the empty locker rooms, clear irritation spread across his face. his lack of concentration during practice, and jean's stupid face flirting with you was fogging his mind.

"eren!" you called out to your boyfriend, him turning his head after nodding a small goodbye to his coach. you gave jean a small hug before he started waddling away on his one foot and you starting to make your way towards the brunette, eren struggling to suppress an eye roll. "hi baby," your arms wrapped around his waist and he hesitantly reciprocated, letting his circle your shoulders.

"hey." his tone grumbly and dry, but you didn't let your mind wander too much on it.

"i see practice wasn't the best today. was it because of me?" a mischievous grin graced your face as you and eren began to exit the gym, heading towards his car.

yeah, something like that.

"no, it was fine, i just slipped up a couple times." your thumb brushed over eren's hand a couple times before he pulled back to pull his keys out of his backpack that was hung over his shoulder. "get in the car," and then him unlocking it with a press of a button, his presence leaving your side as he went over to the drivers side of the car. you didn't like the way he so casually brushed you off, as eren was usually excited to see you after practice. he would occasionally shower you in kisses, and wipe his sweat all over you and have you shuddering in disgust, but the aloof personality taking place was never present to you, so of course you couldn't help but think it was strange.

you slid into the passengers seat with your own bag sat in between your feet on the floor, and initially decided not to converse with the boy for the rest of the car ride, leaning your head against the window and occasionally glancing at eren who you didn't even see look your way once. seriously, what was his problem? if you knew he was going to act like this while you were at his house the rest of the evening you'd would've went home faster than he could blink.

"______, c'mon." eren murmured before he shut the door to the drivers side, walking towards his front door leaving you still attempting to collect your belongings so you could follow him. you were so stuck in thought that you didn't even realize the two of you had made it to eren's house.

"_____, hi! it's been so long since eren has brought you home, how are you?" mrs. jaeger's (who many times has insisted you called her carla) cheery tone flooded your ears as you entered the household, eren shutting the door behind you and barely even uttering a 'hi.' to his mother or mikasa. despite this you couldn't help but smile at carla, the lady was so sweet and kind and you genuinely couldn't figure where eren got his temper, or stubbornness from.

"hi mrs. jaeger-"

"please, just call me carla." her figure danced her way towards you and her nimble fingers turned you around facing the stairs so she could shed your backpack off for you, and only then did you realize eren had disappeared from sight, leaving behind only the sound of creaky stair steps.

you sighed, and of course carla put two and two together, but not before mikasa who was sat on the kitchen stool facing the stairs as well, in the middle of helping eren's mom with kitchen work. "what's wrong with eren?" she brushed aside her ebony hair and made her way over to the stairs, carla placing a hand on her shoulder to halt her movement.

"mikasa honey, just leave him alone for now, he gets like that sometimes." carla gave you a sorry smile already knowing her sons antics. "i'm sure _____ will get through to him if that's what he needs, right?" mikasa's eyes flickered to you, an unreadable, almost blank expression on her face before she nodded and you let out a small, "right," her walking back over to her position at the stool.

"do you want any snacks, or anything? i know it's been a long day at school and all,"

"it's fine mrs. jaeger, i'm not hungry."

"alright, will you be staying for dinner, i could make your favorite?"

"i'm not sure yet," as many times as your answer would be yes you weren't lying, with eren's strange demeanor you weren't sure how long you could stay in the household even with carla catering to you, her joyous aura wasn't enough.

"okay well let me know, i'll let you go now," she leaned into your ear, her black strands tickling your face, "let me know if anything."

soon enough you were following in eren's steps on your way to his room. you slowly pushed the oak door open seeing eren wasn't in his room and assumed he went to take a shower. you had no problem sitting and waiting as it gave you a second to conjure your thoughts as well, you taking a spot on his bed.

it wasn't long before he appeared back though, him opening and closing his door, eyes flashing to you for only a second. he threw the towel around his neck that was stopping his damp hair from dripping onto his abdomen onto his desk chair and slid on only a pair of sweatpants before crawling on his bed. "scoot over," and you did, making space so he could lay next to you, the smell of his body wash evident on his skin.

the slight tension was unnerving as you played with your fingers where they sat in between your crossed legs, eren paying you little to no mind. "what's your problem?" you couldn't help but ask, as many times as you played the details of the day back in your head you couldn't find a bump in the road, anything that would make him act so distant.

"my problem? i don't have one."

you struggled to not roll your eyes, instead raising a brow. "seriously? you didn't talk to me in the car, you're barely talking to me now, didn't you want me to come and spend today with you?"

"yeah, but i'm sure you rather be spending today with jean, right?"

oh.

you pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at the boy who's eyes were finally fixated on you. your arms crossed and you bit back an insult, since one was definitely a part of the options you were weighing in your brain. "excuse me?"

"you heard me," he sat up, his muscles flexing underneath his skin as he propped himself up on the bed. "you and him have been so comfortable lately. i'm pretty sure you hang out with him more than me anyways." he huffed, a fire blazing behind his turquoise eyes (which not to mention you always found mesmerizing, even through his anger.)

you grimaced, eren was clearly blinded by his frustration. he seemed to forget how you came over almost every weekend, not to mention a few times throughout the week as well, how you spent majority of lunches with him and how the two of you were a literal couple. it wasn't your fault you and jean had more than one class together, and seemingly got along. he was good company, you couldn't deny that, and you knew him before you even knew eren.

"eren i spend so much time with you, what the hell are you talking about? is that what's bothering you?"

"it doesn't bother me," and of course he was lying straight to your face. "i could care less. do what you want with horseface."

okay now he was being dramatic.

you stifled a laugh at the stupidity that escaped his mouth, how could he make such a vague assumption? "you could care less? so why are you acting all pouty and not talking to me? if you didn't care we'd be all good right now, stop being all mad for no reason."

"i have a reason to be mad,"

"so you admit that you're mad?"

"i mean-"

"and if you're mad then you obviously care?"

"can you let me talk, damnit? you always do that, just let me talk."

"then talk, eren, it's gonna be nonsense anyways. why can't you just trust me? i've been friends with jean before we even started dating, if i wanted him then we would've been a couple before me and you."

"that doesn't stop him from flirting with you and being all touchy and shit, i don't like that,"

"it doesn't matter what you like or not, it matters what's true, and whats not true is that he flirts with me, he doesn't, and he's not touchy either, you're literally being delusional."

"i'm delusional?" this time eren rolled his eyes, his voice raising in the slightest and he was now sitting straight up, giving you a small shove in demonstration of what jean did earlier. "when he shoved you like that he wasn't flirting with you? and when you two were laughing and shit he wasn't trying to flirt with you?"

"eren don't touch me," you pushed his hand away once it made contact with you, a crease in your eyebrow evident from your rising anger as well. "we can't laugh now? like what the fuck sense does that make to you? you're literally just jealous."

"jealous of what? of kirstein?" disbelief was evident in his tone.

“who else? nobody just acts like that for no reason, you’re jealous, eren.” you began to stand up ready to just leave, crawling over eren’s body to make your way towards the door. you couldn’t stand when eren couldn’t admit to his fault, i mean; it was his fault right? he was stubborn, and it was irritating.

but eren on the other hand couldn’t let you leave, he didn’t have time for his mom to scold him for upsetting you, or for mikasa to bombard him with aimless questions, better yet, for jean to find out the two of you were fighting, or worse, fighting over him.

before your hand could reach his doorknob his hand reached your wrist, eren pulling you backwards towards him in the gentlest manner he could muster, you turning towards him your expression still vexed. “eren, just let go of me, i get it.” but his grip remained, him using his other hand to turn your frame towards him by your waist.

"i’m not jealous, i just feel like i shouldn’t be having to compete with another guy for my own girlfriend!" he sputtered abruptly, and the hand on your waist clenched at your t-shirt, while the grip on your wrists tightened. you were caught somewhat off guard looking up at eren, curiosity brewing at his sudden outburst.

“what?”

“i just... i don’t want to lose you to some idiot,” he could no longer meet your eyes, his facade dropping and a new side of him he hadn’t shown being unveiled to you.

“eren..” your free hand rested on his shoulder and you slowly walked him back towards his bed until the back of his knees hit it and caused him to plop down on the covers, “baby, you’re not gonna lose me... you couldn’t lose me over something like that.”

eren’s gaze was still shy to meet yours, but his other hand made its way to your waist as well, pulling you down on top of him until you were straddling his lap, him pulling you close so his arms wrapped around you. “i know, but...” he struggled to get the rest of his words out, not even sure how to convey them to you regardless of how understanding you’d be with him.

“eren, look at me,” you grabbed his face between your palms, smoothing out his loose brown locks so you could get a clear sight of him, training your eyes on his. you loved the way blue swam across his green eyes, and the way his bottom lip jutted out slightly as if he was constantly pouting. he was so gorgeous to you, even through his anger. “i’m yours, i’m all yours, and you’re mine. nobody, not even jean can get between me and you, i love you, i date you. jean and i are just friends, and you don’t need to let him get in your head like that.”

eren pouted his bottom lip before leaning his head against your chest, you raking your fingers through his hair until the hair tie loosened around it. he relished in the feeling of your warm skin against his and your hands attempting to place another messy bun in his strands of damp hair. “i just feel like i’m not doing enough for you sometimes... like he could give you something that i’m not.”

“eren you are enough for me, like i said, i’m dating you, not anyone else, if you weren’t doing enough for me i wouldn’t be with you. i love everything about you baby.”

“you sure?”

“yes, why wouldn’t i be sure? even with how stubborn you are, and how angry you can get, and how jealous,” you lifted his head from your chest, pressing your lips to his forehead with a grin. “you can get, there are so many good aspects about you that i love and i won’t leave you because. you know... just don’t hurt me.”

eren couldn’t help but let a smile grace his own face as well, hands drifting up your back until they reached the back of your head, pulling you down to connect your lips to his fervently. you loved the way his lips felt on yours, his slightly chapped but so perfect when paired with your own. his attempt to deepen the kiss was futile as you pulled back with a giggle, eren shaking his head and laying back pulling you on top of him some more, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he pecked a kiss to your hair.

“so i’m not gonna lose you?”

“no baby.” another peck to his chest.

“you love me? and my anger issues, which i don’t have?”

a roll of your eyes and another laugh let out from you as you kicked his leg from under yours causing him to laugh as well, subconsciously squeezing your body tighter on top of his. “i love you, and your anger issues which you do have.”

eren pinched your sides, smirking from above you. “i love you too, babe.”

a quick knock at the door made both you and eren turn your heads, but the door was open before eren could even utter a “come in,” carla’s figure with a worried expression on her face that quickly turned to surprise when she noticed the two of you cuddling. “oh! i’m so sorry, i heard the two of you arguing earlier and i thought she had left when i was upstairs, i-“

“mrs. jaeger, it’s perfectly fine.” you smiled picking yourself up off of eren awkwardly who sat up as well.

“mom! you could’ve waited after knocking!” eren groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“you guys are so cute,” her hand covered her mouth as she squealed, smiling sweetly at her son and you. “are you staying for dinner, _____, it’s almost ready, i’m having mikasa set the plates now so i want to know.”

there was no harm in staying a little longer. “sure, i can stay.”

“great! okay, i’ll leave the two of you alone now.” soon after, eren’s door was shut and the remnants of carla’s voice wandered as she walked down the hall, something resembling an “oh, they’re so adorable!” and you and eren couldn’t help but laugh.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I really wanna know what happened during the painful bath that Nanda promised Jameson a while back. Baths in whump have the potential to be so soothing and excruciating at the same time, which kinda fits Jameson’s whole character don’t you think?

CW: Pet whump, dehumanizing language, intimate whumper, dubcon touch NSFW (not explicit), implied dubcon (fade to black), referenced blood and whipping, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, creepy comfort, drowning, talk of sui (to escape torture), implied death by drowning (unnamed oc)

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

NEW VIDEOS of the Box Boy Killer! Never Before Seen!

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee 14h ago

So I got a really good response to my short series on the mysterious Box Boy Serial Killer (you can find my previous write-ups here, here, and here).

Well, recently I discovered something entirely new that I think you'd enjoy getting a look at! Found among personal items belonging to Nathaniel "Nanda" Matthew Benson: a medium-sized external hard drive containing nearly 750GB of photo and video content.

The hard drive was labeled 'Personal'. Police stated there was a second hard drive labeled 'Professional', but what content was on there, if anything, has never been released.

Technically, neither has this. Someone from within the police department leaked a bunch of videos and photos at some point, and I was able to get ahold of them thanks to a friend of a friend (who shall go unnamed, don't want to tip off whatever FBI agent is watching his internet activity, haha... or is it her or their internet activity... FBI Agent will never know.)

In my writeup on Nanda Benson's life with his Boxie, I didn't have a ton of details on how they interacted with each other. Finding this trove of info definitely changed a few things on how I view their relationship.

Take a look and let me know if it makes you maybe reconsider a few details, too. FYI: This does have nudity and some spicy times! Nothing worse than you've seen on HBO or whatever, but like, fair warning.

[Embedded Video Player With Title: Bathtime With Boxie: NSFW and Yet Somehow Still Oddly Wholesome Kind Of]

The video begins with the tub already filled with water, hot enough to gently steam. It's a gigantic soaker tub, large enough for four people to easily sit without crowding, nestled alongside a window in a truly enormous, incredibly well-lit bathroom. Everything is in shades of white, which makes the person in the frame even more immediately the enter of attention.

A young man with short, shaggy brown hair and dark eyes sits in the tub. He looks up, wrinkling his nose and glancing away. Only then does a bright red mark, darkening already to a bruise become obvious on one side of his neck.

"Don't fucking tape this," He says. His voice is slightly rough-edged, as if he's been screaming, and he sounds exhausted. "That's weird. Not taping the fucking but taping the after bit."

Red welts are visible above the line of water, marking his shoulders and arms. The welts are a deep red that is nearly purple - they are surrounded by bright red irritated flesh.

"Oh, but I like you like this." The voice holding the camera is deep and amused. The camera wobbles slightly and then settles, and soon enough a second man enters the screen. It's clearly Nanda Benson himself, stark naked.

Where the Boxie is heavily bruised and beaten, Nanda himself would be spotless if he weren’t flecked with drying red spots that are clearly the pet's blood.

"Yeah, well." The pet shifts to the side as Nanda steps in, hissing softly in contentment at the sudden burst of heat when he enters the water. He settles down against a bench set in to the side of the tub, and opens his arms.

The pet moves immediately into them, without hesitating. His eyes flicker nervously back to the camera and then away again.

"Yeah, well-... yeah well what, pet?" Nanda laughs as he pulls the Boxie into his lap, toying one hand already damp from the tub over the ring at the front of his collar. "Cat got your tongue after that fun we had together?"

"Tongue's the only thing you didn't take," The pet responds, almost playfully flirtatious. "I guess you'd miss it too fucking much."

"If I took your voice, who would call me a fucking idiot before I fuck him into the ground, hm?"

The pet flushes, looking down at the water, at the slightest pink of his blood still running into it. "Sir-"

"Ssssshhhh. I like you insulting me. I like punishing you for it more." Nanda mouths at the unmarked side of the pet's neck, pulling him back-to-chest where he sits, so he's facing the camera directly again. The pet's back arches when Nanda's teeth dig in, making a soft, high-pitched whine as his head drops back onto the man's shoulder.

The camera picks up the quiet splash of water as the pet tries to move away and is pulled roughly right back, catches the refracted sight of Nanda's hands on the pet's thighs forcing them apart, each of his calves on the outside of Nanda's thighs.

"Please-... H-hurts-"

"You love it," Nanda whispers, and bites down again, right into the crook of the pet's neck where it meets his shoulder. The cry this time is wild with a mix of pain and something darker, the pet's hands moving helplessly up and back to clasp just behind Nanda's head. His back is nearly a bow, every muscle trembling with a need to escape and to hold perfectly still, both at once.

When Nanda pulls back this time, the camera picks up the blood smeared on his teeth before he runs his tongue over them. It finds the light glinting off the fresh blood welling from the new bite along the pet's shoulder.

"It's too much," The pet says, struggling to sit back up straight, turning to look at Nanda. For a moment, his shaggy damp hair and angle hides his expression from the camera's gaze.

The twist of his spine, though, shows the bloodied whiplashes making their way up his back nearly to the nape of his neck.

"It's too much," The pet repeats, in a whisper. "Please. Please, it's too fucking much, if you fuck me again I'll fucking die. Please."

"Now, pet," Nanda teases, flirts shamelessly, running his wet hands through the pet's hair. He grips on tight and forces his head back again. The profile of the pet's face shows the slight bump of a broken nose healed almost perfectly, but not quite. The gasp he makes when Nanda's free hand presses over the welts on his chest is loud enough for the camera to catch. "You know you don't get to say when it's too much."

"You'll f-fucking kill me," The pet protests, voice tight from the angle forcing his collar to dig painfully into his throat. "Please, I... everything hurts so much..."

"You love the pain." Nanda's eyes look up to meet the camera before a more sinister smile finds its way across his face. "I know what you can take better than you do, pet, and I think you can handle one more. Sssshhh, here we go. There..." Nanda exhales softly as the two of them shift in the tub, the pet making a soft pained sound, his hips rolling as he is worked slowly down into position.

Then Nanda chuckles and slides his entire arm over the welts marking the pet's torso, holding him tightly in place. "Now take a deep breath."

"Wh-what?" The pet's eyes widen, comprehension coming a half-second too late. "Wait, don't-"

Nanda's hand gripped into the pet's hair plunges him forwards, bent at the waist, forcing the Box Boy's head suddenly under the water. The pet struggles desperate trying to get his head back up to breathe. Nanda grunts in a rhythm as his hips snap up and down again. He groans, "So fucking tight, goddamn I love you, you fucking slut for me-"

[/END VIDEO]

The video cuts off there, but my friend tells me the rest of it is basically the kind of stuff you have to pay a monthly fee for everywhere else on the internet.

But there's another video, from way later, that I find a really interesting contrast and comparison. Same friend got me this one. It involves Robert, whose write-up you can see right here.

[EMBEDDED VIDEO: Titled Holy Shit, No Wonder He Killed Him]

The screen is black for a few seconds, with the sound of someone taking the cap off a camera before things come into blurry view and then slowly into focus.

The bathroom in this video is tiny. It's barely large enough for everything in it, and a person sitting on the toilet will damn near bash their knees into the side of the bathtub. The grout in the tile floor is dark with old stains, and the tile itself needs either serious scrubbing or an exorcism.

Sitting naked in the bathtub is a young man with long blond hair that hangs in filthy, dirty clumps down to his shoulders. His face is streaked with mud and worse, and he has a black eye that has nearly swelled his left eye shut entirely. His hands are bound with rope stained brown with dried blood, held up in front of him.

His one good eye, maybe blue, follows with a kind of resigned terror the person behind the camera.

He sits in water up to his waist, but by the way he is shivering, it's clear that the water is not even warm, let alone hot. Further bruises mark his ribcage and his legs. One leg juts out in front, and something about it seems like it might be broken.

The camera is handheld, panning slowly from the young man's torn and lacerated heels and feet through his bruised leg - one swollen - and then back up to his face.

"Tell me your name." The voice is Robert Weber's.

The young man's mouth twists in a snarl that fades as quickly as it came and he looks away, to the side of the tub marked with deep soap scum. When Robert's house is searched, there are scratches in the tub as though someone had clawed that deeply into the sides in an attempt to escape. "It's..." The young man inhales, winces at the pain. "It's twe-... Twenty-One. M-My name is... Twenty-One."

"Good. And-... what did we practice saying next?"

The man's jaw trembles visibly onscreen. Then he says, flat and numb, "My name is Twenty-One and I have... two weeks to l-live."

"Perfect. Now I promised you a good scrubbing if you played along downstairs-" The young man flinches, closing his good eye and curling up in the tub as best he can. "-and I will keep that promise." There's a pause, jostling as the camera is slotted into a tripod to continue filming. Then, Robert's voice is suddenly deafening. "Dog! Get the fuck in here!"

The door opens with the creak of hinges deeply in need of oiling, and then the Boxie moves into view. He's skinny, malnourished and underfed, and his hair is roughly cut short in uneven hunks. He has bald spots worn in by the muzzle that is buckled over his mouth, making his breathing an audible rasp. He glares with unhidden hatred.

"Give Twenty-One a bath," Robert says, and his hand moves into view as he pats the Boxie on the head. The Boxie flinches but then forces himself to hold still, closing his eyes as the pat turns into prolonged petting. His muzzle is unbuckled and then removed. Robert's fingers drift over his bald spots, play along the red marks pressed into his skin by the muzzle, move over a scar cut into one side of his mouth that wasn't there in the video with Nanda.

The Boxie is naked but for an old dog collar around his neck.

Robert hums, disappears entirely from view. The door opens and closes again. The sound of a lock clicks.

The Boxie looks at the young man in the bathtub, who doesn't look up. "Fuck this shit," The Boxie mumbles, but he moves - dragging one of his legs a little, and there are ropes tied around his ankles that ensure he can do little more than shuffle - and finally kneels next to the tub. "Are you going to be a shit?"

The young man looks at him with surprise. "You... I've never heard you talk before," He whispers, looking fearfully to the side towards the door.

"You've never seen me without the fucking muzzle before, either," The pet replies. His voice is far rougher than the first video, suggesting long-term damage to his vocal chords. "I asked you something. Are you going to fight me and be a shit about this or no?"

The young man hesitates, then shakes his head. "I couldn't fight if I wanted to anymore," He says, like a man confessing a sin. "It all hurts too much. You know? I had a girlfriend-"

"Stop it." The pet cuts him off and leans over, picking up a stiff washcloth and soaking it in the water until it's soft enough to use again, running it over the young man's shoulders. For all the edge of meanness in his voice, the pet's touch is clearly gentle. "You're going to fucking die here, better if you don't talk about stuff that gets you fucked up first. Forget her."

The young man leans over to give easier access to his back. The soft whimpers he makes show that there must be some grievous injuries back there that the camera can't see. "I-I know I will. Die, I mean. Do I really have-... is it really two weeks?"

"Yeah." The pet takes a bar of soap and runs it over his own hands, rubbing them together to work up a lather. The soap found in Robert Weber's house after his death is Irish Spring and Dove - it is believed he used different soap for different captives according to his own odd whims. "He's put little heart shapes on a calendar he marks off. He'll hurt you a little worse every fucking day and then make you beg for him to end it."

The young man slowly nods, looking at his bound wrists. There's a soft sniff, but he seems too tired for tears. "There's no chance of getting away, is there."

It's not really a question.

The pet answers anyway.

"You're the twenty-first, and none of the others have. What do you think?"

"I-I can't do this."

"You have to." The pet gets a red Solo cup sitting on the side of the tub, fills it with water, and pours it down the young man's back. He hisses and cries out softly in pain. "He doesn't exactly ask your goddamn preferences."

"Help me escape," The young man pleads. "Help me get out of here."

"I'm fucking hobbled," the pet snaps. "He'll be on us both before we even made it out of the hallway. You think I'm fucking stupid? I'm the only one who might not die if I stay good. Come on, lean forward so I can wash your hair."

The young man moves to obey, hands disappearing beneath the filthy bathwater, and then he turns, looking over his shoulder. He and the pet share a long, silent moment. Then he leans over far enough to put his mouth nearly to the pet's ear and whispers something so low that the camera doesn't pick up the words.

The pet inhales sharply.

He looks at the door, and then back to the young man.

"Are you sure?" He asks, and the edge is totally gone from his voice, now.

The young man nods, slowly. "Please," he says, a little louder. "If I have to-... please. Not him. I-I know you'll get punished, but... please. God, please, just this one thing." His hands come back up to grip onto the pet's hand where it lays along the side of the tub.

The young man leans forwards, and his forehead gently rests against the pet's. They are silent for a long moment.

"Please, don't let him be the one to kill me," The young man says. "I know I'm g-going to die, but... let me take that a-... away from him. Please. God, I don't even know your name, but-... please."

The pet swallows, then nods, tipping his head back to press a kiss to the young man's forehead. "I don't have a name. What's your name? I'll remember it. Your real name."

The young man's throat bobs and he whispers into the pet's ear again.

He sits back up, leaning over until some of his long hair falls into the water. "I'm-... I'm ready."

The pet takes a deep, deep breath, moves up to kneeling with his thighs vertical, lays both hands on the back of the young man's head, and says, "I hope it's better, wherever you go."

Then he pushes the young man's head underneath the water.

[/END VIDEO]

According to my friend, there's more to that video as well, but obviously it's been cut to take out the end of the poor guy. Now, my friend swears up and down the pet is crying at the end of the video, that he can see tears, but I'm not sure.

That doesn't really line up with the pet killing people before this, you know?

But one thing it does prove is that the Boxie knows the name of one of the unidentified victims. If he could be found, we could give that man back his name and get his family the closure they deserve.

I know some of you argued with me last time that the Boxie is clearly a VICTIM and not a PERPETRATOR, and I definitely admit this second video maybe suggests you're on to something there.

But I still think we have a Boxie killer on our hands here - I just think maybe I was wrong about why he's killing them at all.

I guess we'll find out if he kills again.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary @burtlederp

​

[omgbrunettegirl]

Nothing feels better -Erling Haaland.

You remember the first time you saw him like it was yesterday, all smiles and flushed cheeks. 

Your friend asked you to come along to a party with her. The guy she liked would be there, and you figured she wanted moral support. The place was lively with loud music, people dancing, talking and drinking.

Walking through she found her guy. You smiled seeing how shy she got from being in his presence , you could tell she liked him a lot. He guided the two of you to a group of people, mostly men. A tall blonde quickly caught your attention.

You would be lying if you said you did not know who he was; everyone in Dortmund knew who Erling Haaland was. Conversation flowed smoothly, the group was nice and funny and the fact that you could steal glances at the handsome blonde was a plus. You were having a good time, after a few drinks the booze had kicked in, you felt relaxed and a little dizzy. 

"I'm going to get another drink, does anyone want something?." you announced as you got up, everyone took the opportunity to ask for one. 

"That'll take me a couple of trips." your friend laughed lightly at your comment.

"I'll help you." a certain blonde got up and stood in front of you with a soft smile which you returned. Both of you went to the kitchen to get what everyone requested.

You opened the fridge while he leaned against the countertop with his arms crossed.

"So...Are you from Dortmund?." he suddenly asked. Turning around to look at him and you answered. 

"No, I'm not, in fact I'm not even from Europe." He nodded and kept his eyes on the floor.

The gesture made you furrow your eyebrows, around his friends he was lively and outspoken but alone with you he got shy and silent.

"Where are you from?." it was your turn to ask while passing him bottles.

"From Norway" he said with a little smile.

"Do you like it here?." closing the fridge you leaned against it looking at him.

"Yes." such a short answer made you raise an eyebrow, figuring that maybe he didn't want to talk, you only gave him a nod. 

Separating from the refrigerator you started to walk but his voice stopped you.

"Sorry… that was awkward." he shook his head from side to side with a nervous smile and avoided your eyes.

"No worries." you said with a smile. "Have you been living here a long time?."  you placed the bottles in the aisle that was in the middle of the kitchen, then you hopped on it, leaving you in front of him. 

"Not really, roughly a year… how about you?."

"Roughly two years."

"You win then." he said with a smile and finally looking at your eyes, how pretty those eyes were.

"I didn't realize it was a competition." you chuckled a little and he did the same. When the laughs died down both of you were just looking at each other. You looked at him from his feet to his face

Locking eyes,he had a knowing smile on his face which made you bite your lip lightly, an action that didn't go unnoticed.

He was about to talk but got interrupted by an exasperated voice.

"Where have you guys been?." your friend entered the kitchen. The drinks.

"Sorry, we got distracted." Erling replied before you could say anything, avoiding your friend's look. The three of you walked back to where the group was ,the rest of the night going smoothly until it was time to go.

You were standing outside the apartament waiting for your friend who was talking with her date.

"Hi." turning around you were faced with a shy Erling.

"Hello." avoiding your eyes again he stays silent for a bit before asking 

"Do you have Instagram?.

You were unable to stop the smile that came to your face, seeing such a tall and seemingly strong man looking so nervous was quite the sight.

"Doesn't everyone these days?." the little teasing made him smile.

"Can I have yours?." after you nodded he passed you his phone. You two said goodbye to each other.

"What was that?." your friend asked with a smile.

"Nothing… I just gave him my Instagram"

"Right...then why are you smiling so big?" before she said that you didn't realize the huge grin plastered on your face, you dismissed rolling your eyes, she simply laughed and hooked your arms together.

You never thought someone could become so important in such a short amount of time. Since that night at the party the two of you talked almost everyday, first through social media and then exchanging numbers. You loved talking to him, and once he felt more comfortable things flowed so nicely. The first time he told you you looked pretty in one of your pictures you felt like a teenager fangirling over her crush.

You were pretty sure he felt just as nervous as you the first time the two of you went out, he wore a light blue hoodie that made him look adorable. He was a gentleman, opening doors for you and making sure you were comfortable. The little park you went to was beautiful and calm, low profile of course. You ate there and talked about everything and nothing,and something about him made you feel like you could say anything. 

"You look beautiful." he complimented you all of the sudden, and you could have sworn he blushed.

"So do you… I mean, you look handsome."

"Thank you." he laughed.

When the two of you returned to your house, you lingered at the entrance, not wanting to leave.

"I had fun." you said, which made him smile.

"Me too." he seemed to think before he raised his hand and moved a strand of your hair behind your ear. You looked at him and nodded, he slowly leaned in and kissed your cheek, you closed your eyes at the feeling of his soft lips and the smell of his cologne. Just as slowly he separated from you.

"I would like to repeat this." he told you with red cheeks and the softest of smiles.

"Me too… Good night."

"Good night."

He turned around and started to walk to his car. You leaned against the wall of the elevator touching your cheek with the cheesiest smile. Little did you know that Erling was touching his lips in his car with the same smile.

The first kiss. That memory would always make your heart pound. The two of you have been seeing each other a lot, truth to be told, but you didn't know if you were dating or not, the topic was never discussed. But in that moment you couldn't care less, you were chopping onions while Erling just watched because that boy couldn't cook to save his life.

"The fact that you can't cook is such a football player trait."

"Is that an insult, young lady?" he raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Young lady?, you are not that older than me Haaland, only a year" apparently he didn't like that because he furrowed his eyebrows and had a slight pout.

"Don't call me that…My name is Erling."

You laughed and nodded but that didn't seem enough for him, he stood behind you and turned you around by the waist.

"Do you promise to only call me Erling?." his hands on your waist and being trapped against his body were not letting you think clearly, looking up at him you nodded again.

"Tell me." he demanded. You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Yes… Erling." he finally smiled.

"Good." he kept looking at you but not saying anything.

"What?." you asked, a little nervous.

"I just like seeing you look up to me." he said smugly, you felt your face get a little hot.

"I have no choice." both of you laughed.

Suddenly something about the energy in the room changed, he slowly leaned in, unsure but wanting at the same time, his face only inches away from yours,he whispered.

"Can I kiss You?." instead of answering you closed the distance between the two of you but accidentally bumped noses, both of you giggled which calmed your nerves a little bit. He softly pressed his lips against yours,you closed your eyes enjoying the feeling. He took your hands and brought them to his neck and then returned them to your waist, then moved them to your back so that he caressed gently, your lips moved softly against his. The feeling of the kiss, the smell of his cologne and the distant sound of the cars on the street made the moment perfect. Moving your hands to the back of his neck ,you scratched the nape a little bit. He separated a little from your lips and murmured.

"Keep doing that, beautiful." you happily obliged and let yourself get lost in the feeling of such a perfect moment.

The cuddles. The two of you were in his apartment watching some Netflix series but you weren't really paying attention. Your head was on his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat mixed with the feeling of him caressing your hair was making you sleepy.

"You have to stop that… I'm going to fall asleep." his chest vibrated while he laughed. 

"That's okay."

"No it's not… I don't come here to sleep." you say while sitting up.

"What do you come for then?." he sits as well and brings you to his arms.

"For the great view of your balcony." you sarcastically reply.

"Very funny dear." he rolls his eyes and then drops a kiss to your forehead.

"Listen… training is going to start soon, I'm afraid we are not going to be seeing each other a lot." he said a little sad.

"Oh… that's okay, we can facetime, text, or call each other."

"It's not the same." he whined a bit.

"Don't act like a baby Haaland." you said before thinking.

"What did you just call me?." he asked.

"Oh please, you're still on that?." you laughed at his somewhat offended face.

"Yes." he said seriously.

"Alright… I'm sorry."you giggled.

"I'm sorry what?." he asked while grabbing your thighs and bringing you to his lap.

"Are you kidding?." you questioned while placing your hands on his chest. 

"Do I look like I'm kidding?." he crossed his arms. You rolled your eyes and leaned in.

"Don't get like that… Erling." you said against his lips, he smiled and caressed your hips.

"Good girl." was the last he said before connecting your lips.

[ashasmonsters]

The Skateboarder

Female reader x Female orc (Morn)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: brief alcohol, stupid memes

Words: 9k

Morn reached between the legs of some intertwined partygoers, retrieved a beer from the strategically placed cooler, then opened it on the strike plate of the living room door. Some of it foamed out and fell on the carpet with the bottle cap but she didn't seem to care. The owners of the sorority house didn't care either.

"...so yeah, she said I stank and got up and left." Morn finished her tale of an attempted one-night stand.

"She didn't even touch you yet?" You asked, leaning in close so she could hear you over the thumping music. As was usual for parties like these, you and Morn had carved out a corner where you could be ignored by everyone else and gossip.

"Well, yeah, but not below the belt. That's what pissed me off. She was all over me all night and as soon as I say I want her to go down on me, she insults me and leaves."

"I mean..." you grinned, unable to resist, "did you stink down there, though?"

Morn punched your shoulder and chuckled.

"Fuck off, it's not like roses and daffodils are the norm. You know, it's like I always say..." It was Morn's turn to grin mischievously.

"Don't fucking say it. I swear to God, Morn. I'm going to laugh really hard and everyone's going to look at me weird. " You pleaded. You knew what would come next; Morn's favorite turn of phrase that she managed to use more often than one would think.

"—like I always say, good pussy smells like the heat coming out of the PS4."

You were true to your word. As you caught your breath between peals of laughter, a few partygoers did in fact stare at you. Despite your prior protests, the stares didn't bother you that much. Here in Morn's gossip corner, all that mattered was whiling the time away until the other half of your group was ready to leave. Dera's whereabouts were unknown but Lash was visible in the corner of the room.

"Looks like Lash's plan is all coming together." You noted. Morn turned to look as well; she was aggressively making out with an Elf boy. He licked her tusks. You grimaced.

"Goddamn. When Lash wants something she gets it."

"She mentioned that guy... what, like, yesterday?" You asked. "From staring at him across the classroom to heavy petting in less than twenty-four hours. That's a new record."

"Makes me feel like I'm not even the same species," Morn complained, finally turning away from Lash's public display of affection. "I know Orc boldness is a stereotype but it's not one I'd mind living up to."

"That's not Orc boldness, that's Lash boldness," you chortled. "Don't be down on yourself for not having it. Besides, she's not looking for a one-night deal; if that Elf doesn't call her back tomorrow she's gonna have her week ruined."

"I guess that's true..." Morn sighed.

"Morn." You firmly squeezed her shoulder and stared at her. "I love Lash to death, but you've never called me at three in the morning crying over the end of a week-and-a-half-long relationship. It's okay to not be dating a new person all the time."

"Yeah, I know." She finished her beer and smiled a bit.

"Besides, if you were hunting down an object of desire every time we were at a party, I'd have no one to chill with. Morn's Gossip Corner is the only thing getting me out of the dorm on Friday nights."

"I'm glad to be of service." She dramatically saluted. "You're right, though. I guess it's just the party atmosphere that makes me forget sleeping around and dating have drawbacks."

"Definitely the party vibe getting to you," you affirmed. "Speaking of sleeping around, though... where's Dera?"

"If I had to guess, upstairs. Text her." Morn suggested.

You pulled out your phone and opened the group chat, aptly titled "THA HOOLIGANZ 👩‍💻👩‍✈️👩‍⚕️🕵️‍♀️" and sent a message:

You: dera where tf are u, its almost been an hour

Almost immediately the indicator that Dera was typing popped up, followed by her reply:

Dera: upstairs. firbolg football player. huge 🍆

"Oh, god." You gagged. Morn pulled out her phone in response to see the cause, then had a similar reaction. She started tapping away at her phone's keyboard.

Morn: damn, dera, chill. we just wanted to make sure you were ok.

The typing indicator preceded yet another reply from Dera.

Dera: lol ok mom

"She's got an attitude tonight, sheesh." Morn shook her head and put her phone away.

"I think tonight an early exit might be a good idea. Dera and Lash seem pretty occupied," you said. You couldn't find Lash or her Elven paramour in the room anymore.

"I think you're right. Text the group and tell 'em we're leaving."

You nodded and did so, receiving 👍 responses from both Dera and Lash after a short pause.

"Let's go." You got up from your place on the sunken-in couch and helped Morn up. The two of you navigated through the fire code-violating sorority house to the front door, where you met the cool night air and the odor of cigarettes. Morn's skateboard was next to yours, propped against the thick trunk of a long-dead tree.

"I don't wanna go back to the dorms yet. It's not that late," Morn said, checking her watch.

"Pizza?" You suggested.

"Pizza."

Before long you were both skating into the night. The entire university town was built into the side of a mountain with the greek life houses at the top, making it a breeze to fashionably exit parties like this one. There were a few drunken revelers to dodge on the way down, but once you cleared the sororities and fraternities it was smooth skating. The incandescent streetlights flew past as century-old houses gave way to newer corner stores and parks. Before long, you and Morn were skating through the thick of the city on a course set for Main Street.

The pleasant sound of plastic wheels on stamped concrete was soon married with the aroma of cheap, indulgent pizza. You wouldn't have needed any senses other than smell to know you arrived at your destination: "Get Stuffed," the type of place where a slice was a dollar and you could write on the walls. As was usual for the time when Friday became Saturday, it was packed with the university crowd; too packed to even sit inside.

You and Morn shimmied to the counter and ordered your usuals. Fortunately, Get Stuffed had nailed speedy service and it was only a few short moments before you were on your way out with greasy pizza on flimsy paper plates. You set your skateboards on the curb and sat on them, side-by-side.

"Thanks for fleeing with me," Morn said, folding her slice of pizza and tucking her loose black curls behind her ear.

"Anytime, Morn." You mimicked her pizza fold before noticing something about the beanie she wore. It was oddly familiar, so you delayed your first bite. "Hey, where's that beanie from?" Morn looked at you, chewing.

"This thing?" She tugged at the chunky burgundy yarn. "You should know."

"I should know?" You mused, finally chewing on your first bite of pizza. It was just as greasy and gratifying as you expected it to be. Then, as realization dawned on you, it almost fell out of your mouth. "You kept that thing for this long?!"

"Of course. It's a good beanie. It's lasted... what, since second grade?" She smirked. "It's one of the best birthday gifts I've gotten. Thanks, by the way."

"Thank you for holding onto it," you countered. "The memories... wow."

"That was the birthday party where we had a sleepover afterward. We played tag, and—"

"Oh, no," you moaned, remembering.

"...you ran so hard that you threw up." Morn giggled. Your cheeks still burned at the vivid memory. You almost forgot crocheting Morn's beanie, but you never forget throwing up at someone's birthday party.

"It's crazy we've been friends for so long." You gracefully changed the subject and started working on your pizza slice in earnest.

"It's not that crazy. You've always been there for me."

"I mean... I try..." you were hiding your blush, feeling warm as Morn readied to shower you with compliments.

"Like the time Chrissie Becker rejected my invitation to prom. You started crying when I started crying, and I hadn't even told you what happened yet." Morn giggled warmly. "Or when our families went camping together and you let me share your sleeping bag when I forgot mine."

"I couldn't just let you sleep on the ground!" you sheepishly defended yourself against the flattery.

"Even though you knew I kicked in my sleep." Morn looked up from her plate and smiled at you, her tusks glinting under the streetlights.

"You're more important to me than my shins," you said quietly.

"Hah!" Morn laughed heartily, bumping her skateboard into yours and wrapping an arm around you. "You're more important to me than my shins."

In Morn's embrace there on the sidewalk, you melted. She had such a way of effortlessly making you feel safe and loved. She had been there for you as well several times and was damn good at it. You enjoyed the feeling so much that you just sat there quietly until she got a little worried.

"Hey, did I tease you too much?" Her wry grin had been replaced with a slight frown and sympathetic brow.

"No, no..." you reassured her, savoring the dreamy feeling. "It's all good. I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad we're... friends," you stumbled a bit over the last word.

"Me too," she gave your shoulder a little squeeze.

You both finished your pizza in silence, enjoying each others' side and the ambiance of the city street. After a moment you both tossed the greasy plates into a trash can and skateboarded back to the dorms. The courtyard was where your paths diverged, and after bidding one another goodnight and farewell, you parted. You shared your bed that night with a familiar feeling. Embarrassment, shame, and maybe even guilt. All for the way your heart skipped a beat when she put an arm around you, or the unstoppable smile when she recounted her memories of you. You weren't super familiar with love, at least not in the way Lash and Dera were, but the way Morn made you feel in recent months was more than simple friendship. You agonized over the thought that she wouldn't return those feelings. It was a miracle you managed to sleep at all.

Saturday morning arrived, and with it, a text. You groggily pulled your phone into bed with you to read it after rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It was from THA HOOLIGANZ.

Dera: hey sorry about my sass last nite. i figured y'all left early and that's cool, i was kinda doing my own thing anyway

Lash: LOL sameeee. anyway, does anyone want to meet up for coffee or something? i’d rather be hungover around you guys than my parents 😭

You considered the offer; it would be nice to actually see Lash and Dera after missing them last night. Your moment on the curb with Morn still bothered you, and a distraction from that would be nice.

You: im down, where u wanna go

Dera: u know that cute little cafe on that corner? main street i think?? the one thats literally 100% pink???

Morn: you're thinking of tokidoki cafe! i'm down to go, that’s my spot!

You sighed. This outing wouldn't be very good for distracting you from Morn if Morn was seated across from you.

Dera: thats the one. lets gooooooo

Lash: yes. literally right now. start running

Morn: thanks, but I think I'll skate there. see y'all in a bit

You: same

The morning air was crisp and cool in the way spring mornings always were. It was a shame Lash and Dera were too busy downing aspirin and chugging water to truly enjoy it. Your skateboard served you well as a means of transport on mornings like this; you and your friends were the rare few students who didn't usually sleep in on Saturdays, so you enjoyed the empty sidewalks. The soft plastic wheels gripped the concrete well enough to accommodate any street corners.

The cafe was 100% pink, as promised. The sweet, pillowy smell of crepes mingled with the robust aroma of coffee and met you as you hopped off your skateboard. The tiny size of the place made it easy to tell you were the first to arrive. You ordered the latte-crepe combo that took up the most space on the menu and sat while you waited. You were idly scrolling through your phone when you heard the rhythmic thumping of a skateboard wheels on slabs of sidewalk.

She looked painfully good as she stepped through the cafe's front door. The morning sun made her long black hair golden around the edges and she still wore that damn beanie. Her tusks poked out from her smiling lips when her eyes met yours. Illuminated by sunbeams, her well-toned arm showed every muscle and vein as she gripped her skateboard by the trucks to carry it in.

"Good morning!" she beamed at you. The employee behind the counter smiled at her knowingly.

"The usual, Morn?" he asked.

"Yep!" She quickly answered before sitting across from you, the pins on her denim jacket jingling. "You got here quickly."

"Yeah..." you answered weakly, your conversational skills still recovering from the way Morn held you last night.

"You weren't drinking last night, were you? You alright?" Of course, Morn immediately picked up that something was the matter. It would be stranger if she didn't.

"I'm fine. Where are Lash and Dera?" You deflected. As if on cue, your phone buzzed. THA HOOLIGANZ chimed in.

Lash: lol srry, throwing up. cant make it

Dera: yeah same.

"Unbelievable. Those girls can't seem to show up anywhere lately." Morn had a slightly disapproving tone. She tapped away on her phone.

Morn: this is going on your attendance sheet

Lash: see u in detention, dera

Dera: enjoy your crepes you two!

You chuckled at the exchange.

"That's more like it. I like when you smile." Morn chimed in. "Do more of that."

The waiter saved you from needing to respond by stopping at your table with your orders. A steaming, folded crepe landed before you covered in a sauce just as pink as the rest of the cafe. A warm latte arrived with it and you wrapped your hands around the warm mug. It soothed you a little.

"Morn..." you began, not quite sure what you were going to say. Was this it? Were you going to lay your feelings on the table right here, right now?

"What is it? You can tell me anything." Morn leaned in over the table. "I can tell something's been bothering you lately."

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You didn't even know how to begin; should you preface it with an apology? Some sort of explanation or disclaimer?

"I don't even know if I can tell you. Like, if I can get the words out," you said before sipping your latte. You savored the taste, hoping the espresso would ground you somehow. At the very least you wouldn't be expected to talk with your mouth full.

"There's no rush. I just... I want to help. I've known you long enough that I'm sure there's something I can do." Morn hadn't even touched her crepe yet.

"Let's just, um, eat." You answered.

"Good idea. I'm sure you'll feel like yourself once you've eaten and the coffee starts kicking in." Morn nodded to herself, cutting open her fruit-filled crepe. You similarly started to work on yours. The two of you ate in silence and, for a moment, you did feel better. Fully focusing on the aromas, flavors, and textures of your breakfast stilled your trembling hands. The slightest bit of confidence grew within you halfway through the meal.

"I... um..." the words slowly formed in your mouth. Morn paused, setting down her fork and knife and looking at you intently. "I fell in love. With someone I don't think I should be in love with."

Morn listened but said nothing. She was thinking.

"How do you know it's love?"

"What?" you asked.

"How do you know it's not just a crush? Or, you know, lust?" Morn inquired. You considered the question carefully. Memories of platonic cuddles, impromptu sleepovers, and late-night conversations with Morn came to mind.

"It's love because it's lasted way longer than any crush. I trust this person, and they trust me. I'm not like Lash, pining for the new guy from across the classroom; I know this person really well."

"I see." She paused again. "Why would it be bad to love them? Wouldn't a good history make a romantic relationship easier?"

"Only if they felt the same way..." you sighed and nestled your head in your elbows.

"Ah, right..." Morn looked sheepish. "Well, personally—and I do mean personally, so it might not apply to them—if I had a long-time friend that I had feelings for, I would just tell them."

"Really?" Your eyes widened.

"I mean, yeah. If I and this person had such a long history of trust, then I would trust them to still be friends with me afterward if they didn't feel the same way. I'm sure it would be awkward for a while, but I really don't think it would be, you know... destructive or anything."

More memories came to you. More times where you felt completely open and vulnerable with Morn, and when she did with you. Times when you comforted each other and shared secrets under blanket forts and playground swings and gymnasium bleachers. Words formed inside your mouth, desperate to make themselves known to the world. Perhaps now would become another one of these memories. You'd look back on it in the future and remember the smell of pink crepes in the pink cafe.

"Morn... I have these feelings for you. I'm talking about you."

You fought the urge to cover your mouth, and you didn't stutter or stammer in the slightest. Though working up the courage was difficult, letting the words go was one of the easiest things you had ever done. Morn didn't react much; an eyebrow rose slowly as she finished chewing. The silence was agonizing.

"I'm happy you trust me enough to share that with me," Morn said calmly. You wanted to shout that's all?! but held your tongue. She took a sip of her latte, clearly in no rush to say more.

"So..." you began, well and truly lost. All your effort had gone into mustering courage and now you had nothing left. Even your anxiety and worry had gone, and you were strangely content, though eager, to hear Morn speak.

"So..." Morn parroted, "does that mean you want to... you know, date me? Like, romantic dates, not besties dates. Kissing dates."

Again, your impulses screamed duh!

"Um, yeah..." you said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. "I'd like that, but... only if you'd like that too."

She sipped her latte again, still calm.

"You know, over the years, I've imagined what we would be like if we were romantic with each other. Like, girlfriend-girlfriends. How could I not? We've known each other for so long."

You nodded, bidding her speak more.

"I never knew you wanted that. I can't imagine how you felt; I could tell something was wrong but I couldn't figure out what." Morn set the mug and her cutlery down, intentionally and warmly looking you in the eye. "I think...

You didn't even breathe.

"I think we should give it a shot." Morn smiled widely. "Does that sound good to you?"

"Yes, yes it does," you finally drew breath. If Morn was feeling a similar tumult of emotions that you were, she was hiding it considerably well. Morn wiped her lips and tusks with a napkin and got up from the table.

"Well, I've got to visit mom and pops tonight, but we've still got Sunday tomorrow. How about we have our first real date then?"

"Uh, sure!" You sat there, dumbfounded. Was it really going to be this easy?

"Cool. I'll let you pick where we go, just like most of our... non-date hangouts," she said, turning to the cashier. She gestured widely to the table. "Put it all on my tab."

"You have a crepe tab?"

Morn chuckled. Making her way to the door, the sunlight caught her hair and skin deliciously.

"I'm a regular. Anyway," she grabbed her skateboard, "see you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow." You answered. She gave you one last toothy grin and stepped out before gliding out of sight, disappearing past the edge of the window. You rested your chin in your hands and sighed like a lovestruck teenager in a coming-of-age movie. Before long, your window-gazing session was interrupted by an employee.

"All done, ma'am?" he asked politely.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, I was spacing out."

"No, it's all good. Thanks for coming by, and if you don't mind me saying..." he looked somewhat pensive.

"What?"

"Don't tell Morn I said this since she's proven that she could snap me in half like a twig, but... speaking as the crepe guy she visits several times a week, I think she's a good match for you."

"But you've never met me before. Maybe once or twice, but—"

"She's told me all about you. All good things, don't worry. It's less about you and more about how Morn talks about you. She gushes when she mentions you, seriously." He paused awkwardly then started to clean up the table. "I've said too much."

"No, thank you," you said. "It's good to know."

"Glad I could help. Anyway... um, thanks for coming in." He waved at you as you got up and left. You nodded and made your exit.

Back at your dorm, you couldn't decide if you wanted to pace or lay in bed and kick your legs. You had so much energy inside you, trapped. It was equally nervous and thrilling. You wondered how Morn kept herself so well composed; something in the back of your mind nagged at you, wondering if it was because she didn't really feel that strongly for you. Enough, you thought to yourself. Morn was your best friend for almost as long as you could remember. She wouldn't toy with you like that. Hell, she explained her entire thought process on the topic before you even confessed to her.

You decided to pace to distract yourself. Those thoughts weren't helpful. Right now you had to choose a place for your first officially non-platonic date. It was never this hard to pick a place to hang out with Morn before...

Then, an idea. It sprung into your mind out of nowhere, and it just felt right. You made sure that the place was open on Sunday, checked the ticket prices... it was perfect. You readied your phone to text Morn the details... but Lash had already sent you a private message. You opened the notification.

Lash: yo how did crepes go?? sorry i no-showed

Your brow furrowed a bit. Lash's random interest was a bit strange, even more so since she was hungover. A dehydrated, vomiting Lash was bedridden for a good half-day in your experience.

You: the cafe was cool! the crepes were good

Unsure if you should be forthcoming about your new development with Morn, you figured they could find out tomorrow once your first "real date" was underway. A change like that would likely be a big deal in your friend group, so a text message wouldn't do the announcement justice anyway.

Lash: how's Morn?

You: shes fine? did something happen??

Lash: no lol, just wondering lol

Two "lol" in one text? You wanted to indulge your suspicions and investigate further, but you decided to leave it at that. You had a date to arrange.

You: still at your parents' place?

Morn: yeah, I'll be back in town tomorrow though

You: k, cool. does meeting at the aviary at 2pm work?

Morn: yeah definitely! what made you pick the aviary?

You: idk if you remember, it was so long ago, but it was the first school field trip we went on as friends

There was a pause as Morn's typing bubble hovered on your screen.

Morn: 😭OMG YOURE SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY😭

Morn: i cant wait to see you tomorrow!!!

You: me too 💕

Your phone landed on your bed with a thump and that nervous energy returned with a vengeance. More pacing, more leg-kicking, even some giggles. This situation felt both extremely real and like a scene from a movie; you never imagined this sort of thing happened in real life, especially in yours. Against all previous expectations, things were going fine. It was thrilling, scary, and made your heart race, but it was going fine. The homework you had to do took a back seat to your excited daydreaming and scheming about tomorrow. You thought about how you would greet her, how you would hug, if and how you would go for a kiss, walking while holding her hand... predictably, sleeping that night was incredibly difficult.

In the morning, you finally executed the plans you fantasized about prior. You decided to err on the side of being overdressed, picking an outfit that wasn't formal but still a little more special than what you would usually wear. You showered, brushed your teeth, swished some mouthwash, and even flossed! Breath mints, a small assortment of Morn's favorite snacks, and an extra water bottle found their way into your bag. If you were going to overthink, then you would take advantage and be overprepared as well. Squeaky clean, dressed to impress, and with a heftier bag than usual, you skateboarded down to the aviary intent on arriving ten minutes early.

The journey was uneventful save for your steadily increasing heart rate. By the time you were waiting for her by the entrance gate, you were fully flustered. You stood still with a kind smile on your face, but anything more complex would have been asking too much of you. The mental rehearsal in your mind's eye ran over and over again: smile, say hi, hug. Smile, say hi, hug. These were all things you had done with Morn before, but with platonic intent instead of this newfound "why not?" intimacy. With how calm and composed Morn had appeared throughout this whole process, you felt as if you were at a disadvantage somehow. You worried in a juvenile sort of way that she was too cool for you.

The way she pulled up to the aviary in her car didn't help that worry at all. Her ride, an old, angular, black thing that roared like a beast, was her pride and joy. She had practically built the thing herself with the number of parts she swapped out of it. It was fully manual and she had the skills to maneuver it gracefully into the parking space. Out from it stepped your actual, honest-to-god, bonafide date.

She smiled at you and your brain melted. You held up a hand in a sort of mellow wave, offering a faint grin. By the time she closed the distance, your simple three-step plan was gone with the wind. Luckily she also decided that greeting with a hug was the correct choice and you were in her embrace quickly. You paused before realizing you should probably return the gesture and wrap your arms around her as well.

"It's so good to see you! You look great," she said, pulling away and looking you over.

"You too..." you breathed, taking your own chance to get a proper look. Her outfit was just as sleek and dark as her car: a pair of black jeans with accompanying boots, a matching leather jacket, and of course, that classic burgundy beanie to top it off.

"Shall we?" She extended a green, competent hand to you. She wasn't wearing her driving gloves today, which was good for your composure; otherwise, you would have well and truly swooned. You accepted her grasp and she gave your hand a firm squeeze before strolling with you to the ticket booth. Thanks to your student IDs, you got in with discounted admission.

The aviary itself was fairly large, and on this particular Sunday, you and Morn practically had the place to yourselves. Other than the idle chatter of a few other scattered visitors, there was only the sound of wind in the leaves and bird calls. The two of you meandered between the exhibits, chatting but not about much in particular. Instead, you were simply content to enjoy each other's company and look at the birds. The birds liked looking at you, too; at one point a pair of free-roaming peacocks followed you and Morn around the aviary.

"Looks like it's a double date," Morn quipped, gesturing to the two plumy birds. They were both mostly brown and lacking the massive, fan-shaped tails.

"They're a pair of girls too. Male peacocks are the ones with the crazy feathers," you noted.

"It's almost like having Lash and Dera tagging along." Morn chuckled. "In fact, if they keep failing to show up these birds would make good replacements."

You looked at the two peacocks, who had started preening each other's feathers.

"Do you think they're besties or girlfriends?" You playfully asked. "That's some pretty intense preening."

"Maybe they're both, like us." Morn wrapped an arm around you and offered you her shoulder. You melted again. "If you had feathers, I'd be preening you right now."

"If I knew how to return that compliment, I would." You said, deliciously rattled by her closeness and warmth.

"I have an idea... if you're cool with it." Morn kept holding you close, turning to make eye contact with you. You faced her and realized how close you were. Trapped in her gaze, you couldn't speak. You gave a faint nod.

The first thing you felt was her tusks on your cheeks. They met the corners of your mouth, pressing gently just before her lips met yours. In reality, the kiss was a quick peck. In your mind, time froze. You could no longer hear the birds calling or wind blowing, only the sound of your heart beating like a drum and a feeling like fire in your chest. Morn pulled away from the kiss with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry if my tusks poked you. I'm still getting the hang of that."

"Hey, practice makes perfect, right?" you let slip with a suaveness that surprised even you. Morn's eyes widened in surprise before she let out a hearty laugh.

"That's the spirit!" She cheered, squeezing you hard. "I'm gonna hold you to it, so be aware: I'm gonna kiss you a bunch more before we're out of here."

"That's fine by me." You couldn't do anything else but giggle. Morn gave you another peck immediately after, angling her head a bit so her tusks didn't have such a lead on her lips. Your first kiss with Morn was perfect as far as you were concerned, but this second one was a bit more graceful.

"Better?" she asked.

"Better."

Your stroll through the aviary continued in this fashion: chatting about this and that, generally gushing about each other and punctuated by more quick kisses. It was strange to have a first date with someone that you knew so well, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. Each kiss felt natural and fun, not nerve-wracking and awkward as in the dates of your past. Before all this, you scoffed at yourself for wishing that there was a switch you could toggle to go from best friends to girlfriends, but so far it seemed to work precisely like that.

To the sound of your giggling, the sun was poised to set soon. The aviary closed early because it was Sunday, and you found yourself with Morn leaning against the gleaming hood of her car. You saw your reflection in it, the two of you framed by the orange sky. She came to your side, attaching to you like a magnet.

"It's probably time we headed home, huh?" she suggested.

"Yeah, probably," you replied reluctantly. "I almost don't want it to end."

"It doesn't have to." Morn smiled. "Did you really think I'd kiss you goodnight and leave you on the curb?"

You giggled. That would certainly be the plan for a first date with a stranger, but this was Morn.

"You could come by and hang out with me in my dorm for a bit?" she asked.

"I'd love to." You answered. Her dorm building and yours were right next to each other, after all. She stood up from the hood of her car and opened the passenger side door, offering the seat to you. Not long after stowing your skateboard in the trunk, you were cruising through the city streets bound for the university. Morn's focus made the ride a smooth one, her hands expertly gripping the steering wheel and gear shifter. She wore a focused but pleased expression as she deftly maneuvered the growling vehicle.

"Oh!" Her concentration broke. "We should get food! We haven't eaten at all."

Tires squealed as she veered right, making a turn she wasn't expecting to make. You gripped your armrest and giggled. The engine roared and, within moments, delivered you to a drive-through whose location Morn seemed to know by heart. She was so familiar with it that she blew past the lit-up menu and instead went directly to order.

"Don't worry, I'll get you something you'll like." She reassured you before making it out of the drive-through, takeout bag in hand, in record time. The bag landed in your lap and delicious smells wafted from it. You were tempted to peek inside and sample its contents, but even while entranced with Morn's driving skills you knew eating in her car was a no-no. Untoasted Pop-Tarts during a late-night study session on her bed were okay but her car was like a temple. You folded the top of the bag to make it easier to resist the temptation.

After she had parked and gotten out of the car, you followed her with takeout bag in one hand and skateboard in the other. This late on a Sunday night, the sky was a deep navy. Stark white light from the lamp posts illuminated the web of pathways that connected the dorms, parking lots, student union, and myriad other places you'd typically skateboard solo to.

A few beeping locks later, you made it to Morn's dorm room. Like yours, it was spartan and tiny, but it belonged to her and her alone. You set the bag down on the solitary table and determined to chow down, but Morn caught your attention. She sat on the twin-sized bed that you had shared with her many times before; platonically, of course. She had an expression that you couldn't quite decipher.

"You okay?" You asked, not sure where to begin.

"I'm great, actually," she said, brushing her hair out of the way so she could look at you. "Sorry if I overdid it with the kisses earlier—"

"You didn't," you interjected.

"I just... It felt great to kiss you. I don't know if it's just my nerves, or the newness of it all, or something else, but... I'm kicking myself for not making the first move on you sooner." She looked away, blushing a forest green on her cheeks. You sat next to her on the bed before she could say anything more.

"Hey, don't feel bad just because I was moping for a bit. The fact I was so worried is proof that you can't really know how someone feels about you until you ask. Even if you were friends since forever ago." You reversed the usual arrangement by wrapping your arm around her. She chuckled softly.

"I can't believe I was stressing myself out over random sorority chicks at parties rejecting me. Being with you just feels so much better than the dating apps and the parties and shit like that," Morn sighed. "I know it's technically only our first date but I really think we're something special."

"We are special," you held her tighter, "we went on our first date after... what, a decade and a half of knowing each other? That kind of history sure beats cheesy Tinder pick-up lines."

"Sure does," Morn punctuated her sentence with a kiss. Instead of giving you a quick peck, she pressed her lips into yours even harder. Within the privacy of her dorm room, your heart fluttered at the notion of Morn being able to do whatever she wanted to you. You felt the beginnings of her tongue at your lips, then she pulled away and took a deep breath. Her face was inches from yours as you caught your breath.

"I really like kissing you," Morn uttered. "Now that we're alone... are you okay if I really kiss you?"

"Really kiss me?" you teased. She got even closer.

"Please?" She played along with her best begging tone.

"Go ham." She kissed you again, giggling at your choice of words with her lips pressed against yours once more. She immediately cradled your head in her strong hands, gently placing you into a reclining position. There wasn't much room, but she managed to fit alongside you in the twin-sized bed all without breaking the kiss. You opened your eyes after pulling away to breathe, and all you could see were her dandelion-colored irises.

"I'm gonna go again," She said, smiling. "I just had to get a good look at you first."

"You can do whatever you want, Morn." You grabbed her arm and placed her hand on you. "Just don't keep me waiting."

Morn kissed you hard for the third time, the hand you held now caressing your body ravenously. As her tongue gently played at your lips, her hand found its way to your chest and played with your breasts. She hardly gave you time to gasp, coming back to your mouth with fervor. Her tongue met yours in earnest now, both of you closing the space on the bed between you. Her body flush with yours, you could feel every muscle as she held you close.

You felt one of her legs settle in between your thighs, and you whined into her mouth as she teasingly rubbed you against it. Even fully clothed the sensation was electric, no doubt due to the person giving it to you. Many nights alone had involved fantasies just like this. Now they were coming true.

Desperately, you began grinding yourself against her leg. You chased the sensation as far as you could, moaning into Morn's kiss. Just as you felt yourself approaching the edge, she removed herself from you. Her leg pulled away and the kiss stopped. You opened your eyes, bewildered. Morn had gotten off the bed and kneeled just next to it, her eyes level with your aching need. She grabbed the waistband of your bottoms before looking you in the eyes again.

"You said you didn't want me to keep you waiting," she grinned, tusks glistening. "This okay?"

"It's more than okay... stop teasing me!" You whined. She nodded, pulling your bottoms off entirely before hovering in between your legs. You could feel her breathe on you through your underwear. God, she was so close; you twitched with each puff of warm breath. Her tusks brushed against the inside of your thighs. With a tentative finger she eased your underwear out of the way, gently planting kisses all around your bare mound. She held your legs in place as they twitched and reacted to her electric touch. She deliberately avoided your tender nub with her warm lips. She was playing with you.

"Morn, please," you begged. She paused to look up at you and give a toothy grin.

"You're so cute when you're frustrated," she teased, quickly going back for more. She felt unimaginably warm against your already hot entrance. It wasn't unlike all those other times you melted at Morn's touch, only now it was so intense you couldn't help but let out gasps and squeaks. She held nothing back this time. Hungrily, she lapped at your slit, each lick finishing with a flourish on your sensitive little nub. You mewled in time with her curling tongue.

"Oh! That's— ah! So good!" You moaned, your back beginning to arch as you squirmed around on the mattress.

"You flatter me," Morn uttered between licks, looking proud. You saw something in her eye before she let go of one of your thighs and brought her hand to your entrance. Her tongue didn't let up at all as she slowly introduced one of her substantial fingers. It fit comfortably inside you at first, but you gasped hard when it started moving. Morn added another soon after, stretching you deliciously.

"I'm gonna come if you keep that up," you panted, your face burning red and lungs desperate for air.

"My pleasure," Morn said before redoubling her efforts. Her fingers curled inside you, making a "come hither" motion that made your hips rock. By this point, Morn's tongue had trouble staying on you as you writhed. You gasped with every finger curl, well and truly lost in the heat of the moment.

"Ah! Morn!" You cried, rocking yourself against her fingers desperate for more. She gave up on trying to lick your nub, instead palming one of your breasts with her other hand and pinning you to the bed. With the new leverage, she worked your insides with her fingers, pumping them in and out of you with her muscular arm. You could see sweat beading on her taut green skin.

"Come for me. I wanna see you come," Morn urged. You could do little else but cry out and oblige her. Your body spasmed hard as you cried out gibberish interspersed with her lovely name. Her fingers didn't stop rubbing against your inner walls, leaving you breathless and faint and tightly wound around her. The coiling pleasure within you finally snapped. Your back arched, completely leaving the bed as Morn pressed her lips into yours. She kissed you hungrily as you wailed into her mouth. There was nothing in your mind but the feeling of her fingers coaxing you through the height of your bliss and holding you there for as long as possible. When the pleasure finally started to subside and your breath returned to you, Morn finally withdrew her fingers and lips and wiped her forehead. She smiled at you wordlessly.

"I love you, Morn," you said, panting. There was nothing else to say, nothing else on your mind. If you had given yourself that sort of bliss on a lonely night, you would be drowsy and lethargic. Instead, with Morn turning her love for you into pleasure that made you cry out and curl, you had never felt more alive. She gave you a moment to catch your breath. Leaving your lips unkissed, she sat by your side and stroked your hair.

"I love you too," she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. "Are you tired?"

You shook your head enthusiastically. Sure, you would likely be sore in a few hours, but you wouldn't dream of denying Morn more of you.

"Good, because I wanna get off too." She chuckled and pecked your lips. Undressing herself completely, she helped you out of what clothes remained until you were both completely bare. You were completely flush against her on the bed once more, your skin perfectly complimenting her green form. Her body was toned and full, muscled yet smooth. Even after all you had just been through, the sight of her still made your heart skip.

"I've always wanted to try this. Spread your legs," she commanded, gently grasping your ankles. You complied and she lifted one of your legs aloft just in front of her as if about to hug it. Still holding your leg pointed toward the ceiling, she straddled your dripping warmth with her own. She eased herself onto you and those lovely electric feelings returned. She moaned for the first time, her pleasured sounds like music to your ears.

The position was a little awkward and bent your back in a strange way, but the feeling of her slick sex pressed against yours was delicious.

"I'm gonna start moving," Morn said. She initiated a gentle rocking motion that made you both gasp. The friction between the two of you felt gorgeous and you soon found yourself reciprocating with your hips. Interlocked and sharing the same squeaks and mewls, you wanted desperately to kiss her but couldn't. You had to lay there at her mercy as Morn clung to your leg and ground herself into you. She doubled up on her pace.

"Oh, shit," Morn groaned, both with pleasure and with effort. She had the same expression as when she was driving; when her head wasn't thrown back with a sigh, she was looking at you with love but also intent. Her grinding made you moan and her glare made you shiver delightfully. You had never felt anything like this before, nor had you even fantasized about Morn pressed up against you like this.

"This feels amazing... ah! Morn..." you sighed between yelps when the friction between you peaked.

"I—I..." Morn gasped, her entire face contorted and flushed. She had brought you to your peak once already, and now you wanted nothing more than to see her reach her own ecstasy.

"Please, Morn, come," you pleaded, mirroring her own urgency when she had brought you to orgasm earlier.

"No, I... Shit, I've got a cramp." She sighed, this time tinged with disappointment as she stopped her grinding. "Ouch." She gently disentangled herself from you, rubbing her thigh. The realization that her creased brow had come from pain and not pleasure embarrassed you a bit, an emotion that Morn echoed.

"Hey, it's okay." You sat up and held her shoulder. Her eyes were downcast as she massaged the cramp out of her muscled thigh. "Just so you know, I'm having a great time."

"You were having a great time." She winced as she shifted her kneeling weight on the bed. "Serves me right for thinking I could fuck like a pornstar on the first date, huh?"

"I already came once, Morn," you reminded her. Sitting alongside her, equally naked and sweaty, there was a clarity in the air that made it effortless to speak your mind. You felt bold, yet comfortable. You felt like you wanted more of Morn's body. "Let me take care of you. I think I can make this work."

"Take the lead, babe," Morn relented. The way she said babe made you giddy inside, but you were focused on her now. "Just mind the leg, it still freakin' hurts."

"Morn, when I say I'm gonna take care of you, I mean it. Just lie down," you said, easing her onto her back. With the positions reversed, you had a moment to look her up and down. Laid bare before you and anticipating your next move, the sight of her awoke something within you. Something that told you not to hold back.

You practically pounced atop her, squarely laying yourself on her body. She met you with a kiss that you eagerly returned. You channeled all your built-up desire to please her into that kiss, at the same time aligning your mound with hers. It took a few tries, but eventually, you found the angle where your clit could meet hers without requiring pornstar-style flexibility. Pleasure jolted through both of you and she broke the kiss to gasp.

"Told you I could make it work," you grinned, focusing now on the movement of your hips. You started slowly at first as to not tire yourself out but quickly increased the pace as the coiling warmth inside you grew. Instead of kissing her, you buried your face in her shoulder so you could hear her sing. With every roll of your hips she moaned, louder and louder as you humped her harder and harder.

"Oh, god, babe," Morn panted. You could feel her frenzied breath on your neck as she cried out. You could feel your own orgasm building but all you cared about was her.

"Tell me how you feel," you commanded, maintaining your hips' pace. "I want you to come so bad."

"Keep going," Morn grunted. "I'm close, I'm so fucking close!"

You furthered your efforts, grinding your desperate nub into hers with vigor. You panted as you began to feel tingles in your extremities and your breath became impossibly tight. Morn matched your desperation, her hips weakly pushing upwards so that her mound would meet yours sooner. Just a little more! More! You shouted to yourself mentally as Morn's hands squeezed your waist to signal her impending orgasm.

You frantically let go of her body with one hand, giving up precious leverage in order to make sure Morn couldn't escape the pleasure you were giving her. There was nothing you wanted more than to reach the peak together. You gently caught her pearl between your fingers and rolled it as you ground into her, drawing out deep moans from her. She spasmed in your grasp, gasping in time with your own pleased sighs.

"Oh god!" She cried out, throwing her head back into the piled-up blankets. Her whole body tensed and you could feel each of her rippling muscles press against you in a desperate bid to ride out her orgasm. You followed soon after, the air forced from your lungs as an explosion of tingling warmth knocked the wind out of you. All you could do was cry out with her and press your nub into hers where your hand was still at work. You rubbed and rolled, trying your best to prolong the mutual climax before finally catching your breath and collapsing into Morn's tired embrace.

With your body limp and your face buried in her neck, you could feel her breasts rise and fall with each breath. You held each other loosely for a moment, just listening to her breathe. After only a few heartbeats, she started giggling.

"What's so funny?" you asked, lifting your heavy head to look at her.

"Nothing," she stifled her giggles, a tear rolling down her cheek. "That was just really, really good."

"Are you crying?" You asked, concerned but secretly proud of your handiwork.

"No, I'm not crying. I'm tearing up, there's a difference," she chuckled. "Thank you."

"Thank you. You're the one that started it," you cooed, stroking her hair. "plus, you ate me out first so I think I owe you."

"It's on the house," Morn sighed contently. "But you're still on me... could you roll over, please?"

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly shifted your weight off of her and onto the mattress.

"Don't worry about it, I just figured the bed was softer than me." She chuckled again.

You said nothing, instead opting to resume your embrace with her from the side. She reciprocated, rolling over so she could be the big spoon. She wrapped her arms around you snugly.

"Ah, shit," Morn cursed under her breath.

"What? What's wrong?" You craned your neck a bit to see her golden eyes in your periphery.

"Our food is definitely cold by now," she grumbled, "and I don't have a microwave."

“I’ve got snacks in my bag.” You replied.

Morn readied a compliment, but delayed when both your phones buzzed. THA HOOLIGANZ had something to say.

“What is it now?” Morn rolled over and grabbed her phone, reading the messages as they rolled in. You did the same.

“What the…?”

Lash: did you two kiss yet???

Dera: they did more than that 😳😳😳

Morn shot you a look of disbelief before tapping away frantically.

Morn: wtf are you guys talking about?

You: ^

Lash: the crepe date! u two are dating now right?

You: what do u mean crepe date? the breakfast u failed to show up to u mean??

Lash: lol, relax. we just thought you two needed some time alone. for the record, i was actually hung over. me and dera just agreed you two needed to talk it out

Dera: seriously, u look at Morn the way she looks at crepes, and she looks at u the way Lash looks at literally anyone

Lash: or the way u look at dudes bulges

Dera: shut up

“I…” Morn began, jaw agape. “I don’t know if I should be mad or amazed. I’m both.”

“They set us up like lonely freshmen.” You shook your head, chuckling.

Lash: u two are dating now right???

Morn: yes dumbass

You: can confirm

Lash: CUTEEEEE

Dera: morn fucks on the first date. respect.

You: wait how- what?

Dera: ur in Morn’s dorm right

Your texting was interrupted by three solid thumps coming through the wall.

Dera: i’m right next door and these dorms are made of fucking paper

Morn: hey, i’ve dealt with hearing every single time you slept with some guy. fair is fair

Dera: no judgment from me!

Lash: suddenly i’m glad i still live with my parents…

You put your phone down as you really didn’t have much to say. Morn gave up on it as well, your phones resting together on the floor. She resumed spooning you and a moment later, you felt her chest start to heave with laughter; a hearty laugh loud enough for Dera to hear through the walls. You joined her, laughing until your diaphragm ached. The whole situation, the realization that Dera and Lash knew before either of you did and that they had a master plan… utterly ridiculous. It was like something out of a movie, yet with your arms wrapped around one of Morn’s, completely real. You feared this was all a dream, and as soon as you succumbed to sleep in Morn’s cozy twin bed, it would dissolve.

Morn could tell sleep started to take you.

“I love you,” she whispered into your ear. She squeezed you tight. You had never been more sure of anything in your life that Morn would still be cuddling you when you woke up.

[kuroosmikasavolleyball]

Can you write headcanons for Tanka, Osamu, Kuroo, Oikawa and Akaashi when an opponent crap talks their girlfriend during a game to try to negatively effect their game?

ooh this is interesting🤩

Haikyuu boys and how they react when an opponent trash talks their s/o

includes: tanaka, osamu, kuroo, oikawa, akaashi

warnings: none

a/n: I’m so sorry this took long! I just got 3 more requests and I’m trying to post quickly so the wait isn’t too long. thanks for being patient<3

main masterlist: (•ө•)♡

TANAKA

“Can you tell your girlfriend to shut up? Her cheering is embarrassing.” Tanaka never whipped around his head quicker. The match in between the official games had gathered quite an audience and Tanaka’s girlfriend was one of them. She was leading the cheer sequence with Saeko, so why was the player only targeting his girlfriend? “Oy, do you have a problem with it? If you actually had a girlfriend, you would be proud.” She’s just cheering, what’s his problem? “I do actually, but she’s sitting quietly and clapping like a regular person.” He scoffs and walks away. “Oh no you don’t-“ Tanaka charges forward as to teach him a lesson when a tangerine intervenes. “Tanaka-san! That cross shot earlier was so amazing! Just focus on the game..he’s trying to distract you, I think.” Tanaka snapped out of the rage zone. Oh right, he realizes, there’s a game. It doesn’t matter what other people think about my relationship as long as both of us are happy. He looks over at you, grinning as you cheer him on with no shame. He thinks he’s more proud of you than you are of him right now.

OSAMU

“Nice one ‘Samu!” Victory was almost guaranteed at this point, so the twins started taking some risks. After a time out from the other team, a player in the row closest to the net spoke. “You’re playing aggressive today, huh? What is it? Anger from problems with your precious little girlfriend?” It was painfully obvious to Osamu that he was just trying to trigger him. “No actually, I’m perfectly fine with (Y/N). Not that you would know, judging from the fact that you’re single.” The player looked offended, as if his plan to tag opponents along usually worked. “She looked a little down today..sure you didn’t take your anger out on her?” That got Osamu’s attention. “There’s no anger in me for her, only love. Stop this pathetic excuse of an insult.” He kept a monotone face as he turned around, his face subconsciously turning into a smile when he locked eyes with you in the stands.

KUROO

He took a swig from his water bottle and was ready to go back in the game from the time out when a player on the other bench approached him. “You know, I really think you should break up with your girlfriend. Your ex was so much better; this is a downgrade.” Kuroo raised his eyebrows at the straightforward statement. He let out a manic laugh and answered, “Unless you show me a love guru license, why should I listen to you? If you liked my ex so much, go ahead and date her.” The opponent rolled his eyes. “Just think about it..” The coach of his team had called him back in at this point. “I’m not going to waste time thinking about anything pointless; I’m really happy with (Y/N).” They both walked onto the court and the opponent scoffed. Kuroo then devoted every single spike to you by pointing at you and smiling for the rest of the game, feeling the glare of the opponent who tried to trick him.

OIKAWA

Oikawa turned around as he heard his name called after the warm up. He sighs to himself, putting on a fake smile. “I think your girlfriend is cheating on you.” An new face approached him and states plainly. “I saw her talking to another player on my team and giggling all cute.” Oikawa immediately scoffed. Did she actually? “Well first of all, you don’t have the right to call her cute. Second, could you point out the player to me?” The opponent smirked and pointed to a tall guy with curly hair. This idiot. “..That’s her cousin. God, you’re giving me so much second hand embarrassment right now. Her giggle is just naturally cute, and plus, I’m too amazing to cheat on.” Oikawa answered with a smug smile and walked on the court, leaving the opponent with an open mouth, staring at him. Oikawa made it a point to be extra romantic with you while in the opponent’s view after the game, which Aoba Johsai won.

AKAASHI

Cheers rose from the Fukorodani side of the audience as Bokuto hit a perfect straight shot. Akaashi smirked before his thoughts were interrupted by an annoying voice. “Huh, all this support from your school, but your girlfriend’s not cheering like usual...that’s a little harsh. It must hurt, no?” Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed as a rare wave of anger washed over him, but he kept a stable tone. “What you just said was really rude, keep that to yourself. By the way, my girlfriend had a very bad day. It means a lot to me that she still came out to support me.” A second of silence passed as the opponent realized he touched a nerve, but kept pushing. “Hm..still really sad.” Akaashi remained professional. “Please stop trying to break my focus.” Their conversation was then interrupted by Bokuto, excited about his spike, who took Akaashi away and distracted him with his ranting. This actually focused him and it was even better when he looked up to see you smiling gracefully even though your day was horrible. He was so lucky to have you.

Ask/request for more of these drabbles and headcanons!

taglist form: here!

[mypoisonedvine]

Can u pls write something like dark!reader x steve rogers high school AU , where R is rich spoil brat & she always had a crush on steve but she always bully him by calling him skinny and all and Then yrs later, time changes her family discarded her from will and she becomes poor and need job, got hired for PA by dark ceo!steve rogers who she bullied her all school lifee😈😈

okay this is a lot for a headcanon but I don’t have time to do a whole oneshot BUT I also really like it so we’re gonna just make a longass headcanon here we gooooo

warnings for heavy dub con, choking, slapping, degradation (by steve), bullying (by the reader), abortion mention, brief mention of/implied assault.

“heyo pipsqueak” you called out to get steve’s attention, laughing when he frowned.  “looks like you grew a whole inch over summer, be sure to have your mom draw a line in pencil on the doorframe.”

he just rolled his eyes and got back to chatting with his friend.  not friends, friend, cause he only had one: bucky, who snarled at you as well.

“pick on someone your own size, if you can find somebody with as big a head as you,” bucky shot back, making you scoff.

“you know, it’s a shame you hang out with this deformed freak, you could’ve been popular.  you’ve got the looks for it.”

“I’d rather keep my brains, thanks,” bucky explained as you walked away with your posse of fellow popular kids.

you didn’t used to be so mean to steve.  it was sort of a comedy of errors, really.  you two had been friends in elementary school-- you, him, and bucky were the rambunctious trio up until middle school.  

things change for boys and girls in middle school.  guys just get along with each other and don’t think about it much.  girls, though... girls need to be sharp.  it’s eat or be eaten.  and you wanted to eat.

you were lucky that you developed early.  it meant that girls respected you and boys feared you-- not just for your attractive features but for the fact that you loomed a foot over most of them.

you started to take advantage of it.  and by the time you realized you had feelings for your best friend steve, it was already too late-- he was at the bottom of the food chain and you were at the top.  

you told your new girl friends that you wanted to take steve to the sadie hawkins.  they laughed at you.  for a moment, you felt what it was like to be outcast and you never wanted to feel it again.  so, you told steve and bucky that you’d grown apart.  and you were happy to just be former friends...

it was steve that started it.  he called you out.  he told you that you were nothing like who he used to know-- you had become vapid and cold and narcissistic.

“you’re so busy worrying about what other people think, you never take the time to think for yourself.”  that was what he said.  and it fucking hurt.

“saw you talking to your boyfriend steve the dweeb,” your friend tanya announced at lunch just a few minutes after that conversation.  and you were angry, and hurt, and truly friendless despite being surrounded by other popular girls.  so you said some things you could never take back.

“steve?  as if.  did you know he still sleeps with a security blanket?  and he has his friend bucky fight for him every week cause if he took a punch he’d crumble to dust?”

and so, mortal enemies were formed.  it only got worse in high school, as you fought to secure your title at the top while steve and bucky’s presence filled your heart with guilt and your gut with anger.

if only you’d known how quickly you could fall from your high horse.

it started when you dated tanya’s ex, brock.  she was made so she spread a rumor that you would fuck any guy on the football team, even all of them at once.

apparently, a lot of people believed it since tanya had been your sidekick since 6th grade.

two football players believed it.  and when you wouldn’t follow through on it, you got yourself a black eye.

that meant you missed school for a week because you couldn’t possibly show up looking like that.  tanya told everyone it was because you got grounded and sent away to church camp after your parents caught you in bed with one of the neighbors.  so now your reputation was ‘sleeps with football players and old men.’

only brock had been there for you.... but it turned out he had motives of his own.  you had originally planned to wait until college, but brock was clearly wanting something in return for putting up with dating pariah #1... so you let him take your virginity.

the condom broke.  when you dashed to the trash can to hurl in the middle of history class, you knew something was wrong.  (and lost that many more social points in the process.)

brock dumped you the second he found out you were pregnant.  didn’t even help you pay for the abortion.  he got back together with tanya and told her the real reason for your ‘medical absence’.  and that was the last straw for the former homecoming queen.

the humiliation drove you to some.... poor choices, for the next few years.  you tried not to think about them now, but it was hard not to when their consequences were staring you right in the face: no money, no job, nearly homeless, and desperate.

over a hundred job applications later, only one had called you back and scheduled an interview.  and you only needed one.

so there you were, waiting in the chilly lobby area while the receptionist typed away and chomped her gum, tapping your toes and glancing out the window occasionally.

you were surprised when you had been told your interview would be on the 51st floor.  you sort of assumed it would just be some random manager interviewing you, not somebody important enough to have a waiting room like this, or a view like this.

when a man stepped out from the nearby hallway, your eyes went wide.  he was tall, and handsome, and obviously muscular underneath the exquisite suit.  you suddenly felt underdressed in your hand-me-down business clothes.

then he called your name.  and you realized he was going to interview you.

you stood up and nodded.  “you can follow me to my office,” he instructed with a smile, leading you down the hall to the corner office.  you were in awe of the grandiosity of it all.  you were dumbfounded when you saw CEO on the door.

“there must have been a mistake,” you explained as he shut the door behind you.  “I... I’m just interviewing for an entry-level position.”

“no, there’s no mistake,” he shook his head, “I have you exactly where I want you.  take a seat.”

he circled his desk and sat on the other side of it, resting his elbows on the desk and giving you an oddly smug smile.  an awkward silence was finally broken when he realized, “you must not remember me.”

“I... have we met?” 

“I don’t blame you, I look pretty different,” he shrugged.  “I must’ve grown a whole inch this summer.”

you gave him a confused look before realization dawned on you, along with shame, and fear.

“oh... oh my god, Steve?!” you squawked.  he just grinned.  “you look... you look...”

“taller?”

sexy.

“you look great!” you said aloud instead.

“yeah,” he agreed, “wish I could say the same for you.”

you swallowed dryly.  “so that’s what you want,” you sighed, “to get back at me.  I understand.  I deserve it...”

“I don’t want revenge,” he denied.  “I’m just sorry to see you haven’t been... thriving, since high school.  your job history--” he scanned your resume briefly-- “well, you don’t have one.  have you been slumming it all this time?”

“without my parents’ money?  yeah,” you admitted.  

“surprised you applied here, instead of turning tricks on 5th and Columbus.”

your back straightened and your eyes went wide at that comment.

“I mean, you’re already dressed for it,” he smirked.

you stood up and crossed your arms.  “if you’re just going to insult me, then I’ll leave now.  I’m sorry for everything I did to you, steve,” you announced, voice shaky with oncoming tears.

“can you really afford to leave?” he pressed.  “if you have a chance at a job?”

that, unfortunately, got your attention.  “you... you might actually offer me something?”

“I will offer you something,” he corrected, “if you just sit down and listen.”

you relented, returning to your seat.  you could stand a lot more insults if there was money on the line.

“to be honest, there’s no way I can hire you for the position you applied for,” he sighed.  “you’re just underqualified.  but I think I can create a position for you.”

you liked the sound of that.  “what kind of position?”

“well, that’s tricky, seeing as you don’t have any skills,” he frowned, “except one.  so that’s the one I plan on using.”

the look in his eyes made it all too clear what he was referring to, but as you shrunk into the leather chair he went ahead and clarified.

“I’ll pay you whatever salary you saw in the ad.  but you won’t be doing data analysis or office management or anything like that.  all you’ll be doing is spreading your legs for me whenever I fucking want.”

fear shot up your spine; his eyes were devouring you, pinning you to the chair, and you tried to process that.  “I--”

“before you say anything,” he interrupted immediately, “let’s just be perfectly clear that this might be your only shot at a real job.  what I’m offering has better pay than stripping, and better benefits than hooking.  and unless you have any education or experience I don’t know about, you’re totally fucked.”

“seems like I’m fucked either way,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“see, you’ve still got that sharp tongue,” he grinned.  “can’t wait to put it to better use.”

maybe it was just desperation for cash.  maybe it was because he was good-looking and you could do a lot worse.  maybe it was because, on some level, you felt like you deserved his punishment after how horribly you’d treated him.

“I’ll do it,” you sighed.  “when do I start?”

he stood up and reached across the desk to grab your neck, glaring at you.  “right now.”

his free hand was already fumbling with his belt, the one on your throat guiding you downwards.  “on your knees,” he instructed, and you slipped out of the chair and onto the floor.

he let go of your neck and you figured he was going to come to you, but instead he stood still and demanded: “crawl.”

debasing as it was, you crawled on your knees to his side of the desk, and he laughed at you bitterly.  when you reached his feet and popped back up, you gasped at the sight of his hard cock right in front of your face. it was bigger than your face.  and it was dripping precum.

“don’t get so bug-eyed, you can handle it,” he grinned.  “if your mouth’s as big as I remember...”

you didn’t want to hear any more.  you just wanted to get this over with, so you quickly took his head between your lips and started to suck.  you were shocked when he slapped you, hard enough to knock his length from your mouth and to make you reach up and clutch your stinging cheek.

“fucking whore,” he grimaced, “did I say you could put it in your mouth?  god, you’re so fucking desperate.  just open your fucking mouth and I’ll show you what I want, okay?”

you nodded and stammered an apology, looking up at him with watery eyes and an open mouth.  he swiped the latest drop of precum on your tongue before gliding his cock over it, grabbing your hair to keep you steady as he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

“fuck, that’s better,” he sighed.  “so much better when you just do what you’re told.  I remember how you used to be so cruel with this mouth.  now you’re being so welcoming...”

you just sat there and let him use your mouth, trying not to gag when he hit your throat.

“look up at me,” he instructed, “yeah, that’s it.  can’t have you forgetting who’s doing this to you, now can we?”

that went on for a bit longer until mascara-stained tears streaked your face, which he seemed rather proud of.

“damn, wouldn’t mind having you swallow my come right now,” he admitted, “but I have bigger plans.  get up, bend over my desk.”

you coughed briefly when he pulled out, but did as you were told.  he instantly yanked your skirt up over your ass and spanked you several times roughly, making you sob and whine.

“wanna see this ass all bruised up in the shape of my hand,” he explained.  “so we can both remember how hard I fucked you.”

he tore your panties like they were paper, chuckling when he found you already wet.

“dripping already, just from choking on my cock?  poor baby...”

you spread your legs slightly, though you were sure nothing was going to adequately prepare you for his size.

“you figured out how to use birth control since graduating, right?” he asked, and you nodded quickly.  “good.  cause I’m not using a condom,” he continued as he let his cock glide over your folds, groaning slightly, “and there’s no way in hell I’m pulling out.”

he pushed forward in one brutal stroke, making you cry out loudly.  you really hoped these rooms were mostly soundproof.

“shit, you’re tight,” he hissed, already pulling back and thrusting back in.  “clearly you recovered from your years of slutting it up in high school.”

“that-- that wasn’t true,” you defended.

“oh, just shut up,” he growled.

he fucked you fast and deep, his hips pushing yours into the edge of his desk with each thrust.  his hands pinned you down at your shoulders, another reminder that you were entirely at his mercy.

“fuck, this is just what you needed... somebody to put you in your place.  makes sense that it should be me, since you hated me so much.”

“I didn’t h-hate you,” you hiccuped. 

“yeah, you wanted me, didn’t you?”

“always,” you admitted.

“wanted my fat fuckin’ cock to tear up your pussy?  is that it?”

“yes,” you moaned, “yes, steve, wanted to be yours.”

“even when I was skinny and short?”

“even when you hated me,” you added.

he growled slightly and you felt your walls tighten around him suddenly.  he chuckled, clearly aware that you were enjoying this.

“you want more, baby?  want me to fuck you harder?”

“whatever you want,” you answered instead.  “just use me however you want.”

he moaned and leaned down to cage your body in with his.  “fuck, baby... you’re taking this better than I thought you would.  such a good girl for me, huh?  such a good little slut.  want me to use you, baby?  take all my anger out on you?”

“yes,” you whispered, sobbing when he began to fuck you more brutally than you thought possible.  but it felt good.  so good that your legs were shaking, so good that you felt even better when he tugged your hair.

“yeah, gonna come on my cock, aren’t you?” 

you nodded and bit your lip.

“m’ close too,” he admitted, “you’re gonna be so full of my come, it’s gonna be dripping down your legs when you walk out of here...”

your orgasm made your body shake and your eyes roll back.

“fuck, I can feel you coming,” he groaned, “fuck, just like that-- fuck!”

you felt his warmth fill you as his cock flexed against your walls.  you were busy trying to catch your breath when he slumped down on top of you and pushed the air from your lungs.

“damn... didn’t think I was gonna come that fast,” he sighed.  “see what you do to me?  fuck, I knew this was a good idea.”

sure, it felt good, but you were sure he was only going to get rougher and meaner the longer this went on.  you couldn’t imagine how you were going to get out of here without somebody noticing your wrinkled clothes, messed-up hair and, as he’d pointed out himself, come all over your thighs.

“guess I’ll see you at 8am tomorrow, huh?” he chuckled, giving you an unexpected peck on the cheek.  you couldn’t answer, though, interrupted by the phone on his desk ringing.  “oh, sorry, gotta get this.”

he reached for the phone and picked it up, bringing to his ear all without pulling out of you or even lifting his body from on top of yours.

“bucky, hey,” steve grinned as he spoke into the phone, looking down at you and stroking your hair, “you’re not gonna believe who I ran into today...”