#aside more talk trivia

[jebeplanet]

☆ 231201 ASIDE: MORE TALK TRIVIA ☆ ZEROBASEONE RICKY ☆

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley doesn't hear from you after the first game, he thinks that's it. But you got his heart pounding and made him smile, and he wants to see you again. The realization that maybe something that perfect should be left as a one night stand hits him hard, but he wants to know if there could be more.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst and smut (18+)

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was laying in bed on Saturday morning with the New York times app open on his phone, scrolling to find your article. When his eyes settled on your name below the title, he tapped on it. The app took him to your full biography and a picture of you in front of Wrigley Field. 

You even looked beautiful in your stock photo image. He was tempted to save it to his photo gallery, but instead he skimmed your bio. You'd lived all over the country and played every sport imaginable as a child. You had graduated first in your class from Syracuse University, and you were undefeated at sports trivia.

The smile on his lips grew as he read the article that you must have submitted before your deadline last night. Your writing style was fun and entertaining, and you had even mentioned the comment he made about the catcher for the Angels. Bradley groaned and tossed his phone aside. He wanted to see you again.

But as he got out of bed and headed for his bathroom, he reminded himself that last night had one night stand written all over it. You were in California for work. You both said that hooking up like that wasn't something you normally did. He was sure you just did it for a bit of fun. Bradley was an idiot for catching feelings after a few hours with you, but it felt like he already knew you. Talking to you in person felt like reading your articles, because your writing matched your personality so well. Witty, intelligent, funny and charming.

"Chill the fuck out," Bradley told himself in the bathroom mirror. "It's done."

Then he spent the day trying to think about anything that wasn't sports related. He even took a ten mile run up along the beach to kill some time. And when Nat asked him if he was going to the Hard Deck, he decided that would help. 

But everyone there was wearing Padres gear and talking about that game one victory. And Bradley swallowed hard when he saw that Shannon was working behind the bar. He hadn't thought about her much recently, and she definitely hadn't crossed his mind at all when he'd been with you. But nevertheless, Bradley smiled when she greeted him.

"Hey, Rooster," she said with that grin that he was so used to. And she poured him a beer before he even asked for one. "You think you'll stick around for last call?" 

He watched her hand as she slid the beer across the bartop. "I'll let you know?" he asked, barely able to meet her eyes. 

"Sounds good. I'll start a tab for you."

He just nodded and turned to find the other aviators. Sleeping with Shannon tonight might help Bradley get you off his mind. But did he want to? He kind of liked the way warm thoughts of your voice and your smile kept bubbling to the surface. He could hear you asking him if he'd write back to a text from you. Honestly, he had been low key hoping you'd contact him today, and then he could have proven that he'd write back immediately, just like he promised. 

But he'd heard nothing. No text. No call. You hadn't done anything with his phone number. 

"What's your problem?" Nat asked, pinching his arm until he snapped out of it. "I asked you three times if you wanted to play pool with me."

"I'm not in the mood," he groaned, rubbing his arm as the TV screen caught his attention. They were playing World Series highlights and talking about tomorrow night's game. 

"Why are you pouting?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nat, I'm not pouting."

"You are. Is this because Bagman is flirting with Shannon?"

Bradley glanced over his shoulder and saw that Nat was correct. Jake was leaning on the bar, trying his hardest to get Shannon to smile. "Nah. I told you, that's just casual. Doesn't mean anything." He sipped his beer.

"Well whatever is bothering you, either tell me about it or get over it, because I want to beat Javy and Reuben at pool for once."

Bradley closed his eyes and told her, "I met someone at the game last night."

"No!" she gasped. "Tell me everything."

After he hesitated for a beat, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on your name in the NYT app before handing it to her. He watched Nat as she skimmed the screen and examined your photo.

"Oh! You met her? Oh, shit....you hooked up with her!"

"Yeah," he grunted, glad that his best friend didn't need much help to figure out exactly what was going on with him. She never did. 

"You like her! Why can I so easily picture you happily married to a sports writer? You could have six kids, and each one would play a different sport. One would play softball, one would be a kickass hockey player, one would play soccer, you'd probably have a ballerina-"

"Nat," he said, cutting her off with a laugh. "I'm not going to see her again. I gave her my number, but I haven't heard from her." He turned back to the bar to find that Shannon was alone again. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if he stayed until last call.

"Bradley. She's probably covering game two! You could go back to Petco Park tomorrow."

"Yeah," he grunted. "She's definitely covering game two. She told me she was. Right after I gave her my number which she hasn't used. It was just a hookup, Nat."

"I'll buy you a ticket," she said, fishing out her own phone. "An early Christmas present."

"Don't you dare. The resale price is up to almost a thousand bucks for the nosebleed seats."

She sighed and said, "Fine. But you should still think about going."

----------------------------

After you spent most of your weekend in your hotel room doing research and writing, you decided to take a few hours off on Sunday afternoon. And it was during this time, when you went for a walk through Balboa Park, that you let yourself accept the fact that you'd been working like a maniac all weekend to try to keep your mind off of Bradley.  

Your hotel room smelled like his cologne or aftershave or maybe his laundry detergent. It was nice. Kind of comforting. You wanted to lay in bed with him until you smelled like it, too. But on Saturday morning, when you had thrown away the rogue condom wrapper, you decided it was better to throw away his phone number, too. You tried to rip that sheet out of your notebook since you no longer needed those stats, but you couldn't do it. Instead it was tucked away with your other work items, and you hoped you wouldn't cave and contact him.

After you took a shower, you grabbed your bag and your media pass and headed out early so you would have time to get some food when you got there. You liked that the ballparks usually served up local treats, and you'd get there in time to actually enjoy some fish tacos or a poke bowl tonight. You even thought about grabbing a local beer and drinking it on the main concourse before heading up to the box. You decided to go up and set down your computer and then find the beer cart.

But when you approached the narrow stairs that would take you up to the press box, you froze.

"Ace."

He was standing there, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, an earnest look on his handsome face.

"Bradley," you gasped as your heart thudded with excitement. "What are you doing here? Did you win another contest?"

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I bought a ticket."

You knew the tickets were reselling at a premium price, and as he pushed away from the wall and dropped his arms to his sides, you asked, "Really? You're that much of a Padres fan?"

He shrugged and kind of shook his head, but your breath caught in your throat when he said, "You never texted me, Ace. I haven't stopped thinking about you for a single second, but you didn't text or call me."

He was close enough now that you could smell him, and you almost whimpered as your eyes fluttered closed. "You really wanted me to use your number?" you asked, meeting his eyes once again.

"Of course. That's why I wrote it down," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Shit, I shouldn't have come here to see you." He was blushing profusely and looking at the floor. "You wanted that to be a one time thing, didn't you?" he asked, glancing up at your eyes with a slight grimace on his face. 

Well now you weren't so sure. You thought he had just written his number down as a tactic. It wouldn't have been the first time you had a guy see how far he could get you to go while making you feel like you had some sort of safety net. Making you think he was really into you. But maybe Bradley actually was?  

"Bradley, I-"

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "In an effort to not completely ruin the perfection of Friday night in my mind, I'm gonna go."

You watched him turn, and he made it about ten steps before you ran to him, reaching for his bicep. "Bradley, wait." When he stopped, you bumped into him, but he steadied you. You swallowed hard. He was so attractive, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about him all weekend. Inviting him back to your hotel room again had been a fun fantasy you'd indulged in since late Friday night. "Do you want to sit with me again? In the box?"

He looked surprised now. "Yeah."

"Okay." You linked your fingers with his and led him back to the stairs. He still looked a little tentative as you added, "Let's go."

When you used your card to open the door, you made it halfway up the stairs before you paused and turned to look at him. He was one step below you, and your height just about matched up with his. He still looked a little surprised, but there was a soft smile on his lips now, and you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around his.

"To be clear, did you buy a one thousand dollar ticket so you could stand at the bottom of these stairs and try to see me again tonight?"

"Yes," he said clearly and without hesitation. You shook your fingers free from his and wrapped both of your hands around the back of his neck before leaning in to kiss him. Your nose brushed along the side of his as you felt the prickle of his mustache against your skin. And then his hands were on your waist as he welcomed you into his arms. He parted his lips for you as you dragged your fingers up into his hair. Then he broke the kiss long enough to rasp, "I like you, Ace."

You kissed his lips once more before running your lips along his mustache. He squeezed your waist a little tighter as the door opened behind him. When you saw that it was Raya, another sports writer, you took Bradley by the hand again and led him all the way into the box.

"Don't get into any trouble today," you whispered, pushing him down into the same stool he had occupied on Friday night. "I got you in with my pass."

"I'll be so good," he promised, looking up at you with eyes far too innocent for the rest of his smirking face. And somehow you doubted it.

-------------------------

Bradley couldn't keep his hands off you as you worked. He kept finding ways to trace little circles along your back. The pace of game two seemed to be a lot faster as the Angels got into a better groove against the Padres, and you were frantically keeping your stats as you typed away. 

"You want something else to eat?" he asked you between innings as you scribbled out some notes that he supposed must have made sense to you.

"Yes, please," you said, turning to smile at him. You watched Bradley stand, and he headed to the table lined with food. You seemed surprised that he had been sincere when he said he wanted you to text him. Yeah, he'd been joking around a little bit when he wrote his number down in your notebook, but he was kind of crushed when he hadn't heard from you. 

When Bradley turned to take the food back to that little spot you and he were sharing in the last row, he saw the reporter in front of you turn around and start giving you a hard time.

"You gonna bring your boyfriend to each game, New York?"

Bradley wanted to punch this asshole in the face, because who even made comments like that? But instead he watched you sigh dramatically and say, "At least I can get laid, Quincy. You're such a hater. Now turn around, I'm busy."

But Bradley did shoot Quincy a glare for good measure, and he didn't take his eyes off him until he had turned around. "More food," Bradley told you, setting the plate down where you could reach it without it being in your way. Then he settled onto his stool and draped his arm across the back of yours while you picked at the food. 

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Thanks," just as the Padres hit a home run. Bradley desperately wanted to cheer, but nobody cheered in the press box, apparently. So he sat quietly while you updated your stat sheet and ate a taco. 

"Which team do you cheer for, Ace?" he asked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. "You know, when you're not working and allowed to cheer."

Your lips parted in silence before you pressed them together, and then you said, "I never tell anyone my favorite teams."

Bradley examined your face for a beat. "You want to tell me, don't you?"

"Oh my god," you moaned, head tipped back. "Yeah, I actually do."

As Bradley shook from the laughter he was trying to hold in, you leaned in close to him. "You can tell me," he said, grinning. "I'll keep your secret."

You let your palm come to rest on his abs before sliding it along to his waist as you pressed your lips to his ear. "You can't tell anyone. Ever."

The feel of your lips on him, about to divulge something so important to your career had him pulling you closer. You laughed softly as your lips bumped his ear, and Bradley stifled a moan. 

"I won't say a word about it," he promised.

"My favorite team is the Toronto Blue Jays."

That was about to become Bradley's favorite team, too. Maybe he could go to a game with you when you were allowed to cheer. 

"Do you know what their mascot is named?" you asked as you eased yourself back into your seat. When he shook his head, you picked up your pencil and wrote in the margin of your stat sheet.

Ace.

Bradley laughed again. You had him smiling or laughing nonstop right now, and he couldn't believe it was already the eighth inning. It was getting late in the game now, but you were still writing. 

Do you want to come back to my hotel with me again?

And then he realized that this was the first time he'd thought about fucking you all day. 

Bradley leaned in close and kissed your neck a few times before he said, "Only if you save my number in your phone." Because as much as he'd been thinking yesterday about how good it felt to have sex with you, he wanted to hear from you when it wasn't a game day. He wanted to keep talking to you.

During the break at the end of the inning, you pulled your phone out and made a show of flipping to the previous page in your notebook and entering his phone number into your contacts list. Then you turned your phone screen away from him and typed something out, and he just waited to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. When he did, he looked at his messages and saw that you had sent him a photo of you with the Toronto Blue Jays mascot. And you captioned it with: Be honest, which Ace do you think is cuter?

He typed out to you, I'm not sure if you knew this, but I'm wildly attracted to blue feathers.

When you looked at your phone again, your laughter was loud enough to have Quincy turning around and earning another glare from Bradley. And just as the ninth inning started, you texted Bradley one more time. I hope you replaced your wallet condom, Boy Scout Bradley. 

Truthfully, he had not. Getting lucky hadn't been his primary thought when he was just wanting to see you again. He muttered, "We're gonna need more than one, Ace."

And as your hand came to rest on his thigh, you tapped your lips with your pencil eraser. "I saw them for sale in the hotel lobby."

---------------------------

You couldn't remember feeling this way ever before. At least not with someone you barely knew. Bradley had your bag on his shoulder and he was practically carrying you across the parking lot as you laughed. You liked him a lot. He came back to see you again today. He was so funny and sweet, and you should have texted him on Saturday. 

"You seem very eager," you whispered against his cheek as you kissed him at the crosswalk. You were running your hands all over his shoulders and dipping your hands inside his Padres jersey. 

He picked you up to carry you across the street with the crowd of other pedestrians. "I'm hoping you'll show me your blue feathers tonight," he rasped, making you laugh even more. 

"I knew you liked the other Ace better!"

He kissed your neck, and once he had you inside the hotel lobby, he said, "No, you're my favorite."

"Condoms," you whispered, pointing toward the small convenience shop next to the front desk. Bradley set you down and grabbed up all ten double packs of condoms and dumped them in front of the young guy who was working at the front desk.

"Is that all you needed, sir?"

Bradley pulled out his credit card and handed it to him, looking at you while he said, "Well no, that's not all I need." His gaze was openly needy as he looked at your face, lingering on your lips. You felt warm all over, and when Bradley had all twenty condoms in his hands again, you hooked your fingers though the belt loop of his jeans and pulled him toward the elevators. 

"Let's go, Boy Scout."

Bradley groaned as the elevator door opened and you pulled him inside. He stood before you with your computer bag, so many packs of condoms and an erection that you could plainly see behind his zipper. You giggled and ran your thumbnail up and down his zipper as you said, "You're adorable."

He swallowed hard as you led him out on the top floor and down the corridor toward your room. "Ace? Baby?"

"Yeah?" you asked, unlocking the door as he stood behind you and let you feel him pressed to your lower back.

"Maybe you should finish writing your article first? I don't want you to get too close to your deadline again."

You opened the door and backed into the room, pulling him in with you. "No," you whispered before you kissed him hard. "I want you right now."

You grabbed one of the double packs of condoms from his hands, and he let the rest of them fall to the floor. The smile that you and he shared had your tummy doing somersaults as he gently set down your computer bag. You continued to back up slowly to the bed as he followed you. When you toed off your shoes, you watched him pause to pull his off as well. And then you were holding up the condoms and walking backwards across the bed on your knees until you reached the middle. 

Bradley was frozen, just staring at you with a crooked smile on his face and his hands on his zipper. "I'm waiting," you whispered. And then you weren't waiting anymore at all, because Bradley was on top of you, wrapping his arms around you as his weight pushed you down into the bedding.

You moaned into his kisses as you ran your fingers through his hair. He already felt, smelled and sounded familiar to you. He tugged on your shirt until he was kissing you through your bra.

"You don't taste like beer today," he murmured against your skin, teasing you with his mustache. 

"No, you managed not to spill," you replied, pulling your own shirt off as he unhooked your bra. His mouth was all over your breasts once he tossed your bra on the floor, and you were arching your back up against him. "You feel good."

He groaned into your skin while you felt him grind against your core through way too much fabric. "Ace." His hands were cupping your breasts as he let his lips drift down your belly until he was kissing along the top of your jeans. You unbuttoned and unzipped your pants and let him pull them down your legs. And then he was still fully clothed, giving you head just like two nights ago.

He was good at it, too. But when you started to touch your own breasts, he got distracted, lips grazing your clit as he watched you. When he lazily brought the pad of his thumb up along your slit and started teasing you, the sounds you made were so needy. You thought he could probably get you off like this if you wanted him to. 

But you sat up and made quick work of his jersey buttons while he slipped his index finger inside you. "Bradley," you moaned softly as he kissed your neck and finger fucked you. He just seemed to want to make you feel good, and your hands stalled as you pushed his jersey down off both of his shoulders. Your palms came to rest on his warm biceps, and you could feel his arm muscles working as he fingered you. 

"Tell me what you want, Ace," he grunted, stroking your clit with his thumb. He'd said that on Friday as well. 

"I want you naked and inside me."

He let you undress him then, and you took his cock in both of your hands. You watched him roll onto his back as you teased him with your fingers, running your nails down along his thighs. The veins in his neck were strained, and his cheeks were flushed as his eyes darted from your face down to your hands and back up. He was glorious. Huge everywhere. Tan and muscular and perfect. So hard and eager to please. 

When you straddled his hips and planted your hands on his shoulders, he pulled you to him, kissing your lips until you were laying flat on him. His length was gliding through your soaked pussy, and you moaned at the feel of him rubbing slowly against your clit. You mumbled his name, but he just kissed your lips harder, wrapping those big hands around your hips. 

With each little movement of your hips grinding against him, you were closer to fucking him, so you gasped, "Condom." 

"Mmhmm," he hummed, one big hand at the middle of your back while he reached blindly around the bedding in search of the small package. His lips were still soft and perfect on yours, unhurried as he handed you the condoms. You pressed your forehead to his as you fumbled trying to open one of them, and then you were sitting up between his legs, rolling it down his length, ready to go.

You guided yourself down around his cock, and he felt incredible, just like before. "Oh god," you whined softly, taking every inch of him while he grasped your thighs hard. 

"So pretty," he whispered, watching you fucking him. Soon you were riding him fast and rough, bracing your hands on his abs. You couldn't even talk or formulate words as you whimpered, because he was hitting that sweet spot inside you. With every movement you were getting closer, and Bradley looked like he was struggling to keep it together. 

You took his right hand, and brought it up to your mouth, sucking on his index and middle fingers to get them wet. "Baby, it feels too good," he groaned, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Then you guided his hand down to your clit, and you started cumming almost instantly. You held onto his wrist, rubbing your clit against his fingers with each stroke of your pussy along his cock.

Loud, incoherent noises filled the room as you came, riding him without finesse, head tipped back. And then Bradley was sitting up, right arm wrapped around your waist while he braced himself with his left palm on the bed. He whispered praise against your skin, pausing to kiss you as he thrust his hips up to fuck you as you came down from your high. "You're so hot. So good."

He sucked on your neck before his movements became jerky, and then he was chanting Ace! as he came too. He collapsed back against the bed with you held tightly to his chest, and you ran your fingers along his sweaty neck and up to stroke his jaw.

---------------------------------------

Bradley had nearly fallen asleep with your warm body draped over his and his soft cock still buried inside you. And then your phone alarm went off, and you were instantly scrambling to find your jeans amongst the pile of clothing on the floor.

"Shit," you muttered, glancing at him as you silenced your phone and checked the time. "I need to finish writing and submit my piece."

Bradley nodded and rolled onto his side and reached for a tissue to take care of the used condom. The last thing he wanted to do was go home now, but you had work to do, and he needed to be on base in the morning. He stood as you scooped his jersey up off the floor, but instead of handing it to him, you slipped it on. It fit you like a cute, little dress. 

"My article is almost done," you murmured, retrieving your bag from near the door where he had set it down earlier. He smiled as you stepped around all the other packs of condoms. "I just need to add in my stats and proofread everything."

"Okay," he whispered, unwilling to break the spell that he felt like he was under when he was in your presence. "I can head out." He started to reach for his undershirt and boxer briefs, figuring you could just keep his jersey if you wanted to wear it. 

But Bradley found himself wanting to ask if he could see you again. You saved his phone number this time, and while you were going up to Los Angeles for game three, he was hoping you'd be back in San Diego again. He was almost pissed now that the Padres were up two games to none in the World Series, because the more games that these two teams played, the longer you'd be in California. And LA was a hell of a lot closer to San Diego than New York City was.

As he held his clothes in his hand, you bit your lip and looked at him while your computer booted up. "You can stay. If you want?"

He froze, trying to process what you meant. "Stay?"

"Yeah," you whispered, taking him by the hand. "While I write."

He instantly dropped everything back to the floor as you pulled him to the desk chair. He sat down and then you sat on his naked thigh, entering your impressively long password and pulling up your mostly completed article. You flipped through your notebook to your stats sheet, and Bradley let his hand come to rest on your leg. 

"You wanna help me?" you asked, typing away. "Tell me when Soto was on third."

Bradley skimmed the sheet and found the information. "Bottom of the sixth inning. Right before Grisham hit a double." He leaned in and kissed your neck as you murmured thanks. 

"And when did Hill replace Darvish?"

Bradley read your sloppy notes and smiled. "Halfway through the seventh inning."

"Perfect," you whispered, and Bradley held you quietly as you scrolled to the top of your article and read it out loud. Your voice was captivating, and you somehow made the game he had seen in person even more interesting. He chuckled at the part where you mentioned how the Angels' coach had tripped coming out of the bullpen, and you smiled at him over your shoulder before you finished reading. 

"Damn, Ace," he muttered as you saved it one last time and logged in to submit the article. "That was brilliant." Bradley was getting hard again. Some sort of combination of what you said and how you said it turned him on. 

You closed your computer and laughed softly, nudging his erection with your knee as you turned in his arms. You glanced down at his cock, standing at attention for you, and Bradley could feel himself blushing. "Oh," you gasped, running your fingernails along his length as you grinned. "Eager again."

Bradley groaned and let his head tip back as you kissed his neck. "I think I'm always going to be eager for you. Talking about sports and wearing my Padres jersey are certainly helping."

Your laughter was his undoing as your lips met his warm cheek, and then Bradley watched your face as your pussy cradled his cock so that he was gently throbbing against your clit. "How many more condoms do we have?" you asked, fingers in his chest hair. 

"Nineteen," he replied, voice deep and raspy with need. 

"I'll be right back," you promised, kissing his lips before you stood and grabbed the unused condom from the bed. His jersey was open, offering him a peek here and there of your tits and belly as you moved. Then you were rolling this condom into place and straddling his hips on the chair.

Bradley pulled the jersey open wider so he could watch you sink around his cock. You felt like perfection, and the way your body looked as you took him was making him dizzy.

"You know," you sighed as he bottomed out inside you, "if the Angels start a different pitcher for game three, it could really throw off the Padres plans."

"Yeah?" he asked, stroking the soft skin of your waist as you rolled your hips. "Tell me more."

"Mmm, well, they've been following the same plan the whole season, right?" you asked, your lips grazing his as you spoke. 

"Yeah, they have," Bradley agreed, already ridiculously close as you fed him this brand of dirty talk.

"I think they should try something new and start Hermans instead," you whined, kissing him hard as you rode him.

"Are you trying to turn me on right now, Ace?"

"Yeah," you gasped as you fucked him harder. "Is it working?"

"You know it is, Baby," he groaned, grinding his hips up to meet yours. "Fuck, you already know how to make me wild."

Then you were gasping out pitching stats, your voice breaking as you rode him so well. Bradley was barely keeping it together, and then your fingers were in his hair, tugging at the roots. He knew what to do now; he licked his fingers and brought them to your tight clit, and your eyes went wide. 

"Yes!" you gasped, seemingly surprised that he had you cumming almost instantly. And the sight of your tits bouncing in his face was the last thing he saw before he sucked on your nipples and came hard.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck as his breathing evened out. He was trying to focus on your words, because they sounded very important. "If the Padres sweep the Angels, then I won't be back in San Diego. But if they go to a game six scenario, maybe we can see each other again?"

Yes, your words were very, very important. He wanted you to come back to San Diego, but he was determined to see you even if you didn't. "I could come up to LA. Get a ticket for game three. If you want."

You pulled away from him, and then Bradley was looking up into your surprised eyes. "Yeah?" you asked softly. 

"Sure, Ace," he mumbled, running his knuckles along the soft valley between your breasts. "I'd love to. But it's up to you."

Your voice was soft. "Okay."

Then Bradley kissed your lips and said what was on his mind. "We should keep doing this. Me and you. Until the World Series ends. Until you have to leave California."

He could feel your pussy squeeze his soft cock as you started kissing him and running your fingers through his hair. And a few minutes later, he had you in your hotel room bed, snuggling up with your back pressed to the front of his body as you both fell asleep. 

--------------------------

Bradley is out there dropping a cool grand just to try to verify if that was actually a one night stand or not. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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[howi99]

Prince of Vale part 2

Jaune: *sitting on his bed, looking pensive*

Pyrrha: *brushing her hair* Is something wrong?

Jaune: Hm? *Shake his head* No no, it's just... You remember that girl in class?

Pyrrha: Which one?

Jaune: The one from Haven. The one who acts as if she is superior to everyone, but at the same time tries to hide it behind the fake smile.

Pyrrha: Oh, Cinder, right?

Jaune: *snapping his fingers* Yeah, that one. She kept looking at me all day.

Pyrrha: *roll her eyes* Another Princess wannabe. *Sigh* You'd think they get the message after you said no to the 20th.

Jaune: Pyrrha, you know better than anyone what fame does. *Chuckle* Your fan even thinks we are dating and they STILL send you love letters.

Pyrrha: *mumbling* If only that was true.

Jaune: What?

Pyrrha: *shake her head* Nothing. So, where were you going with this?

Jaune: Well, at first i thought it was sympathy or something, but it looks... I don't know. Weird? It's like she wants to talk to me and at the same time run away. I'm just wondering what's wrong, you know?

Pyrrha: *mumbling again* Goddamn hussy, i'll show you...

Jaune: Pyrrha? Are you ok? You seem a bit... Angry.

Pyrrha: *crossing her arms, frowning* I'm not. And yes, i know what you mean. Maybe she didn't have the best childhood? Mistral isn't known for being the best of place.

Ren: *who was reading a book* I wonder what would make you say that.

Nora: *playing on her scroll* Yeah, it's the safest place ever. Totally not a den of criminal.

Jaune: *chuckle* Sarcasm aside, maybe we should try befriending her?

Nora: *pausing the game* Are you sure she's... Uh... Kind of a bitch.

Ren: *looking up from his book* Worse than Weiss?

Nora: Touché.

Jaune: *shrug* Beside, it might give us more information on their team. Weakness and all that, you know?

Pyrrha: That... Sounds more callous than you used to be.

Jaune: *shaking his head* Sorry, old habits. My bumbling fool persona might not be far from the real me, but taking advantage of any situation IS important as a king. *Scratch the back of his head* My tutors drilled that teaching in my mind.

Meanwhile, in Cinder's team dorm

Cinder: *irritated* He's been looking at me for the last few periods. I think he is onto us.

Mercury: His mother died not even a week ago and everyone knows he is going to be the next king. *Shrug* I'd be paranoid too. He's probably the biggest target of every kidnapper in Vale.

Emerald: *sigh* As much as i hate to admit it, Mercury is right.

Cinder: *massaging her eyelids* I know that already, but it's not as if we are trying to kidnap him. *Sigh* Her Majesty asked us to look after him in secrecy, and i won't fail that mission.

Trivia: *texting* The queen did say he was a good judge of character. He probably already knows that we are trying to look after him. Or at least, that we aren't after him.

Emerald: And you were watching him a bit too intensely-

Cinder: Of course i was! The son of the woman who took me in when i was a slave is in front of me! I would give my life for him!

Mercury: *placing a hand on her shoulder* So would any of us. But you need to calm down, if you don't want our cover to blow up. Roman worked his ass off for them and i don't think they would work a second time.

Trivia: *texting* Maybe you should wear sunglasses? At least he wouldn't see that you are looking at him specifically.

Emerald: *shake her head* It's too late for that, we should try doing some damage control.

[dan-the-womans-blog]

Title: A Cozy Night In

(Spencer x reader x Derek)

The BAU had been relentless for the past few weeks. Case after case, the team was feeling the strain, and you, Spencer Reid, and Derek Morgan were no exception. So when the team finally got a weekend off, you jumped at the opportunity to relax and unwind at Spencer’s apartment.

The three of you had grown incredibly close over the years, forming a bond that was deeper than friendship. You were a tight-knit trio, often teasingly referred to as the “dream team” by the rest of the BAU. Though there were occasional jokes about who your favorite was, you loved both Spencer and Derek equally, each bringing their own unique charm and comfort into your life.

Friday evening arrived, and you found yourself standing outside Spencer’s door, arms laden with bags of snacks and a couple of DVDs. The plan was simple: a movie marathon and a night of pure, unadulterated relaxation.

Spencer answered the door with a soft smile. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he quickly stepped aside to let you in. “Hey, (Y/N). Come on in. Derek’s just getting the blankets ready.”

You stepped inside and immediately felt the warmth and coziness of Spencer’s apartment. It was filled with bookshelves and comfortable furniture, making it the perfect place to unwind. As you made your way to the living room, you could hear Derek’s deep voice from around the corner.

“Come on, Pretty Boy, do you really need all these blankets?” Derek teased, though his tone was affectionate.

“Of course we do,” Spencer replied earnestly. “We need to be comfortable if we’re going to watch movies all night.”

You laughed at their playful banter and entered the living room to see Derek spreading out a mountain of blankets and pillows on the floor. His muscular frame contrasted sharply with Spencer’s slender build, but they both had a look of determination on their faces as they set up the perfect movie-watching nest.

“Need any help?” you offered, setting the bags down on the coffee table.

Derek grinned at you, his dark eyes twinkling. “You just sit back and relax, (Y/N). We’ve got this covered.”

Spencer nodded in agreement, already focused on arranging the snacks. “We want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

You couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for both of them. They were always so considerate, always looking out for you. It was one of the many reasons you adored them.

Once everything was set up, the three of you settled into your cozy nest. Spencer, ever the organized one, had created a meticulous list of movies to watch, starting with a classic: "The Princess Bride."

As the movie played, you found yourself sandwiched between Spencer and Derek, their presence a comforting reminder of how lucky you were to have them in your life. Derek’s arm draped over your shoulders, his warmth radiating through your side, while Spencer leaned against you, his head resting lightly on your shoulder.

“You know,” Derek said softly, his voice rumbling pleasantly, “it’s nights like these that make all the hard work worth it.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his head to look at you both. “Agreed. It’s nice to just be able to relax and spend time together.”

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “I couldn’t agree more. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

The movie continued, but your mind drifted, basking in the simple joy of being with two of the people you loved most in the world. You couldn’t help but reflect on how special your relationship with Spencer and Derek was. It wasn’t always easy, balancing the dynamics of a three-person relationship, but the love and support you shared made it all worthwhile.

As the night wore on, the three of you talked and laughed, sharing stories and memories. Spencer, ever the genius, regaled you with fascinating facts and trivia, while Derek’s infectious laughter filled the room, making you feel light and carefree.

When the second movie started, you found yourself growing drowsy, the combined warmth of the blankets and the comforting presence of Spencer and Derek lulling you into a state of utter relaxation. You shifted slightly, nestling closer to Spencer, who responded by wrapping his arm around you.

Derek chuckled softly, his hand gently stroking your hair. “Getting sleepy there, (Y/N)?”

You nodded, unable to suppress a yawn. “Yeah, it’s been a long week.”

Spencer’s voice was soft and soothing. “Why don’t you rest for a bit? We can pause the movie if you want.”

You shook your head, smiling sleepily. “No, keep it going. I’m just happy to be here with you guys.”

Derek leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We’re happy to have you here too, (Y/N).”

The three of you settled back into a comfortable silence, the sound of the movie playing in the background. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the love and support of Spencer and Derek. They were your rock, your safe haven in a world that could often be chaotic and unpredictable.

In that moment, with Spencer’s arm around you and Derek’s hand in yours, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. And that was more than enough.

[blasphemecel]

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 0.9k TYPE: Meet-ugly (community service 💀), Crackfic WARNING(S): None? Dick jokes ?

There is a pair of shears in your hands and an ugly man to your left.

Actually, he’s not that unfortunate looking, but he seems like he should know better than whatever that excuse of a hairstyle is supposed to be.

You snip away at your government-assigned bush little by little while humming and stroking your chin in fake artisan appreciation, eyes darting between him and the shrub. Though you’re supposed to be working on this together, he hasn’t been doing much aside from pretending to prune whenever the supervisor passes by.

“Do you think I could shape it into a penis?” you ask, flicking a leaf with your finger.

The guy spares you one hateful glance before he crosses his arms, perhaps to signal that this is your battle to fight alone.

“I know they want them to be squares, but I’m into abstract art. Like really into it,” you say, lying.

He doesn’t respond.

You cut a dead branch and throw it at him, which prompts him to evaluate you like one might examine a particularly watery piece of shit out on the street. “So what’re you in for?”

“I’ve been ignoring you for fifteen minutes,” he snaps, picking up the specific stick you tossed at him from the ground and aiming for your eye when he returns the favor, possibly trying to blind you. You dodge with a smile of mild contentment. “Stop talking.”

“I imagined you to be the kinda pedantic asshole who’d argue that maybe penises aren’t abstract, or about how technically we’re not in jail, so I shouldn’t act like we are.”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you imagined,” he says before ripping out another dead branch with his bare hands (even though he also has gardening scissors like you do), immediately ruining the minimal progress you’ve made. “And you’re doing this way too slow.”

You nod, not bothering to inform him of how unhelpful he has been in this endeavor. Not that it matters. You’re not here to be productive. You just have a set of hours you need to fill out.

After a short while of mundane passivity, he realizes your chatter, while irritating, at least provided something to stimulate his mind, meaning an excuse to be annoyed. He says, “I got a parking ticket.”

“Really? Community service just for one parking ticket?”

“... I got sixty parking tickets.”

“Well, sounds to me like your parking is more in the style of post-impressionism than realism, but what do I know, I’m not a doctor.”

He ignores the twine of bullshit you just strung together, asserting himself above the usual game you fall into with people where they run around in circles riling themselves up trying to explain to you that you are talking nonsense. Instead he takes it in like it is natural and asks, “And what did you do?”

“Fraud,” you say, lying a second time. In reality you tried to shoplift a mop, although apparently both you and the item were not as inconspicuous as you believed.

“Since when do they give community service for fraud?”

“Hey,” you raise your hands in mock surrender, “it was a small-time fraud.”

“Yeah, whatever that means.”

“It means I ball like Milken,” you say.

“I don’t know who that is.”

You feel generous enough to elaborate, “Michael Milken.”

“That wasn’t an invitation for you to keep talking,” he rolls his eyes with the attitude of an invisible camera capturing his expression and turning him into a gif for people who describe themselves as ‘sassy’ to use, “nor is it helpful to anyone who doesn’t concern themselves with trivia about American scammers.” The way he says the word ‘American’ makes it sound like some kind of malaise.

“What do you concern yourself with, then? What’s your name?”

“That’s cute, but you don’t need to pretend you don’t know who I am.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together and wrinkle your forehead in an ugly manner as you struggle to conceive of what he’s on about. “Know you? Have we met before? I admit I went to that lame piano bar once, but I don’t remember anyone from there.”

“Do I look like you met me at a fucking piano bar?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Michael Kaiser.” There is a cadence of importance in his tone, so maybe he thinks his name means anything to you, which it doesn’t.

“Mike Kaiser.”

“No, not like Milken. You know how. You heard me say it.”

You turn around to go back to your gardening, deciding to work on your penis shrub project. Of course, it’s not coming out successful — there is not even a hint of a phallic shape, but even so, you must persevere.

This ‘Michael Kaiser’ watches you for a while. “You really don’t know who I am.”

“No, Mikey.”

“You’re fucking irritating,” he says. After some consideration, he adds, “Give me your number. We should go out sometime.”

“Maybe,” you agree noncommittally.

“Alright. Here’s what you’re gonna do. If you can come up with a way for us to get off community service early, I’ll give you my number,” Kaiser tells you, acting like you’re the one who came up with the idea of you two seeing each other again, or as if you’re begging to go out with him on a date.

It is very audacious. He’s standing there with a smug smirk on his face, arms still crossed. You think something’s wrong with him.

Either you’re falling in love or his display of unmedicated mental illness is arousing you because you’re suddenly feeling compelled by his advances out of nowhere, but one thing is for sure:

You’ll never really be able to trim the shrub into a penis.

[puck-luck]

co-eds | mattias samuelsson & jack quinn

warnings: dom!ms, sub!jq & sub!fem!reader, threesome (mmf!), teasing, humiliation, degradation, praise, fingering (f!receiving), head (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, use of sex toys, references to voyeurism/listening in, uhhhhhhh that's all i can think of but like they do literally everything but have actual penis in vagina sex (don't worry it's still hot) pairing: mattias samuelsson x fem!reader x jack quinn summary: based on the prompt "I'd 100,000% fall in love with Mattias if he was like my friend's roommate and I was watching them play Mario on the couch" but then turned into best friend's roommate which then turned into "oh wait these bitches are soooo homoerotic... this needs to be poly like ferris bueller" wc: 10555

The first time you met Mattias, it was the third day of classes of your sophomore year and your best friend from freshman year, one Mr. Jack Quinn, had invited you to his new house for a housewarming dinner. You had gotten yourself dolled up– jeans rather than your normal sweats– and driven to the parking lot closest to their place before walking the rest of the way.

Mattias had swung the door open and looked you up and down, making you do a double take at his large frame filling the doorway. 

“Hi,” he greeted, his Joker-ish smile crossing his face.

“Hi,” you replied. “Is Jack here?”

Mattias took you in again, then stepped aside so that you could enter the house. “He’s in the kitchen,” Mattias told you. He closed the door behind you, then collapsed on the couch in the living room like he’d been through a very hard day’s work.

That was four months ago– and plenty has changed. 

Now, you’re a mainstay at the Quinn-Samuelsson house. You spend your evenings there, whether you’re studying, eating, or just hanging out. You often spend your nights and your mornings there, too– waking up in Mattias’ queen-sized bed, tangled up in his blankets because the boy is a restless sleeper and wrapped in his arms because, despite his restlessness, Mattias can barely stand when he’s not touching you.

It started out small– he would tease you for being smaller than him, comparing the size of your hands or sitting next to you on the couch during movie nights just close enough that your thigh was pressing against his. Then, he grew bolder– a hand on your knee when seated or at the small of your back when walking behind you. It all came to a head one night after a rowdy game of bar trivia, where you and Jack had stumbled back to the house arm-in-arm and laughing. Your laughter and ruckus had woken Mattias up and you were the bold one this time, wrapping your arms around his waist and smiling up at him.

“Hi, Tits,” you slurred kindly the first time you slept in his bed, using the nickname that you and Jack had concocted to talk about Mattias behind his back. It was all out in the open now– a side effect of your drunkenness. “You’re looking especially tall today.”

He had laughed out that breathless chuckle of his and hugged you back good-naturedly, then asked if you wanted to use his bed instead of the couch that night. You had agreed and after a copious amount of whining, Mattias had joined you instead of squeezing onto the couch in your place. Jack had long since gone to bed and you and Mattias had stayed up talking about nonsense. As the sun crested the horizon, his nose nudged against yours and you realized how close you were. There was still a little liquid courage left coursing through your veins and you blame that for the way you tipped your chin up and brushed against his lips. 

It had been lazy and casual, a barely-friends with benefits situation that became more and more frequent until you were practically dependent on your dose of Mattias to get through the day.

The problem with your new relationship with Mattias is that Jack is starting to feel plenty neglected. You understand it and he doesn’t have to tell you that he’s missing you for you to notice– it’s all in his recent distance from you, how he sits across the room in the chair rather than on the couch with you and Mattias and how he keeps his hands securely in his pockets when you walk back from class or the library.

It’s really starting to bother you, but you can’t talk to Jack about it. He’ll just brush you off and say nothing is wrong, even though it so clearly is. Instead, you’re watching Mattias and Jack play a video game that doesn’t capture your interest– that, despite knowing that you came over today to hang out with Jack, is focused on Mattias’ long fingers, the ones that you’ve become well acquainted with since the first time you kissed him. 

You have tried to tear your eyes away from the digits and even succeeded a few times, but your vision keeps wandering back. You blame the smooth, deep tone of Mattias’ voice, laughing at Jack each time his character gets killed or teasing him whenever he gets close to winning, but not close enough. Mattias has a habit of using the same tone to tease you, especially when his fingers are prodding at your insides or your lips are wrapped around his cock.

Tonight is about your friendship with Jack, you remind yourself again. He’s the whole reason you even know Mattias and even more than that, he’s your best friend. You adore Jack, even when he’s bitching and whining and moaning about something petulant or putting off his homework until you relent and shove yours across the table for him to copy. He’s the best person you’ve met since starting college and you never thought that you’d be one of those girls that abandons their friends as soon as they find a boy to fuck, but you’ve been acting that way lately. You feel guilty. 

Even Mattias’ unimpressed eyes and quirked lips when you refuse to sit next to him can’t convince you to budge. You’re borderline ignoring the boy that has learned just how to push your buttons and make you scream, and he’s getting a kick out of it.

Jack is locked in on the game now, trying to capitalize on Mattias’ wandering eyes. He’s biting his bottom lip and evaluating the screen with unblinking eyes. 

You’re so fond of him– he’s competitive, like you. He’s eager to prove himself and anxious to shine, which doesn’t manifest in your classes so much as when you’re around the house. He cooks and it’s always delicious. He doesn’t even mind doing the dishes afterward. What you know started as a class crush– and nothing more– has bloomed into a strong friendship that you wouldn’t trade for anything, not even Mattias. 

Regardless of how Mattias drives you crazy, in the best way. 

Despite his focus, Jack loses by a margin. Mattias’ bragging smile causes a flutter of butterflies to erupt in your stomach even if you’re shaking your head. 

“It’s too easy,” Mattias says with a shrug. He tosses his controller onto the table in front of him and kicks his feet up, crossing his ankles and threading his fingers behind his head. The motion broadens his chest and accentuates his thighs, but once again, you refuse to be distracted.

“That’s okay, Jack.” You comfort him with a pat on his knee. 

“He wins every time,” Jack complains, tossing his own controller onto the table and adjusting his hat on his head. He does it like a tic, you’ve noticed, when he’s frustrated. “He doesn’t even have to try.”

“Not just when it comes to games, eh?” Mattias teases the boy with a wink, knocking his shoulder against Jack’s before standing. He winks at you, too, then bids you both goodnight. He walks past you, stepping over Jack’s legs rather than taking the easy route, and ruffles your hair annoyingly when he does so.

You pout and try to fix your hair when he’s done, but you’re secretly pleased– you love how Mattias shows affection. He’s so loose with it, not generic at all, and it always makes you smile.

The tall, broad boy disappears up to his bedroom, leaving you with Jack. You turn towards him and throw your legs over his lap, the arm of the couch pressed against your middle back. Jack’s hand falls on your shin, his thumb rubbing over the skin. 

“What was that about?” You ask. Mattias’ final gloat seemed pointed and specific, but you didn’t know that there was tension between the boys. Surely one of them would have told you.

“Dunno,” Jack replies. “He’s so fucking cryptic.”

“We can definitely agree on that,” you say with a laugh. 

Jack smiles and you sit in silence for a minute. Jack’s touching you comfortably, but the motion makes your skin tickle a bit, sending a shiver up your body. You blame it on the residual butterflies that Mattias left behind, still fluttering in your stomach. 

“Hey,” you say, breaking the silence.

Jack fixes you with a quizzical look. “Hey.” He raises an eyebrow, but he’s still smiling a bit. His thumb has stilled.

“I know you’ve told me a million times, but are you sure you’re okay with me and Mattias hooking up?” You ask with a self-deprecating tilt of your head, making sure you don’t break eye contact with the boy, even as he starts to duck his head.

“Everything’s fine, I swear,” Jack assures you. He holds out his pinky and you hook your pinky to it, kissing the tip of your thumb. He’s got a soft smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and once again, you know that he’s not quite telling the truth.

You don’t want to push. You don’t want to force him to tell you something he’s not ready to say, but something about the Mattias situation is bothering him. 

“Okay,” you relent, matching his smile. “You’ll tell me if it starts bothering you, right? I’ll kick him to the curb. Girl code?”

Jack scoffs, rolling his eyes at your insinuation. “I’m not one of the girls,” he grumbles.

“You like drama more than I do,” you point out.

Jack doesn’t have a smart reply for that, so he just stays silent. You laugh, then the air between you fades to silence again. This time, Jack moves your legs and stands.

“I’m gonna go to bed, too,” he says. “I bet Titty is waiting for you.”

“Yeah, probably.” You take Jack’s outstretched hand and he pulls you up. “He needs to wait sometimes. It keeps him humble.”

You’re walking towards the stairs and Jack gestures for you to go ahead. “You know, if you don’t hurry, he might fall asleep without you.” He follows you up the steps, footsteps quiet and sneaky like every other day. 

“Always looking out for me,” you praise at the top of the stairs, at the fork in the road. Jack’s bedroom is to the left, near the shared bathroom, and Mattias’ is on the right. “See you in the morning, J.”

“Not if I see you first.”

You split up and you lightly knock on Mattias’ bedroom door before slipping through the crack he left open for you. You shed your sweats and pull on one of Mattias’ t-shirts, the one he wore earlier today. You crawl under the covers next to his warm body and he slings an arm over your waist to pull you closer. 

“Good talk with Twos?” Mattias murmurs, his eyes closed and voice already drowsy. You hate how he can fall asleep so easily, but you love the scratchy quality his voice adopts late at night. It’s the best when his mouth is positioned right next to your ear and he’s telling you how tight you feel.

You have to shake the thought away. “Do you think Jack’s acting weird?” You ask, drawing an invisible line up his sternum, between his fleshy pecs that you love to poke until he flexes them and takes all his softness away.

Mattias snorts, laughing. “Of course he is,” he tells you. “He’s jealous.”

You lurch back, curling your lip and frowning up at Mattias. He blinks his eyes open to look down at you, mostly because of your movement and not because of what he said. He spoke like it was a known fact, that Jack was jealous.

“Of what?” You wonder.

“Of me, dude.” Mattias’ chest rumbles with the words and you tsk at the bro-y nickname. He continues on without acknowledging your distaste. “Jealous that I get to do this and he doesn’t.” He pushes your shirt up, cupping your breast and squeezing. 

“No, he’s not,” you deny. “He’s never acted like that. It can’t be jealousy.”

Mattias chuckles. “It can and it is,” he insists. “You wanna know how I know?”

You’re stunned for a second by the glint in his hooded eyes and the way his teeth are barely biting down on his lower lip. He raises his eyebrows when you don’t respond, just a quick quirk that draws your attention.

You shrug, letting your eyes drift back to his lips. Usually, by now, you’ve kissed them. It’s getting harder to resist, especially when Mattias leans forward until you’re going cross-eyed to get an actual look at him.

“The other day, I was going to get a towel from the bathroom to clean you up after–” he fully bites his lip and winks. “– and I overheard a little something from Jack’s room. It sounded… oddly like your name, so I asked him about it.”

“You did not.”

“And after some pressing, he told me that he’d had a little crush on you last semester, but you were soooo nice that he never found the right time to make a move.” Mattias’ voice is hushed and teasing, smug like he’s bragging over another win in their video games. “And then you found your way to me.”

It’s a lot to process, but Mattias is leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your lips. When he releases you and gets comfortable again, the cogs are still turning in your head. His eyes are closed when you speak.

“Possessive much?”

Mattias trembles with a laugh, pulling you closer and bringing your leg over his hip. “Don’t need to be possessive. He doesn’t stand a chance when I’m fucking you.”

“Maybe he does– maybe you need to learn how to share,” you say, your tone twisting with the implication. 

Mattias’ eyes flash open and his breath is no longer slow and consistent like it’s reaching for sleep. “What?”

“Maybe,” you repeat, touching your front teeth with the tip of your tongue for the added suspense. You cuddle into Mattias’ chest, your lips barely an inch from his, and continue. “You need to learn how to share.” You pull away and reveal your own smug, braggadocious smile, daring him.

Like you said– Jack had been your class crush first, way before you met Mattias. 

“Are you serious?” Mattias asks, incredulous. 

“Well, this is casual, isn’t it?” You tease. “It’s not like we’re exclusive. I’d love to see Jack’s face when I make a move on him if he’s so jealous of you, hm?”

Mattias frowns, about to say something, but you cut him off. 

You tilt your head coyly and bat your eyelashes at him. “Or… well, nevermind.” You turn over in his arms and press your hips back against his lap.

“Or… what?” Mattias probes, his fingertips dancing across your stomach and the waistband of your panties. “You started that sentence, now you have to finish it. Those are the rules.”

“If you can’t bear to share me with Jack, maybe you should join us,” you say, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. You’re faking the ease– the idea of having both Jack and Mattias in the same bed lights a fire between your legs unlike anything you’ve experienced before. “Make sure he’s doing it right…?”

You hoped that your words would set him off, knowing that despite his chill demeanor, Mattias is a perfectionist, a competitor, and a possessive partner. He’s bossy and dominant, positively eager to please and he loves to make sure that you’re feeling as content as possible in his bed. 

“You want… both of us?” Mattias asks. You can practically hear him narrowing his eyes as he speaks. “Really? Am I not good enough for you?” His question grows teasing at the end, which is how you know he’s considering it.

“You love to rag on him during games,” you drawl, wiggling your hips against him. Mattias releases a groan as you do so, rubbing his fingers over the skin just above your waistband. His other hand sneaks under your body and up your shirt. He tweaks your nipple as means of ‘teaching you a lesson’ for grinding against him, but it only increases your ministrations. “Imagine, Ti, how much fun you’d have, showing him how good you are at making me come.”

The praise always gets him– always. Today is no different. As you roll your behind against his length, you can feel him growing. So, you keep talking.

“At making me whimper, at making me beg…” You lick your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to see me squirm under him, even though I’m moaning your name?”

“Jesus, fuck,” Mattias groans, untangling his arms from your figure and rolling off the bed. You turn to face him, pulling the covers up to your chest and smiling from ear to ear. You can see the bulge in his pants now that your eyes are well-adjusted to the darkness. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, choking back a laugh. You’re delighted, but your stomach is rolling with the possibilities that the night holds. You know Mattias is going to get Jack, but you’re always a little bratty and sassy, so you can’t help yourself.

“Be right back,” Mattias promises before opening the bedroom door and slipping through it, disappearing down the hall and leaving you in the bed that smells like him. 

In the time he’s gone, you’re at war with yourself– do you take his shirt off and speed things along, playing with your tits to give them a show when they return, or do you leave Mattias’ shirt on and allow Jack to take it off of you?

You decide on a mixture of the two– you push your shirt up just enough that your stomach is exposed. You can get a hand on yourself and you knead one of your breasts, allowing your fingers to tease circles around your nipple but never pinching or twisting it the way Mattias does. 

You can hear him down the hall, rapping on Jack’s door and impatiently telling Jack to come to his bedroom. You can hear Jack, confused and frustrated that he has to get out of bed after getting comfortable. He follows Mattias’ directions– of course he does, he acts like Mattias hung the moon– and with each step closer to where you lay, you feel yourself growing damper and damper. 

Your legs are spread under the covers, just wide enough that Mattias could climb between them if he chose to do so. It’s the normal position you assume when he leaves you alone. There’s very little that Mattias likes more than seeing you ready for him, inviting him in with your stretched limbs. The edge of the sheet lays just over the expanse of your hips, leaving plenty to be revealed when the boys burst in.

Mattias, ever the gentleman, opens the door for Jack and holds it open for him.

“Why am I–” Jack starts to ask, but then his eyes lock on you. “Oh.” He gawks for a second, allowing himself to enjoy the view, then catches himself. “What– what?” When he repeats himself, he turns to face Mattias, and it makes the taller boy laugh.

“Come on, Twos,” Mattias persuades, stepping through the doorway and passing Jack, who is planted in one spot like he’s rooted in a stone. Mattias clambers onto the bed, uncoordinated because of his size but somehow graceful in the way he settles next to you. He places his hand on your abdomen, pinky and ring finger brushing over the little bow on the front of your panties. He traces it absent-mindedly, staring at the boy who’s surprised and backlit from the hall light. You wish you could see his face better, especially when Mattias continues. “Time to live up to your nickname.”

His words plant a spark inside of you, one that only grows as he dips his fingers even lower. He traces over the wet spot that’s growing between your legs. Jack watches on– you can see his eyes move although you can’t make out the look on his face, and his presence draws a noise out of you. Then, you find your words– even as Mattias makes it harder with more insistent presses.

“Mattias said you never knew when the right time was to make your move,” you announce. “Now’s the time, Jack.”

He’s still rooted there. He even turns toward the door for a second, looking out into the hall like you’re talking to some other Jack that snuck into the house and wanted a threesome.

If you weren’t so desperate, you’d laugh.

“You heard her,” Mattias reinforces, calling Jack’s attention back to the sight in front of him. “Look how wet she is, Jack. She’s wet because she was thinking of you– well, and me, and what we could do with her.”

He’s too proud to attribute your wetness completely to Jack. Whereas you won’t laugh at Jack’s hesitation, you do roll your eyes at Mattias, which is an action that earns you a pinch on your clit. It’s equally as jarring as it is pleasureful and you’re reeling.

Jack’s posture changes in a way that you can’t describe– it’s incredulous, maybe? A little bit like he’s not sure if he’s in a dream, where he’s not sure if he can move or if he’s being tormented by a complete inability to do anything but watch.

He still doesn’t make a move and it’s bothering you– you want to insist and call out his name to get his attention, to make sure he’s not in another realm entirely. You open your mouth, planning to sound sharp and pointed, and as you start to speak, Mattias pets his thumb over your clit. Your glare becomes relaxed and your indignant “Jack” transforms into a wanton-sounding moan of his name.

It’s the complete opposite of what you described to Mattias earlier, but he doesn’t seem to care. Or maybe he’s letting it slide just this once, just because it serves its purpose all too well.

Jack finally takes a step forward. He lifts his foot and tugs at his sock, throwing it across the room, then doing the same with the other. He kicks the door closed behind him, putting you back into darkness and you pray for your eyes to adjust to the change faster. You want to see him. You need to know how his eyes look when he’s inches away from something he hoped for, but never quite received. 

You want to see desperation on his face because you want to know that he feels the same way you do. With Mattias, you seldom see desperation. He’s all half-lidded eyes and gravelly words whispered as a means of caressing you further, overwhelming your senses in every way he can. You’re the one pulling at his clothes or scratching over his back, pleading for more. 

Lucky for you, once Jack makes it to the edge of the bed, he can’t seem to keep his hands away from you. His fingers circle your ankle over the covers, his other hand pulling his shorts down until he’s just left in his underwear. At that point, he starts to shuffle his way up your body, walking on his knees. He’s straddling you, legs on either side of yours, palms sliding across your thighs, then hips, then waist. 

You finally can see the look on his face. He’s memorizing you in a reverent way, like he can’t believe you’re real and he’s getting to touch you. His eyes search your skin for details that he can file away for later, his thumb brushing over a freckle that you had forgotten about as the breath leaves his lungs. He melts above you, the corners of his lips turning up in a giddy smile. He laughs for a moment to himself, barely expelling any air or sound when he does so. Then, his eyes finally meet yours. 

His pupils are swollen, bigger than you’ve ever seen them. You hold eye contact for only a moment before Jack’s gaze drifts to your lips, where they stay. Once again, he hesitates. Your own eyes find his lips, plush and parted, glistening like he just licked them. You’re certainly not going to make another first move, having already moaned out Jack’s name without him even touching you– it’s his turn, you stubbornly decide.

But Jack is stubborn too, or maybe just that unsure of himself, because his hands are still the only point of contact between your bodies after what feels like an eternity.

Even Mattias tires of waiting. “For fuck’s sake,” Mattias scoffs. He rolls his eyes and takes his hand away from your panties, touching your chin and turning your head towards his. He kisses you instead of Jack, stealing your lips from the other boy because he can’t be bothered to let them remain untouched. He’s kissed you many times before, so his lips are sure against your own, his confidence making you sigh out and close your eyes. 

You touch Mattias’ cheek with your fingertips, one hand still kneading your breast. As the feeling and sound of the kiss overwhelm your senses, Jack’s hands find your stomach. They run up to your ribs, then he nudges your hand aside. You don’t quite get it, lost in the way Mattias’ tongue feels against yours, so Jack covers your hand with his own. He traces the lines of your fingers with his, then settles his digits between the spaces of yours. With his other hand, he has free reign. He’s able to ghost over the smooth skin surrounding your pebbled nipple before touching the protrusion with a gentle flick of his index finger. You chase the motion, breaking away from Mattias’ mouth to look at the place where Jack’s hands lay.

He has exposed your chest now, pushed Mattias’ shirt up so far that it’s bunched up near your collarbones. He’s staring at your breasts like they’re the best thing he’s ever seen, like he’s never seen anything like them before and never will again. He takes your wrist and moves your hand so that it covers your belly button, sufficiently out of the way. 

Mattias is still crowding your face with light kisses on your cheek and jaw, index finger tapping at the other side of your chin to call your lips back to his, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Jack’s hands and his mouth as it comes lower, sealing over the peak from which he just removed your fingers. His tongue flicks against the nipple the same way that his finger moves on your opposite side, creating competing sensations that work better together than they ever would apart. 

Jack’s movements have you arching into him, your back leaving the bed enough for Mattias’ arm to weasel under you and tug you closer. He’s abandoned your chin, evidently giving up on getting your attention from his simple nudges. 

Your usual partner is getting greedy and it shows– he’s petting over your core again with his long, delectable fingers. He shifts the crotch of your panties to the side just a bit, just enough that he can collect a bit of your slick on his middle two fingers. He returns his hand to your face, touching your lips with the wetness before you drop your jaw and he presses down on your tongue. 

You suck his fingers greedily, knowing that this is just the first step to having him inside of you. You look to him for a moment, taking in the smile that barely clings to his face. He’s proud of you, praising you with just the glint in his eyes. It’s enough for you in that moment, so you look away– making the mistake of looking down at Jack.

His eyes are wide and piercing, staring up at you as he sucks on your tits. You release a soft moan, spurring him on. He pulls off of you and blows cool air against the wet patch of skin gracing your nipple, making it grow impossibly harder. You shudder as he switches to your other side. He focuses all his attention on drawing another noise out of you, hair falling over his forehead and tickling the skin of your chest where it lays. His eyes are closed, but his hair blocks your view. 

Mattias seems to notice the same thing, pulling his fingers from your mouth and threading them through the strands dangling in front of Jack’s forehead to move them out of the way. He grips the hair tightly before he lets go, making Jack’s eyes open and look to him. A beat passes between the men, a look that makes you feel like, for a moment, you cease to exist underneath or beside them.

Then, Jack’s eyes flutter closed again and Mattias’ hand falls. He finds the waistband of your underwear, now soaked to the point that you’re sure they’re clinging to your folds. From this angle, with Jack on top of you, Mattias can’t get a good grip on the band to push the fabric down. You can feel his face contort with his thoughts and Jack is none the wiser, just enjoying his time attached to your nipples. 

Mattias taps his shoulder, brows furrowed like he knows what he wants but he’s not sure if he’s overstepping. Jack’s eyes open and find the other man again, completely neutral. There’s an edge of expectancy in his movements with the way his tongue pauses its movements as he stares up at Mattias.

For someone so sure of himself in bed, Mattias sounds apprehensive when he speaks. He’s so used to ordering you around, bossing you because he knows that you’ll do whatever he asks, but Jack is new territory. 

“If you like how her nipples taste, you should get your mouth on her cunt,” Mattias seems to suggest, even though you know that he’s not asking Jack to do so. He’s telling him to eat you out, to take your panties off and start to pleasure you.

Ripping a whine from you as he goes, Jack drops your nipple from his mouth and wipes along his bottom lip to break the line of spit connecting you. “You’d let me?” He asks, open-mouthed and breathing like he’s recovering from a run. His eyes are trained on Mattias and a thrill runs up your spine as soon as you realize that he’s asking the other boy for permission. You and Jack are more alike than you knew before.

It seems to click in the same moment for Mattias, who you’ve turned to face. His expression grows grave, even though he’s starting to smirk. “Yeah, I’d let you,” he says.

Jack’s fingers leave your torso and dig under the sides of your underwear, ready to tear them off of you with the fervor of a depraved man. 

“But you have to beg,” Mattias adds, just before Jack can drag the fabric low enough to reveal your clit. The words rush out of him and Jack halts. 

“Beg?” He asks. 

Mattias lets out a little scoff. Your eyes bounce between them, back and forth as they bicker like you’re down in the kitchen making dinner and Jack wants chicken but Mattias wants steak. It’s perfect how easily you three fall into your roles, how simple it is to let your normal behavior leak into your bedroom.

“Yeah, beg,” Mattias affirms. He tilts his head to the side and mocks Jack, sticking his bottom lip out. “Come on, Twosey. You’re such a whiny bitch all the time, why should now be any different? You need to prove to us that you want it.”

“I want it,” Jack insists, pulling back with a knitted, offended brow. “You know I want it.”

“Oh, I know you want it,” Mattias says. “But she only just found out and I think you need to tell her how much you’re dying to be with her.” 

As if he needs to remind Jack that you’re there, Mattias shifts on the bed so that you’re on display. His arm, which had been trapped under your waist once Jack’s mouth left your chest and you stopped arching into the smaller boy, pushes you up until you’re sitting. Mattias then sits behind you, his back against the headboard and your back against his bare, warm chest. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder comfortably, your temple meeting his cheek in this motion.

His cock, neglected for minutes upon minutes is achingly hard against your tailbone. You press back even further so the contact is snug– so that Mattias can have a little relief. No ulterior motive… despite the fact that you love to feel him straining against you.

Jack is still straddling your legs, your knees underneath him. He’s hovering above them and you can’t spread your legs to draw him in, a fact that leaves you frowning and humming to yourself. It makes his eyebrows quirk and causes Mattias to splay his hand over your stomach again, rubbing a soft circle on the skin and cooing in your ear. 

“Don’t be impatient, baby, he’s still learning,” Mattias says, letting his eyes float back to Jack at the end of his sentence. You know the look that he’s giving Jack, even without seeing it: an impatient cut of the eyes, one raised eyebrow as if it’s a challenge, and he’s pressing his tongue against his teeth to signal that it’s time for Jack to relent or Mattias will have to do something about it himself. “It’s time, Quinn.”

Using his last name– things are getting serious. 

Mattias pulls your shirt up, dragging it over your head. The loss of it means a few things– one, that Mattias’ scent is no longer covering you completely. He’s behind you, pressing against you, and you can smell him, but it’s not the same. Two, that you’re naked except for your sopping panties and Jack can see almost everything. 

“I wanted him to do that,” you whine, pouting at Mattias. Your head is resting on his shoulder again, farther away this time so that you can look up at him from the side. You’ve got a great view of his nose and the curve of his lips, the curve that only tilts up more as he turns to face you. 

Mattias presses a kiss to the corner of your pout and speaks like Jack isn’t there, like he’s not hovering inches from where you want him to be. “He hasn’t earned it, has he?”

The question is rhetorical and it spurs Jack into action. He pulls your panties down and slides off the bed so that he can remove them completely from your body. He holds them between his fingers like they’re a sacred object for which he should use gloves, standing at the edge of the bed. One of his knees rests on the mattress and you get an eyeful of his erection, covered by his underwear, but prominent nonetheless. Having seen it, and having been freed, you’re ready to kick your legs apart and beg him to come back.

Mattias, however, brackets your legs instead and uses his strong thighs to keep yours shut. You make an indignant groan, frowning at the man with a sharp look and he pinches your nipple, tweaking it slightly to put you in your place. You’re his, after all. Jack is just visiting. You’re only a slut for Mattias– Jack has to earn it. 

“Go put those and her shirt in the laundry bin in my closet,” Mattias instructs. “Then, Jack, I believe you have some begging to do.”

The boy stands, lost and torn between wanting to preserve his dignity by fighting back against Mattias and wanting to succumb to his dominant commands so that he can get his mouth on you more quickly.

Mattias allows him to think it over for only a moment. “Go on,” he prods, encouraging the boy with a nod.

Jack takes a tentative step toward the closet, then another. He's just far enough away when Mattias returns to you. 

He loosens his grip on your legs just slightly, enough that he can dip his hand into the space between your legs and offer you some much needed reprieve. “Look how well he listens with a little nudge,” Mattias murmurs before kissing your temple. “Now you have to be good for me, yeah? When he comes back, don't let him take your pussy so easily. Make him work for it. He’ll like that.”

“How do you know?” You question, looking up at him. 

Mattias shrugs, jostling your head with the movement. He skims your entrance with the pad of one of his thick fingers, teasing you. “I just know,” he replies. He pushes his fingertip inside of you, starting to work it in and out but not opening you up– that privilege is something he’s awarding to Jack. “Just like how I know you.”

“Took you a while to get to know me,” you shoot back.

Across the room, Jack is looking in Mattias’ closet and trying to find his hamper. It’s in the back corner, hidden by some of his longer pants, so you’re not surprised that Jack is having trouble. It allows time for Mattias to focus on you, like a normal night, and you like that you get to have a moment alone with him. At the same time, it feels almost unfair that Jack is so far away.

Mattias chuckles at your attitude, his finger curling deep inside of you. You can feel the digit deftly rubbing against your insides, making you squirm. Mattias stills you by bringing his other hand up your body and lightly circling the base of your throat, squeezing it just slightly. “Know how much you like this,” Mattias tells you, whispering in your ear in a way that has goosebumps rising along your neck. “Didn’t take me too long to figure that out.”

Your eyes are forward, so you catch the moment that Jack finally turns around, having completed his task, and catches sight of Mattias’ hand around your throat and fingers between your legs. His mouth opens and his eyes widen, cheeks blushing into a flaming red. 

“Good, Jack, c’mere,” Mattias says after a moment, finally lifting his eyes once he notices your distant stare. “Come lay down.”

Jack comes much easier this time, approaching the bed looking befuddled but eager. Mattias continues to pump his finger inside of you, although his hand drops from your throat. It finds your inner thigh and he spreads your legs for you, creating a space for Jack to lay. With one final parting thrust of his finger, Mattias pulls away and spreads your other leg even wider. 

You’re fully on display now, folds parted from when Mattias spread them for his own greedy finger. You’re pristinely wet, barely needing Jack’s spit to mix with your own slick. Either of them could slide into you, fill you, without trouble. You almost want Jack to bypass Mattias’ plan and fuck you now, but there’s something about the way that Jack follows Mattias’ orders that makes you want to see how far things can go.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” Mattias goads, as if Jack’s eyes aren’t locked on your vagina already. “You’re so close to tasting it, Jack. All you have to do is convince her that you deserve it.”

Jack’s eyes snap to your face and you can tell that his desire has won out. He has no problem opening his mouth and starting to beg.

“Please,” he pleads. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

He’s dead-set on you now, crawling between your legs and tentatively touching your thigh. His hair is still messy, but it’s charming and out of his face and you kind of like that he’s a mess over how badly he wants to be with you. 

“Tell me,” you reply, which earns you a hum of approval from Mattias and a soft pat to your hip. It’s not anything like his pointed spanks and swats, but you treasure it nonetheless. “Tell me what you’ve thought about.”

“It was like torture, having to listen to you down the hall. You sounded so pretty and I wanted to know what Sammy was doing to you to make you so loud. I wanted– I wanted to see,” Jack admits, losing his footing at the end of his sentence. His eyes flicker to Mattias’, then back to your face. “I never thought–”

“Now that you’re here, what are you going to do?” Mattias asks, interrupting the boy. “Tell her what you want to do to her. Tell her the things that you fucked your fist to, Twos.”

“This,” Jack groans, his eyes dropping to your core before coming back to your face. “Every time you moaned for him, I wondered if he was eating you out.”

Truth be told, eating you out wasn’t Mattias’ favorite thing to do. It came with the territory of his dominance– he much preferred to receive than to give, but it was never out of the realm of possibility. It was just a special treat, like when you looked especially beautiful one day or you had done something worth rewarding.

But hearing that it was the first thing on Jack’s mind whenever he overheard you– that has you running through endless scenarios and positions in your mind. With both of them, you’d be able to have everything, sometimes all at once.

Jack talks on. “Know you’d taste so good– wanted to taste you for myself. Practically came in my pants the first time I imagined you sitting on my face, Y/N. Being surrounded by you like that, having your thighs pressed over my ears because it was so good that you couldn’t help it… fuck, I need it. Please, I need it.”

“Not today,” Mattias says before you can nod. “Today, you have to do the work, buddy.”

Jack nods at that anyway, eyes gleaming and wild. “Anything– I just want a taste.”

Mattias nudges you, tapping your cheek with his nose. “Well?” He asks. “Can Jack have a taste?”

“Yeah,” you agree, eager and willing but unable to form any other words.

Like a stopwatch just began and Jack is finally on the clock, he jumps in. He’s laying flat on the bed between your legs, fingers already prodding at your hole while Mattias holds your legs apart for him. 

Mattias is kissing over your neck, sucking over the pulse point on your left side when Jack’s lips close around your clit and mirror the sensation.

You’re not sure who to press into, who to arch against– you’re at war with your own mind and the sensations overtaking you, the ones overtaking you and controlling your movements like a puppeteer tied strings to your body.

Jack has his first two fingers inside of you, thrusting forward quickly like he can’t help himself. Mattias prefers to savor the moment when he’s fingering you, teasing you until you’re grinding against his digits and disobeying his orders to stay still because it’s just that good. While Mattias delays your orgasms in order to make the ultimate one more intense, Jack seems like he wants to bully your erogenous zones until you’re coming, and coming, and coming again. He wants you to come fast and he wants it often. 

It’s a mindfuck, leaving you shaking underneath him as he flicks his tongue against your clit like a doorstopper pulled all the way to one side then released, vibrating back and forth like a metronome set to a rapid pace. You feel like you’re in a scene in a movie where you’re falling down a black hole and all you can hear is the pounding of your heart, growing more and more rapid. 

Breaking the spiral is Mattias’ voice.

“No, Jack,” he says with a frown. One of his hands leaves your tits, the cool air hitting your sensitive nipples like a flinch. He grabs Jack’s hair, grips it so tightly that his knuckles seem to turn white– or maybe you’re just imagining things in your lustful haze– and he drags the boy’s mouth to a stop. “Slower. Don’t waste your only chance.”

You blink, clearing your clouded eyes to protest the “only chance” thing, but you lose your breath when you catch sight of the way Jack’s mouth hangs open with each tug of Mattias’ hand. Mattias practically shoves Jack’s face against your cunt, his tongue sliding over your folds and entrance like he’s lost control of the muscle. You wonder for a second if he’s hurting, but then Jack moans as Mattias positions his mouth over your clit and he latches on like the bud is the tip of a straw and he’s dying of thirst. 

His eyes flutter, as do yours, and you know Mattias is grinning. Jack is like putty in his hands, moving wherever Mattias wants him to go. You’re suddenly aware that your hands are at your sides lamely, doing nothing at all, and you reach for Jack’s hair too like a natural instinct. 

“Ah,” Mattias reprimands, dropping his grasp on your other tit and catching your wrists. “No touching, baby. Just sit back and relax and take what we’re giving you.” He holds both your wrists securely in his hands, keeping them still against your ribcage. He’s still pulling Jack’s hair, grinding his face against your slit, and it’s really Jack’s willingness to move wherever Mattias wants him that has you moaning.

It’s impossible not to grind against Jack’s face, though Mattias makes it hard for you to take charge of your own pleasure.

Nonetheless, you persist. The sounds that emit from Jack spur you on. They’re messy and pornographic, all kinds of sucking and groaning and slurping that would normally turn you off, but his desperation drives you crazy.

It doesn’t take long for you to reach that point, jaw dropping at the penultimate moment. Your head tips back on Mattias’ shoulder, eyes seeking his and finding them already fixed on your face, monitoring you.

“Gonna come,” you choke out, staring at the boy. “Ti–”

“You can,” he says. “He’s been waiting for you to come all over his tongue for months. Go ahead and give him his reward for being so patient, yeah?”

You feel shaky and spent as your first orgasm washes over you, noting in a passing moment that there’s so much more in store for you. There’s at least two or three more coming because Mattias seems to have endless faith in you and infinite ideas, able to do much more now that he has a partner to assist him in his ministrations.

Rather, he has someone else to boss around.

You collapse against Mattias’ strong chest, heaving out heavy breaths as Jack laps up your cum like it’s the best delicacy in the world. He’s languid, conscious of your recovery, and Mattias loosens his grip on the boy’s hair to soothe you as you come down. He pulls your hair out of your face, twisting the strands between his fingers. He speaks softly into your ear, murmuring things that you can’t really decipher because of the force of your climax, but his soothing tone calms you nonetheless.

Once your breath is steady, Mattias beckons Jack up from his place on the bed. 

“Think you’ve earned a kiss,” Mattias says to Jack with a small shrug. He taps your shoulder with his thumb. “What do you say? Wanna give Twos a little kiss for all his hard work?”

You’re nodding, eyes lidded. Jack’s face is flushed and his lips are covered in clear, liquidy mess that drips down onto his chin. He’s absolutely gorgeous and you just want to pull him in and snuggle him forever, putting him in your pocket and carrying him around so that you don’t have to part with him. 

He’s got that stupid look on his face still, but it’s different this time, like he’s growing cloudy in the head because he’s drunk off of the taste of your pussy and Mattias’ direction. He doesn’t hesitate anymore, but he moves slowly, as if time is passing differently for him.

Your first kiss with Jack is sweet, a joining of lips where you place a hand on Jack’s cheek and feel him underneath your palm. He’s hot and a little sweaty from the heat of the moment. The room is stifling with the smell of your arousal, but it could just be like that because you can taste yourself on Jack’s skin. You’re drinking him in all the same, keeping him close even as your lips part for a breath and come back together.

Mattias grinds his clothed cock against your backside while Jack kisses you, making you part from the smaller boy with a small gasp. Mattias turns your head to his, capturing your tingling lips in a more heated exchange, making all of your neurons fire in the best way. He slides his tongue into your mouth, then pulls back, leaving you boneless against him. 

You watch as Mattias and Jack look at each other for a moment too long. Mattias lets his signature smile overtake his face, then he winks at the smaller boy. Jack turns red and looks away.

The hard length against your tailbone catches your attention. You grind back against him, capturing Mattias’ attention.

“Aww, baby,” Mattias mutters softly. “Did you think I was feeling left out?”

“Can feel how hard you are,” you reply. “Wanna make you come.”

“You wanna make me come,” Mattias repeats, lips quirked. “How about I give you something to occupy your mouth with, huh?”

You’re nodding, already shifting on his lap to turn your back to Jack and bend down to mouth over Mattias’ boxers. His big paw covers your hair, bundling your locks on the back of your head in a messy knot. 

“So needy,” he berates, sounding like he’s scolding you although you know he’s pleased. “Can’t even give me time to take my pants off?”

Your knees are bent underneath you, spread wide enough that you can rock forwards and backwards easily. You’re conscious of Jack behind you, especially when you look up at Mattias and find that he’s staring past you.

“You can touch her,” Mattias says to the other boy. “Look how she’s presented right in front of you. Touch her, Jack. Give her another one.”

You’re still mouthing over Mattias’ clothed cock, sucking at the tip through the fabric and soaking it with your spit. He’s guiding you with his hand, pushing you lower until you’re licking over the curve of his balls, your nose tucked into the space where his thigh meets his groin. It should feel humiliating, to be forced to stay here and bring him pleasure, but you’re still reeling from the high of your orgasm and you’re unabashed knowing that your only audience is Mattias– who is a nonissue given how many times he’s fucked your face– and Jack, who is currently tracing his tongue over your slit from behind.

“Okay,” Mattias relents, patting the top of your head until you pull away. He draws his boxers down his legs and you moan, sagging back down when Jack’s finger finds your hole and starts to press into you again. 

He’s bare beneath you now, the only scrap of clothing shared between the three of you being Jack’s boxers. It’s another reason why he’s the third wheel, the odd one out, even though you’d rather die than have him feel that way. You hope that he’s not thinking that, that he’s too preoccupied with your pussy and how the wetness drips down his wrist to wonder about the dynamic of this relationship.

“Twos,” Mattias calls, earning a hum from the other boy. Mattias occupies you with his cock, bringing your mouth to his tip and fitting your lips over it. You’re lax beneath him, allowing him to move your head up and down for his own pleasure. You let him use you as a toy, almost, unwilling to draw attention to yourself when Mattias is speaking with Jack. 

“What?” Jack asks, his tone not as respectful as you’re accustomed to speaking with when it comes to Mattias. You make a noise of discontent around Mattias’ cock at Jack’s question, but Mattias pets over your cheek to quiet you.

“If you make her come before I do, I’ll let you fuck her,” Mattias says. “But you ought to know– she’s good with her mouth.”

As soon as he finishes his sentence, he sets off, fisting your hair and using it like reins to guide your bobbing. He tilts his hips forward even as he lifts and lowers your head, battering and abusing the back of your throat once he thrusts deep enough. 

Jack has pushed a second finger into your heat, pushing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. He’s desperate to make you come a second time, to drag another climax from your writhing body, just so that he can get some release on his cock. You know that it’s aching, that he’s pulsing in his shorts and dripping everywhere, so turned on that he can only just stave off his own orgasm.

His fingers flex inside of you, curling and plunging inside of you with emphatic zeal. Mattias fills you from the front, your spit pooling around the base of his cock. He shoves you down, making you gag around him, your throat constricting in a satisfactory way around his thick shaft. He shakes your head, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his pubic bone as you deepthroat him. 

“You close?” Mattias asks, pointedly looking down at you. He waits until you meet his eyes to draw out and thrust into your mouth again, harsh and delectable. A batch of tears start to appear on your waterline from the effort and they spill over as you stare up at Mattias, his glowering eyes locked on the way you’re dripping around him. If it’s not your spit leaking from your mouth, it’s the drops leaking from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks– and Mattias finds it impossible not to fuck into you harder seeing both of your reactions to his dick. 

You hum around him, trying to nod to answer him, but the hand on the back of your head will not allow it. The added vibrations on his dick have him chasing the pleasure.

“Keep doing that,” Mattias groans. “Let me feel you moan, baby.”

The floodgates open, Mattias’ permission and Jack’s talented fingers pulling noise after noise from your body. You grip Jack’s fingers, rolling your hips as best you can while struggling to fit Mattias’ length in your mouth. You’re gagging as you breathe, which leaves your noises choked and beautiful when they fall on Mattias’ ears.

You’re just about to come, just about to wash Jack’s fingers with your slick, when Mattias’ seed spills down the back of your throat and all your focus shifts to lapping it up and swallowing it. Irrationally, you can feel his hot cum sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach, filling you up in your second-favorite way.

“Pull out,” Mattias commands, grinding his teeth as you continue to worship his cock. You ignore him because you know his words aren’t directed at you. “Jack. Pull out. You lost.”

“I want to make her come,” Jack insists, talking back to Mattias in a tone that has you writhing with discomfort. 

“Pull out,” Mattias repeats, voice dark. “Or you’re never touching her again.”

Jack stills inside you.

“I mean it,” Mattias continues. “Pull out or I will make sure that you never touch her again.”

Jack draws his fingers out, speechless as Mattias monitors his movements. You watch as Mattias nods, the only sign of his approval, expression stony. He draws you up, kissing your forehead with his eyes still fixed on Jack’s. It’s a fuck you, once again flaunting his dominance over Jack. Mattias makes his way out from behind you, standing from the bed and grabbing you by your ankles to tug you to the edge of the bed. 

He bends you over, glowering at the smaller boy who is watching his every move. He pushes your face into the mattress roughly, then releases you. You clench at the bedsheets. Mattias kicks your legs apart, dropping a loud slap onto the globes of your ass as he glares at Jack. 

Then, he points to the headboard, far away from where you lay. You can just barely see his finger when you look up, eyes straining to catch him in your peripheral vision. “You, there,” Mattias orders. To you, he says, “You. Stay.”

You wouldn’t even dare disobey him as his warmth leaves the area behind you. Your skin still stings from his spank, your legs a little shaky from being so close to orgasm and having it ripped away. You feel like you could set off at any moment, only seconds from bursting. 

You can hear Mattias moving, opening his closet and rifling through something. A thrill shoots up your spine, praying that he’s searching for what you think he’s searching for– a shoebox filled with condoms, ones that you stopped using ages ago, and your spare vibrator that Mattias took as his own.

It won’t be the first time he’s used it on you, but the fact that Jack will be watching– oh, this will be quick. 

Mattias returns, silently, and you feel a bit like prey drinking from a watering hole with a lion stalking you. His hand finds you, smoothing over your skin. The other holds the silicon toy against your skin, tapping you. He slides his fingers down to dip into your cunt, testing how open you are. He hums and you can’t see him, but you can see Jack. 

You can see how Jack pales, how his dick twitches in his underwear when Mattias draws his fingers out and hums as he slurps at the slick gathered on his digits.

“Mm,” Mattias says. “So sweet.”

Jack rolls his head to the side with a slight frown on his face, pleading with his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mattias chastises. “Take your punishment like a good boy.”

That makes you moan, hearing Mattias speak to Jack the same way that he speaks to you. It makes him chuckle and tap your hip. You lift up, baring yourself, and Mattias fills you with the toy before he turns it on. It buzzes to life and prompts a quiet yelp before you bury your face into the mattress. 

Mattias places his hand on the edge of the toy and starts to move it inside of you. The vibrating tip buzzes in increments inside of you, out of time with Mattias’ manual thrusts in another sensation that has you unsure if you should lean into it or try to escape it. The small ridge that slides over your clit buzzes constantly– inclining you to lean into the toy. 

Your hips rise and fall in wonky little circles, trying to meet Mattias’ movements as they go, but you’re always half a second behind. 

“Ti,” You plead, begging for more contact. 

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes flicker between your hole and Jack’s frozen expression. He licks his lips as the bright toy disappears into you as you writhe. He tilts his head when he catches Jack’s hand palming his own cock.

Mattias considers it, then speaks. “Wanna hear me talk Twosey off, baby?” He asks you. “Will that get you far enough?”

“Ti,” you repeat, shaking underneath him. Your voice breaks a little as your body jerks.

“One more, Y/N,” Mattias encourages, his hand pumping between your legs consistently. “One more, he repeats, drawing the word out like the words can draw the orgasm out of you on their own. “Need you to give me something pretty for Jack to look at while he milks himself dry.”

Mattias smiles at the boy, devilish. Jack gulps, swallowing hard. 

“Let me see it,” Mattias urges. “Show me how hard my girl makes you. Show me how bad you wanted this, even though it’s mine.”

You cry out under Mattias, stomping against the ground. You need him to stop talking like this because you swear you could die right in this moment. 

Jack feels similarly, whimpering and inching his underpants down his thighs. He’s got a hand on his cock, squeezing the base to hold off. He can’t seem to decide where to look– at you or at Mattias– at the way Mattias’ hands flex when he pushes the toy into you or at the way your eyes gaze at Jack with pure admiration.

“Maybe give my girl something pretty to look at, Jack,” Mattias suggests. “Maybe that’s what’ll send her over the edge.”

“Fuck–” Jack curses, his head falling back when he slides his thumb over his tip.

The dynamic seems to fit into place immediately. Whereas Jack assumed it would be like a love triangle, with him and Mattias vying for your attention, he realizes now that you’re all vying for each others’ attention. 

He looks at Mattias, Mattias looks at you, and you look at Jack. It reverses and turns on its head and pulses like a 3D movie without glasses. He’s so overwhelmed that he feels like he’s seeing shapes as he comes all over his hand, unable to handle the stimulation.

Mattias chuckles, proud of himself, and refocuses on your body and the toy inside you. He switches to the next setting, a quick and never ending buzz inside of you. You fuck back on the toy desperately, finally catching his rhythm. You can’t take any more denial and you stammer out a high-pitched warning to Mattias. 

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder.

You come, hard. Your vision goes white and starry with the orgasm.

Mattias walks you through it, murmuring softly as he grounds you with his sweet kisses on your skin. “Go get a towel, Jack,” Mattias mutters, reaching up to pat the boy’s ankle in a sign of invitation. “Come help me clean her up. Then we can go to bed, and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“We– we don’t have to talk about it,” Jack stammers, afraid of what that means. He can’t risk not being invited back into this bed now that he’s had a taste. 

“Don’t worry.” Mattias reaches over and squeezes Jack’s cheeks between his fingers, giving his head a little shake. “We’re going to do this again, Twos. You did really good.”

Jack lets out a sigh of relief and goes to grab a towel from down the hall, leaving you and Mattias alone. 

He kisses your eyelids, which are drifting closed as you come back completely. “So good, Ti,” you echo. “Perfect.”

Mattias chuckles, kissing your lips sweetly. “Anything for my girl.”

notes: first threesome in the books! also it's my sister's bday. hi sister. i hope she never reads this. also also: stg chapter 6 will be my next release (hopefully!) so i'll see y'all then <3

[film-in-my-soul]

Sweet Enough to Eat | 3,160 | Fortheloveofexy / @fortheloveofexy

Summary: Neil is cute and Andrew has a crisis. That's it, thats the fic.

A different kind of attack | 3,351 | amidsthechaos

Summary: Neil teaches a secret self-defense class and Andrew shows up one day, never expecting to learn a thing and much less feel a thing.

Falling | 3,517 | Fortheloveofexy / @fortheloveofexy

Summary: He'd known all along that Andrew didn't care about him. It was part of the allure, what made Andrew a safe choice to experiment with. Andrew's apathy would protect him from getting hurt, and Neil's own feelings were little more than an afterthought. He wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of getting attached once he was dead, after all. Except, here he is. Not dead, and thoroughly, undeniably attached. He needs to tell Andrew. 

head case (what to do with you) | 4,007 | Major_816

Summary: It bolsters him now. Because Andrew’s in the hospital and this medical fuck with an incompetency problem won’t let Neil in to see him. Andrew gets hurt and Neil...handles it.

(see more recommendations below!)

One Hundred | 4,553 | TheRainbowElectric / @agreatperhaps12

Summary: The most shocking thing about the sight of Neil is how still he is. Andrew has seen Neil bloodied and bruised before. But even beaten to a pulp and beyond exhausted, Neil talks and twitches and kicks in his sleep, restless fucker. Now, Neil’s only signs of life are the shallow rise and fall of his chest and the steady beep of the heart monitor beside his bed. That’s all Andrew has to hold onto as he drags a chair from beside the window to the gap between Neil’s bed and the door and sits down.

lucid prayers | 4,914 | andreil

Summary: Neil makes it out of Baltimore alive. Unfortunately, so does his father.

backstage (the world is yours) | 5,011 | Major_816

Summary: The best part about the light room is that it’s dark. Andrew likes it that way. It’s also far the fuck away from the bullshit of the actual stage. It doesn’t hurt that the only person with a direct line to him—ignoring the times when Aaron actually shows up to run sound or when Jean’s done haunting the second stage where the seniors are rehearsing—is Neil.  It’s always Neil, isn’t it?

Blood Spilled (But None Wasted) | 19,531 | Detective4

Summary: Neil licked his lips and Andrew’s gaze tracked the movement with the efficiency of a predator. Neil glanced at the fangs again, then down to his bare forearm, then to the fuzzy carpet that laid under the coffee table. “Neil,” Andrew’s voice was firm, demanding complete attention. Neil met his eyes once again, encapsulated, “You can say no.” Neil shook his head lightly. Took a deep breath. “I want to,” And he was surprised that he wasn’t lying.

Follow You Through The Dark | 22,461 | sambutwithbooks

Summary: “Don’t say no-” “No.” “Andrew-” Aaron shakes the paper a little in frustration before composing himself. “It’s a quiz bowl. Basic trivia. It runs for five consecutive weekends and there’s a prize at the end. I need you and your sponge brain to help me win.” His brother has asked him for many things since Bee had pulled Andrew aside to tell him he had a doppelganger wandering around San Jose, California causing trouble but this might be the dumbest thing Aaron has ever asked him to do.

that one flower shop au by moody_lesbian

2 Part Series | Rated G | Total Words: 2,794

Part 1 Summary: “I brought you this.” Andrew continued to stare at him for another moment until his eyes slid from Neil’s and to the slightly crushed daisy in Neil’s hand. “What is it?” Nervously, Neil itched to take his hand back. “A promise.”

the foxhole - coffee shop au by jaylocked

2 Part Series | Rated T | Total Words: 7,003

Part 1 Summary: Neil collects the cup a moment later, almost absently, as he thinks back to the nightmare that had started his day. He takes a sip, planning to turn away, and is almost assaulted by the sheer quantity of sugar in his drink. Who knew coffee could taste that sweet? It’s disgusting. Neil looks back to Andrew, who is once more leveling a blank gaze at him, hazel eyes deeply unimpressed. Neil quirks an eyebrow, confused. It’s definitely not worth it to say anything. After all, it’s been engrained in him not to draw attention to himself, to order whatever is blandest and least interesting, to get in and out best he can. He can feel the weight of Andrew’s gaze on his back as he leaves the cafe, but he tries to ignore it.

Excerpts From The Rooftop by loveandwarandmagick

2 Part Series | Unrated + Rated G | Total Words: 9,012

Part 1 Summary: Andrew is an English major coming down from his drugs, spending his nights on the rooftop while everyone's asleep. What he suspected was a hallucination, a side-effect, follows him up there, and doesn't disappear even after he gets sober. This is troubling. It's even more troubling that Neil wants to listen to him. The worst part is probably that Andrew finds himself wanting - the truth, to give his own, to see if Neil wants more than that. Or, the non-mafia au where the only impending doom is the height of the roof, and the fact that talking to Neil makes him feel like he's standing at the edge of the drop.

no love without teeth by moonsock

2 Part Series | Rated M+E | Total Words: 9,508

Part 1 Summary: Neil’s legs kick a little faster. “What better way to avoid being outed as a vampire than to join a vampire slaying agency?” Andrew actually stops chewing at that. “You get stupider every day.”

New Tricks by likearecord

2 Part Series | Rated T & M | Total Words: 27,784

Part 1 Summary: Kevin, Neil, and Allison are grad students, roommates, and obviously best friends. One fortuitous day, Kevin meets a short, knife-wielding blond guy in the library and brings him home to meet the short, knife-wielding redhead he lives with. If only Neil knew what having a crush felt like before this happened.

High School Science by fuzzballsheltiepants / @fuzzballsheltiepants

4 Part Series | Rated T+E | Total Words: 29,926

Part 1 Summary: Andrew's unfairly hot chemistry lab partner needs a date for the prom to appease his uncle. Andrew agrees...for a fee.

Inside Your Mind by moonix / @annawrites

2 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 42,414

Part 1 Summary: Andrew and Neil switching phones by accident brings them closer together than either of them anticipated.

TFC High School AU by moonix / @annawrites

4 Part Series | Rated T + M | Total Words: 50,786

Part 1 Summary: After his mother's death Neil Josten just needs to keep his head down until graduation, then he's going to leave this town and identity behind like all the others and start over somewhere new. There's a small hitch in his plans though: his deal to protect Andrew from bullies in exchange for some quiet company.

Tales From Foxhole Aquarium by Fortheloveofexy / @fortheloveofexy

3* Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 88,897

Part 1 Summary: Neil Josten stares at the large building in front of him, his mouth twisted into a small frown. Yesterday, Browning had handed him a manila folder containing his new name, his new life. Included in that file had been a note, the same slightly crumpled note he’s holding in his hand now, with the name of his new employer. Foxhole Aquarium. Ask for David Wymack.

*Part 3 incomplete

2024 Reclists · INBOX · Blog Updates

[distant-velleity]

DEVIANT IN LOOKING-GLASS LAND - Yuuta Nakajima

A boy from another world with a foul mouth and a fouler temperament. He possesses the strange ability to manipulate lightning. However, even his short temper and strange behavior hide a heart of gold.

For the sake of a harmonized society, we suppress that which makes us “strange” and cast aside that which is “wrong.” However, if you can’t even do that—what then?

Yuuta has always, for better or for worse, been the black sheep of the flock. Even when transported to Twisted Wonderland out of nowhere, that doesn’t seem like it will change.

…Or will it?

Below the cut is more information about yet another “Yuu”~

PERSONALITY

Straight-forward, foul-mouthed, irritable, and hardly agreeable—these are all apt descriptions of Yuuta, a stereotypical delinquent. He sees no point in enduring what he considers to be meaningless, so more often than not, he calls things as he sees them. In the eyes of many, he tends to be a rebel without a cause, a brute with no respect for authority. Indeed, sometimes he does not look at the bigger picture and lets his temper get the better of him. 

His anger management issues and bitterness often battle for control or mix to result in destructive choices. He has an admirable ability to commit to things out of spite, but as expected, he isn’t one to plan for long-term goals. Still, in the heat of a fight, this makes him a powerful if dangerous and hard-to-control ally. 

Of course, Yuuta isn’t entirely unbearable. Somewhere beneath his grating exterior is a genuine ability to care for others and a strong desire for fairness. Once he’s accepted someone as more than tolerable, he’ll defend them no matter what. It just… takes a while to prove yourself worthy of getting past his walls.

…All the same, he is no stranger to being affable, people-pleasing, and friendly, but that’s a story for another time.

ABILITIES

Lightning: Born with the strange ability to call upon lightning/thunder, this—in Crowley’s eyes—qualified Yuuta to be a student at Night Raven College; one with accommodations, at least. Yuuta’s powers are partially dependent on his emotions, but because of years of practice, he is actually rather skilled with controlling his powers: if he grows angry or hostile outside of an actively dangerous situation, the worst result is generally just some static. He is also immune to lightning and lightning magic, as his body simply acts as a lightning rod/conductor when struck.

Fighting: On top of being physically fit, Yuuta also has a few years of getting into fights under his belt. Though not enough to face off against a professional, if you were to pit him against several others his size, he would be alright. 

TRIVIA

Yuuta was born and raised alongside a twin brother. If it weren’t for Yuuta bleaching his hair and possessing an entirely different demeanor, they would be almost identical. 

He has difficulty in most academic areas, and often requires the help of a tutor. However, he has a natural aptitude for fine arts, especially and specifically where music is concerned. 

The earrings he wears were a gift from someone he no longer talks to.

Inspirations: unOrdinary, Sasaki and Miyano, etc. 

———

taglist (ask to be added or removed): @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @casp1an-sea @nahelenia

@boopshoops @skriblee-ksk @scint1llat3 @nemisisnemi @nyx-of-night

@sillyslipperybananapeel @beneathsakurashade @kathxrat-01 @lumdays @twistedwonderlandshenanigans

[sokuly419]

I have so many thoughts and feelings about act 1 of Arcane season 2. I don’t think I could even put them into coherent sentences right now. A few things that I can are:

— I’ve said this on a couple reblogs but I can’t shake the thoughts about it. When Cait finally lets herself break in front of Vi, I noticed Vi almost hesitate. It looks like she takes a small step back before leaning forward to catch Cait. Once she does, she doesn’t seem to hug back right away, hands closed into fists. Even when she does, her hands are still closed. When Cait slides her arms down Vi’s back is when Vi finally opens her hands. I have a feeling it means something (aside from the dropping of her guard) and we might get a parallel to it.

— Speaking of Vi dropping her guard, she does it a lot around Cait in act 1. After their kiss, the gauntlets come off. Before the uh… super heartbreaking breakup, the gauntlets come off. She completely lowered her guard before talking to Cait (who was still armed) which almost makes it worse.

— Vi already drinking a lot.

— Completely unrelated to the show itself… Maddie’s voice actress is the same one who voices the companion Cait in Fallout 4. Kinda found that funny but also a touch irritated with myself for not noticing seeing as Cait is my favorite companion (outside of Dogmeat, of course). Like I should have noticed from the lines “I have to ask…” and “… a heart like yours.” Like… she says it damn near the exact same way in the game. So that makes 2 people in Arcane related to Fallout in some way. Ella Purnell (Jinx) being the other. She plays Lucy in the show. Just a neat little bit of trivia for the Fallout fans.

— Cait, darling, I love you but you’re making it awfully hard to keep defending you. Knock it off and go get your girl back. You better have a damn good apology.

— Jinx was so unbothered for most of act 1 and I am so here for it. Especially with Sevika’s new arm.

— I see a lot of people going on about Maddie. Her vibe is all off to me. Not related to any of the leaks either (sigh). Just… nah. I dunno what it is.

— Can we also talk about the blue guy on the strike team? Come on. He’s cool and doesn’t even say a word. I want to know more about him. He has a good vibe about him… for now at least.

— Cait’s cape is cool looking.

— Heimerdinger was so unbothered. Absolutely love it. Funny lil guy.

— Viktor is Jesus?? Alrighty then.

— Mel got kidnapped?

— Ambessa needs to kindly fuck off and leave Cait alone.

—Jayce needs to not touch things sometimes. I swear. Had to go fuck around with magic at the worst time while our girls were in the middle of a fucking battle.

There’s so much more bouncing around my head but can’t quite put into words yet. I’m sure I’ll get there and have even more to say once act 2 destroys us further. Until then, let’s just focus on that kiss and not what happened after…

[ohshy]

The challengers for my womens circuit and mens circuit respectively !!! Meet Cassidy Cornfield, the cornfield crusher under Little Mac’s training and Poppy Ollie, the Kaiser’s academy graduate !!!

More info ab them below the cut;

Name: Cassidy Cornfield Real name: Cassidy ‘“Cassie’’ C. Campbell Pronouns: She/They Age: 18 Ethnicity: Irish/Cherokee Weight: 90 lbs Height: 5’2 ft Rank: Depends on how well you play >:) Record: Refer to ‘’Rank’’ From: Farley, Iowa, USA

Bio: A huge conspiracy nut that believes she was put on this planet by the aliens to box. Or maybe they just had a very vivid dream when gauging down one too many corn cobs! Speaking of corn, she WILL talk your ear off about all the supposed ‘’proof’’ she has of alien existence, like the crop circles that show up frequently around her hometown. That being said, she IS determined to prove herself for her alien overlords, so prepare for a challenge!

Trivia: Unlike Little Mac, she had to wait a year to get her boxing license for her 18th birthday. She simply doesn't look old for her age 😔 Speaking of Mac, he is her trainer as well! Many years into the future, he adopted her, and when she showed a knack for boxing, decided to take her under her wing as his protégé. In a hypothetical Punch-out!! game, she takes on the role of challenger.

Gimmick: When charged with enough punching power, she can unleash a painful series of punches known as the ‘’Glass corn combo’’

_

Name: Poppy Ollie Real name: Oliver Blumenthal Pronouns: He/him Age: 18 Ethnicity: British/German Weight: 120 lbs Height: 5’5 Rank: Depends on how well you play >:) Record: Refer to “Rank” From: Manchester, England

Bio: this 18 year old graduate from Kaiser ‘s academy is ready for battle ! Naming himself after poppy flowers to honor his trainer Von Kaiser, he’s sure he will crush the competition in the men's circuit ! Despite the hardships he's faced and the long hard road of becoming the boxing champ, he is a bubbly young man with a lot of confidence in himself, in no part thank to his dad's n Kaiser's tremendous support. Prepare for a challenge !

Trivia:

Aside from boxing, likes soccer (manchester united supporter).

Does soccer chants before starting a match.

Speaks both English and German.

Like Cassidy, takes on the role of challenger.

More lore: He was born in Manchester, England to a British mom and a German dad. Unfortunately, his mom died suddenly when he was just 8 years old. As a result, his dad moved back to his native Berlin, Germany. Because of her death, Ollie, once a bubbly young child, becomes reclusive and insecure. His dad, vowing to boost his confidence, sends him to a boxing school, so he can keep his mind occupied, as well as “become a real man”. He ends up rly liking it, as well as having a true knack for boxing. Kaiser takes pity on the kid, for they both lost their moms at a young age. Additionally, he doesn’t like playing favorites, but he has to admit that Ollie is a bit of a favorite of his due to his dedication to the craft. This eventually leads to him becoming Ollie’s trainer.

Gimmick: Like Kaiser, he has a powerful signature move, which Ollie called the "Poppy Punch". When he's charged up enough, it can take down an opponent in one hit. But watch out, as in Title Defense the opponents can counter it, and take HIM down in one hit instead !

[jebeplanet]

☆ 231201 ASIDE: MORE TALK TRIVIA ☆ ZEROBASEONE KIM GYUVIN ☆

[creepycrawliesanonymous]

To All The Boys I've Written About Before - Beige Flags

In my never-ending quest to make things that appeal only to me, here's a little exercise for all the boys in my arsenal.

Angel Torres will always help you out around the house, no question about that, but boy will he act like he's a hero for simply loading the dishwasher. I'm talking wiping his brow every time you walk into the kitchen, grunting when he puts a plate on the drying rack. You offer to help but he flat out refuses, and will probably say some shit like "My hands look like this [soapy] so yours can look like that [slightly dirty from repotting your plants]."

Jesse Pinkman will call you "dude" until the end of time. It doesn't matter what stage of your relationship you are currently in, you will always and forever be "dude" to him. "Yo dude, do you want to grab Wendy's on the way home?""Dude, you look pretty today." You could be at the alter and it would be a "Dude, I do." He also 100% buys in to the "glasses make you smarter" myth.

Lemon bought himself a label-maker, and that man LOVES makin' labels. All the drawers in your flat are labeled, so are the spices (even if they already have labels), he labels which food belongs to who, all the wires/cables have a label for what kind of wire/cable they are and what they're for. You told him that you could probably remember which clear jar holds the salt and which holds the ginger-snaps, so he made the label "fuck off" and stuck it to your forehead.

Tangerine refuses to call menu items by their proper names, especially if they're stupid. A matcha latte is "green foamy shit, you know." If the dish is named after someone, this chicken shop you frequent has an Ike's Famous Wings Bowl, he will call it "that bloke's chicken thing, the one with all the spices and shit on it." The worst was when he wanted to order the Foxx on the Roxx Boxx from TGI Fridays (yes that's the spelling, I looked it up), he straight up would not say its name, he just kept pointing at the menu and saying "fucking- this one."

Harvey SDV, sweet man that he is, will always sign off his text messages. It doesn't matter how long or short the message is. There's the standard "darling, I'm running a little bit late, would you like me to pick up something for dinner? Dr H" but there's also the "okay honey (: Dr H" or the "[insert picture of flower] Dr H". You've tried to explain to him that you know that it's him, that he doesn't need to sign off every time he messages you, but it's no use.

Andrew Neiman loves to collect random bits of niche trivia, but will straight up forget incredibly basic things. You two were out at a live music venue, sipping on your tasty little beverages, and he'll just bust out something about the similarities between jazz and Indian music, and while he's expanding on the influence of Ravi Shankar on Coltrane, he'll flip through the menu in front of him and ask you what margarine is.

Carmen Berzatto, common knowledge at this point, always keeps a book on him, which on its own is a very good thing. It keeps him from getting bored, you think it makes him look smart, it's a win by all accounts. But, save for when he's at work, he will whip that book out whenever there's any sort of lull in a conversation or if he's not physically doing something. You were talking to him about weekend plans, and he'll be listening intently because he's a good boyfriend who cares about your thoughts, but as soon as you go quiet to turn around to grab something he's flipping open his copy of The Reivers to quickly read a sentence.

Randal Graves loves to fake propose at restaurants for free shit. He makes a big thing out of it, will pull you aside before you enter Olive Garden and show you the tiny plastic ring he's used about three times already and whisper about the ruse he's about to pull, and all you can do is nod along with him. He's gotten more elaborate each time, from the basic garden-variety proposal, to putting it in your water, to asking to have it put in your Chipotle burrito (you had nearly swallowed it that time), managing to score a few free desserts and, at one point, a bottle of cheapo champagne that he got so incredibly slurshed on at home.

Warren Rojas has this game he likes to play whenever you two go to bars or nightclubs where he will pretend like you two don't know each other just so he can hit on you in the most cheesy ways known to man. Asking to buy you a drink, dumb pick-up lines, saying shit like "My name is Warren, but you can call me anytime." It's so incredibly dumb and he gets the biggest kick out of it. One time when you and Eddie were having a conversation at a party he totally pulled out the "Is this guy bothering you, babe?" He thinks he's so funny.

Jimmy Bartlett, whenever you two are cuddling, will set a timer so he knows when to switch from big spoon to little spoon. He'll bring up the egg timer from the kitchen and set it to 20 minutes before he joins you on his bed. You'll be half asleep after a long shift from work with his head buried in the back of your neck, and the next thing you know he's shuffling around while tiny beeps are sounding and he's somehow got your arms around him before you even realize what's happening, before drifting off again. He says it's only fair.

Miguel O'Hara is like a big dog with the temperament of a house cat; thinks he takes up less space than he does and always at least slightly grumpy. He'll get confused when he goes to put on a sweater that was originally yours (the communal wardrobe holds no prisoners) and finds it tight around his biceps. He knocks his forehead on low doorways constantly, you've taken to shouting 'duck' whenever you see him about to go through one. Watching movies on the couch with him, during a rare moment of peace, can be an ordeal because he always wants to lie down on top of you and you don't have the heart to tell him that he's crushing your lungs.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

OK, so I think we need to talk about Johnny and the canon fact (check his trivia) that he has a distaste for the entire slaughter/Sawyer family, but specifically his stepmom, Nancy

Now you won’t be thinking oh yeah, that’s obvious. He hates her because she’s a bitch, right? He knows that he’s adopted and hates her for taking his mom.

But actually in his CANON trivia, it says it’s unknown whether Johnny actually knows about his biological mom or not.

So my question is, if he doesn’t even know he’s adopted what causes him to have such strong distain for the family, but specifically his stepmom Nancy?

It also says that he became the monster he is today because of Nancy. Now I know the obvious answer is to think oh well DUH they’re talking about how she raised him to kill people

But that scar on his face was caused by Nancy herself. And I’m wondering if part of the monster part of Johnny is caused by her emotional and physical abuse.

Maybe he needs to always be the predator, the dominant one, the one in control, so he can never feel out of control again just like when he was too young to defend himself and his own mom would give him scars.

It’s also implied that the way he was raised caused him to be more narcissistic and that he could’ve been a totally normal person if he was just raised by his own mother.

The game developers don’t make much clear, but they do make one thing clear, and that’s he would not be the same person if he wasn’t raised by Nancy.

I wonder if he even knows that he could’ve had a normal childhood but by the time he got used to the blood in the gore, he simply didn’t care.

I am just fascinated by the relationship between these two… which is a lot more complex than at first glance.

And some people could mark his distain towards everybody down to being a narcissist, but I don’t think that’s the whole picture.

Another thing is that it was revealed in a live stream which I know is something I keep bringing up but again I can’t find in this is that Johnny might end up killing one day killing Nancy and leaving the family permanently

Additionally, aside from Nancy, I wonder what caused his distain towards the entire slaughter family?

Was it perhaps the way they just watched an allowed to adopt him killing his own mother that he may not even know about?

Does narcissism genuinely get in the way of him feeling love and emotional connection to his family?

Or perhaps, he realized that he could’ve had an entire life and fully knows about his biological mom and resents them for taking that opportunity that he never got?

Also, what about the members he seems to like? Grandpa? Leatherface? Hands? He clearly has preferences, but why did it say he has a distaste for the Sawyer family in general?

Opinions?!

[chaifootsteps]

Hi! First of all, I always look forward to seeing your posts whenever I’m online. So, thank you for the interesting, funny, and informative content!

So, I was scrolling through Pinterest and saw some cute Charlastor art. When I tapped on it to open the link, I discovered that the tweeted art didn’t exist anymore (I.e. it was deleted). I saw that the artist was “Hunter B” so I looked up the name on Google to see if more cute art showed up in Google images. I saw that their twitter account was still active, so I checked it out. It seems like they only deleted the Charlastor art that couldn’t be read as platonic.

When I saw that they currently work on Helluva Boss, it suddenly made more sense. Wow. It seems like you need to ship the *right* ships if you want to work for Vivienne Medrano? Or maybe Vivienne didn’t force them, but they still felt that they needed to have the *right* fanart anyway.

I looked up Hunter B’s deleted posts and, aside from the clearly positive feelings about Charlastor, I saw that they even replied to at least one of Ashley’s posts at some point, talking about Charlastor.

It makes me wonder who else on her team is a closeted/ex-Charlastor fan….

I examine episodes 5 and 7, and if I didn’t know all the hazbin character trivia already, I would have thought that the show was planting the seeds for Charlie having at least an emotional affair in season 2 or something. The way he makes her happy so easily, even when he was cruelly pushing her into a corner just moments before, in episode 7. The way she just lets him move her around, or grab at her most of the time without complaint (the only time she responded negatively to his touch was when he pressed his cheek against hers). The way she lets him take over her entire bed, uninvited and unannounced. I could go on.

How much of the “fan service” is intentional on Vivenne’s part, do you think?

I'm conflicted. She clearly knows that fanservice is peacock money, but Viv's not one to put anything in her shows that she doesn't wholeheartedly enjoy herself, even if it's to the entire show's detriment and isolates invaluable portions of her fanbase.

If you told me that all of that fanservice in the show was either put in there in spite of her wishes or alternatively, that I'm giving her too much credit and she really is dumb enough to think their relationship doesn't come across that way, I'd believe you in both cases.

[xiyouyanyi]

Welcome!

@ryin-silverfish here, also known as "That person who talks a lot about FSYY and fox spirits".

This is my little LMK AU sideblog, which started off as a bunch of disjointed background notes for my fanfics, but developed into its own gigantic thing over time.

I've said elsewhere that, despite LMK (and many other JTTW adjacent works) lifting certain tidbits wholesale from FSYY——like Nezha's backstory or the Golden Dragon Shears, neither the show nor the fanworks really go into the implications of a FSYY/JTTW combined universe.

(For one, Zhao Gongming's three sisters, the Sanxiao, showing up to kick Jin and Yin's butts for stealing and breaking their treasure would be very satisfying, and also hella badass.)

Well, be the change you want, they said. 

So here it is: Journey of the Gods, aka "LMK, but FSYY is also canon and an extremely influential historical event".

Inspired by @digitaldoeslmk 's By the Book AU.

What even is FSYY?

"Ancient China's bloodiest bureaucracy recruitment program, kickstarted by a king who simped too hard for the creator goddess of humanity and the fox girl she sent to end his dynasty."

"I'll write my own God-Demon novel, with blackjacks and fox hookers and no Buddhist allegories!" ——Xu Zhonglin/Lu Xixing/Li Yunxiang

Okay, jokes aside: Investiture of the Gods(Fengshen Yanyi) is the other big "God-Demon Novel" of the Ming dynasty, written after JTTW. It's about the toppling of the Shang dynasty and its tyrannical King Zhou by King Wu of Zhou——but with more Daoism, immortals and demons helping out both sides, and ten billion magical formations and treasures. 

At the end of the story, almost everyone who died in battle were deified and became the 365 gods of the Celestial Bureaucracy, thus "Investiture of the Gods". 

Here is a link to the only full English translation of FSYY, by Gui Zhizhong.

Here is my overview of FSYY's grand overarching conflict, a.k.a. "Why are all the Daoist immortals fighting?" 

Compared to JTTW, it's a lot more formulaic and suffers from a massive character count inflation problem, but also extremely influential in Chinese folk religion, to the point of some modern temples, like Qingyang Palace, basically worshiping characters from the novel! Like, the western equivalent would be a church worshiping Dante and Beatrice from the Divine Comedy.

(Similarly, it is to orthodox Daoism what the Divine Comedy is to medieval Christian theology, and should not be treated as actual religious scriptures.)

Okay, FSYY happened in the LMK universe. So What?

Well, first, it will really do wonders to fill up that eerily empty Celestial Realm we see in the Spider Queen special, and the Celestial Bureaucracy will no longer consist of a grand total of five people.

Secondly, it can solve some major show-not-tell problems and actually give legitimacy to the grievances of the LMK Brotherhood + Havoc in Heaven, as well as fleshing out the Celestial Realm.

Third, so many cool magical treasures.

Fourth, LBD gets an origin story, with a twist.

Fifth, I delight in quality angst and horror, and FSYY had some seriously messed-up stuff and implications.

Sixth, Celestial Bureaucracy office politics.

Seventh, Nezha kicking asses and winning fights like he should.

Eighth, crazy Xianxia shit, as you’d expect from the great-granddaddy of modern Xianxia genre.

Ninth, infodumps about Chinese mythos and history trivias.

Tenth, Underworld lore.

...As you can probably tell, this is mostly just me nerding out and writing walls of texts. I'm not a very good artist and can't do Lego style, but will probably doodle some symbol/character designs for funsies.

I also derive most of my enjoyment from writing fix-its and worldbuilding, not shipping characters. Like, I love exploring individual characters through relationships, but just ain't a fan of romance.

There will be a lot of OCs, but unless otherwise specified, all of them will be based on actual characters from FSYY and JTTW, with a few folk gods sprinkled in for funsies.

With that taken care of: good luck and happy reading!

[newstedz]

snowfall ☆ kirk hammett

okay so i'm relatively new to this but i just was so inspired by @mustainegf 's prompt that I just kept writing and writing and you get the idea. basic gist is that kirk calls you over to watch an old movie with him, its all fluff (timeframe is around 1987, post damage inc. tour.) also sorry for the incredibly generic title I literally cannot think of anything else

exhausted was an understatement.

you'd finally gotten a day off, and god was it needed. you barely had any energy to get out of bed to grab a snack, much less go outside. besides, it was freezing, and as much as you loved the idea of snow, it loses its charm when you're stuck waiting at the bus stop in the middle of a blizzard.  the day is yours, and ideally it would have been spent alone, tucked into bed. but then, you got a call. your stomach instantly dropped. you anticipated it'd be your boss, fabricating some asinine reason for you to appear at work today, even though nobody in their right mind would be out in the cold just to go to some shitty retail store. you pick up the phone with a groan. however, you're met with another familiar voice. one you weren't expecting, and suddenly, that dread in the pit of your stomach is replaced with butterflies.

"hey!" kirk beams from the other end of the phone. "sorry- did I wake you up?"

"no." you reply. granted, you weren't fully awake, but you didn't have the heart to make him think he may have been burdening you.

"oh.. okay!" he says, not seeming to need much convincing. "anyways, i just got this tape, you've gotta see this. it's some horror movie from like, the 50's or something. I got the tape  from this guy, he- I mean, that's not really important, I guess." he says, his enthusiasm dwindling as his voice grows more shy. "but I was wondering, I mean, i'd really like for you to come over and watch it with me. if you want." he offers sheepishly.

you can't help but smile. if it were anyone else, you'd consider making up some elaborate excuse about how you caught a stomach bug or fell ill after standing in the cold for too long. but you've known Kirk since you were kids, and you can't remember the last time you guys got to really hang out. between you working and his touring schedule, things just never seemed to work. it was something special to him, too. you knew how involved he was in tape trading, horror, and all that stuff you couldn't quite wrap your head around. but for him, you'd do it in a heartbeat. you gaze out the window. it's still snowing, but it had slowed to flurries. a thin layer of snow coats the grass and branches of the trees. you can't pass this up.

"sure."

"really? nice! so um. I'll see you." he exclaims, abruptly ending the call before you could even ask when he wanted you to be there. you sigh, getting up and heading for the shower.  one long bus ride later, you arrive at his door. as soon as you knock he rushes to the door, trying (and failing) to hide his excitement. "hey!" he grins, showing off his adorable, crooked smile. he steps aside allowing you to enter. "sorry its a mess in here. i just got back.." he murmurs. you cant help but laugh. "its whatever, man. i've seen worse from you." you reply, earning a chuckle from him. as soon as you two get settled, the snow gets heavy. very heavy. seems like you made it just in time. kirk seems to notice too. "looks like you're stuck with me."

_

the next hour is spent watching the movie, though it seems like it was only used as a catalyst for the two of you to play catch-up and for him to infodump trivia about the film. though you can't focus on the movie, at least not now. you're too focused on the way the light shines off his face and curls. the way he incessantly giggles when recalling a crazy road story. the snow is piling up outside, and it's only now that you realize he was trying to talk to you.

"hey, did you hear me?" he asks, tilting his head. he figured he was talking your ear off, though you really could listen to him all day.

"huh? i- no, you're good. i'm just.. cold." you attempt to wave it off unconvincingly, only leaving you to be met with more of his concerns. "are you okay? you were kinda just staring. are you bored? we can do something else, if you want." he murmurs as he gazes briefly at you, only to shift his focus to the TV screen. it could be the lighting, but you could've sworn you saw the lightest tinge of color come to his cheeks. 

"what about you?" you ask. the whole time you've been here, you've gotten the basic stuff, yeah. but it wasn't as personal as it used to be between the two of you. you used to stay up for hours talking about your worries, your goals. you were the first one he told about anything, and vice versa. but now it seemed like he was nervous just from being the same room with you. 

"what about me? i'm fine." he shrugs, now trying to shift the attention back to the movie.

"then why wont you look at me?" the question sorta just slips out. you didn't mean to pry, today was supposed to be lighthearted, but kirk's reaction seems to confirm your suspicions of there being something more, as he begins to stumble over his words. you place your hand gently over his. "you know you can talk to me, right?" as your eyes meet, his face goes red. "it's stupid." kirk murmurs again, though he knows he can't hide this from you anymore. "i feel like.. i'm running out of time. I mean- you're not always gonna be waiting around for me, and it's like whenever i'm gone, i.." he trails off, shifting his gaze away from you yet again. he takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I like you. like really like you, and I don't wanna drift off from you or mess anything up-" kirk rambles on, but you've heard enough. you laugh, suddenly scooting closer to him. all you give is an affectionate "shut up" before your lips meet. you move away to see his shocked expression, but he quickly swaps it for a huge, dorky grin as he pulls you in for another.

a few more shared kisses later, kirk pulls away, staring back at the window. he turns back to you. "y'know.. it's pretty nasty out there. maybe you should stay the night." he grins, not subtle in the slightest. you can't help but laugh and nod. suddenly, the room feels so much warmer.