#do you see how i get bogged down in stupid details

[stephaniedola]

i have literally no right to be upset that i cant see him this weekend im literally sick and his dad is literally immunocompromised but still the idea that i wont be able to see him for yet another 2 fucking weeks (im busy next weekend with family stuff) is driving me up the fucking wall

like theres a part of me that wishes he would drop everything and come visit me even if its risky because i know that the longer i dont see him the more my heart will wander and the more pressure there will be on whenever we do meet next

and like i guess i wish that i mattered more to him, but its irrational because see above

[iridescentflamingo]

TMNT Head cannons

Bayverse Turtles. Just ideas that kind of poured out tonight. (Aged up turtles, you can pick but I want them 30-ish. ~NSFW)

🧡🐢🎇🧡

The easiest turtle to win over is Mikey. He practically throws himself at you. When you give him positive attention back, he just ramps up his flirting. He has pet names for you for days. Eventually, he'll settle on one or two good ones and use them instead of your name almost always. You are going to have to confirm that you have feelings for him before he takes it to the next level. Due to the fact that he is so very straight forward and right out the gates with his cat calling, you have to confirm that you are not just being nice and playing along. He's a flirt, not a creep. (Maturity has found him, it just took him a few more years than his brothers)

Once you do, your fate is sealed. Mikey is definitely a very handsy, flirty, hiding no feelings and having practically no shame kinda dude. He doesn't care if anyone sees, hears, smells etc. his flirting and most of his physical romancing. Telling you how hard you make him a bit louder than he should, toughie tough. Making out on the couch in front of everyone, he doesn't care. Getting caught with his hand down your pants in the kitchen, oh well.

What he does keep secret and quiet is when he vents. Always expected to be the fun and sunshine brother, you become his confidant when he's got heavy feels things to unload. To make sure that it doesn't bog you down, he tries his hardest to end with something more positive and turn it back into good-vibes.

The other thing he'll keep more on the down-low is when the two of you are trying new fetishes or engaging in kinky play for the first time. He doesn't want to be interrupted or for you to get embarrassed and then never want to try again, so that stuff stays in his room, when he knows it's private and he won't be bothered. After y'all get comfortable with it, maybe then he's less cautious.

💙🐢🌊💙

Leo is tough to know. He's dead set on his duties to the point that it's most of his personality, until you get to know him better, and that only happens if he lets you. It'll be slow. He will start by sharing random tidbits of himself that don't have to do with ninjutsu, weapons, or his leadership responsibilities. In the beginning they're bland, basic facts; which pizza toppings he prefers, his favorite type of TV show, his preferred genre of book. They're things you could gleam from just being around him for more than a few days. He's stupid cautious.

His next step would be to ask if you want to do some training with him. He sticks to simple things, testing your abilities and skills. It's really more to learn about you, but it's a start. He takes it easy on you, mostly dodging until you get frustrated, and then maybe he humbles you with a sneaky move like knocking you off your feet. He doesn't ask you if you want to practice again, he waits for you to ask.

Over time, the training becomes more physical and he shares actual details about himself, but you have to be giving info in return. Knowing what his favorite movie is probably would never be information that The Foot uses against him, but you never know. You have got to meet him, tit for tat, and offer your own truths. If he catches you lying, you're not just back to zero, you're in the negative.

Eventually, if you've managed to gain his trust and build a strong connection with him, Leo will open up properly. He will joke, play, swat, and treat you like one of his brothers, with a more gentle approach because you're not a 200lb+ muscled turtle.

If romance blooms, expect another slow trudge full of trust building and honesty before you get any proper boyfriend-esque attention. Once past the awkward "we shouldn't, it's too dangerous, how would this work?, I'm not human, will you really be happy here?" Swamp of despair, it should be smooth sailing. Be honest and he's all yours.

All that time spent building that relationship will return ten-fold from Leo with whatever type of affection you ask for. He wants to please, he wants you happy, and he will make it so if possible.

❤️🐢🥊❤️

Raph is going to keep his feelings secret for as long as he can. He hides his insecurities by trying to be the biggest, heaviest hitter, and a tank for his brothers. And those are just his viewed shortcomings compared to his three brothers. When looking at you, he compares himself against all men. He has little hope. In the mirror he sees a big, green face with sharp features and a scowling, RBF. He may act like hot shit in front of his brothers, but it's a front. Besides his appearance and size, his temper can flare, and he's come a long way since he was a teen, but it can still explode from him, which is terrifying to see, especially up close. He's very aware and is afraid that if you see him in that state, it will only reinforce the fact that he's a monster.

You will see glimpses of how sweet he can be from time to time, but they won't come often. When you're around, his guard is up doing double time; keeping up appearances and keeping his feelings in check. Over time his facade will falter occasionally. He'll be laughing at your jokes, ribbing you when you get frustrated over video games, checking to see if you've eaten, and maybe even leaning against you as he nods off on the couch. When you smile at his playfulness and kindness, he'll smile back until he catches himself and suddenly remembers that he has something to do. It will probably be going to their home gym.

If you can manage to get him to accept that you honestly and truly think he is not a monster, and that you want to be around him, and miss him when you're not with him, you're going to get someone who can be a huge teddy bear cuddler, but also someone who likes to get physical and more rough in the bedroom. This is going to take a lot of repeating yourself and him asking, not always subtly, if you really mean it. If you're sure you wouldn't be happier with some other guy. If your eyes work. If he's really not too big. If if if... You will learn that kisses can usually stop him from spiraling.

Sometimes Raph wants to cuddle and be soft and tender. Despite his size he is careful. He handles you like you're a porcelain figurine in the beginning. With the practiced ability to knit, his large hands can be surprisingly dexterous and delicate. He is not a bull in a china shop unless he chooses to. Quiet times together have him completely wrapped around you, holding you carefully close and seeking your body warmth. You are careful not to laugh the first time he slips and churrs when he begins to doze off in your arms. He won't do it again if you embarrass him.

Over time, he allows himself to be a bit more rough with you. At first it is just careful roughhousing, perhaps some near choreographed play tackles or even picking you up and pretending to slam you on the bed, setting you down carefully with sound effects instead of actual violence (Raph may have loved watching WWE growing up). After a bout of rougher hands-on play, he notices that you're turned on. This changes things immediately. Taking advantage of the situation, the play shifts from silly to sexual in an instant.

You both end up having the most amazing sex you've ever had thus far. The next day you talk about it as you ice bruises and he apologizes as you hobble around when you first get up from bed. As a couple, you set limits and it becomes a more regular thing. You enjoy this rougher type of sex and he enjoys being able to be less careful. Being rough is in his nature and you loving it and getting off to it just helps strengthen your bond.

💜🐢⚛️💜

(Saved the best for last~)

Donnie is guarded, but secretly hopeful about the possibility of a relationship. This busy, brainy, tech wizard of a brother is a master of design and invention, but he still has his own hang ups. Instead of fighting off insecurities, he fights anxiety, boredom, and possibly depression. Instead of working out or training, he buries himself in his work. Keeping busy keeps his mind from wandering into darker thoughts. It also leads him to pass out and sleep dreamless sleep. He knows that it isn't healthy, but the other thoughts aren't good for him either.

When he notices that you've taken an interest in what he is working on, he eagerly shares to the point of info-dumping. If he catches himself, he apologizes out of reflex. You have to dismiss it or he will assume that, like his brothers, you do not have time to hear him ramble. Asking him questions, especially if you do not understand what he is talking about, will spur him on to explain. He's patient and wants to share his knowledge. If you pretend to know, he can tell, and won't say anything, but will take note that you're just trying to be nice in order to placate him and get him to stop.

Always watching and analyzing everything, he'll take notice who you talk to when you arrive, who you spend the most time with, how you react to his other brothers antics and conversations, who you decide to sit next to, how much physical contact you give and to who... He sees it all and makes mental notes. He will also overthink things. Were you just laughing at Mikey's jokes, or was that flirting? Were you smiling at Leo because he was kind, or was that something more? Was that shove you attempted to give Raph just for fun, or were you trying to spur him to touch you? If you don't give him equal or more attention, he will notice and make pessimistic predictions.

If you give him the most attention out of his brothers and are genuinely interested in his projects and research, he will take note and begin to test you a little. While handing him a screwdriver, he notes how you react when his fingers linger on yours a little longer than they should have. As he explains the wiring on a smaller machine, he stealthily monitors your pulse rate when he moves close enough for your arms to press against one another. After some motor oil droplets splash on your cheek, he watches your face for any signs as he gently wipes the dark spots away with his thumb. Every action is inconspicuous and easily dismissed, but a treasure trove of valuable information before he makes any kind of decision as to what to do.

If he is completely positive that you harbor a crush on him, he meticulously plans his own confession. A true romantic, he wants this to be perfect. The two of you will be alone, most likely in his lab space where he is most comfortable. His brothers will either be out or busy. You won't have any idea that this is a special evening and will be under the guise that you're coming over to help him out with a project, as you often did. He'll let the evening start out with that project, but will end up shifting your attention to something else he's made. The secret project will be something impressive that has you in awe, asking how long he's been working on it. That's when he makes his move.

His answers have been rehearsed in his mind over and over, but his nerves still cause him to shake and some of his answers carry a hint of nervousness, but his face is confident and sure. He reports his data to you and details how he's noticed your affection. Still monitoring you, he is careful and has a backup plan readied in case he has to abort his admission. If everything goes as planned, you end up with his hand on your cheek and a gentle first kiss upon your lips.

Donatello is almost clingy with his affection. You receive messages when you are not around him and when you are at the lair, he is close to you or at least nearby. He seeks physical contact often but in more discrete ways when around others. At the dinner table, he'll move his leg so that his calf is leaning against yours. During movie night, he is hip to hip with you on the couch, encouraging you to lean against him once the flick starts. It's not completely hidden, but its modest.

Away from prying eyes, it is a completely different story. Hands end up under and in clothing as kisses turn from soft and sweet to hungry and demanding in seconds. All you have to do is say the right words. Donnie proves time and time again that he is a quick learner and has your body figured out within a couple of weeks. You find it difficult, at first, for him to properly let go and let you take the wheel, but in time the trust is built and he allows you to give without also receiving. He turns out to be a versatile switch after deviating from his original, more dominant, tenancies.

His favorite thing to do is make you climax. His second favorite thing is to climax together. His third is using toys...

~Ɛ>------------------------------------<3~

@thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @sophiacloud28 @thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @tmntngl @avery73 @tmntngl

(lmk if I missed anyone's tags)

[velvetvexations]

Since we're talking about forcefem, here're most of the forcefem-related asks I've had in my inbox, some of which are a few days old on account of technically going in the vexatious tag if not exactly kink asks. I wanted to answer one from today on it's own which I'll get to later but I wanted to get to the older ones and also get to a few of the others from today while I was at it.

i just saw a post where a trans guy was showing some messages where someone was (unconsensually) basically roleplaying forcefemming him. despite him telling them that he did not want that and that it was very much transphobic, and he atill got a message boiling down to "you're not a man, silly, you're a girl :D" and. to be honest. this was the thing that stopped the brainworms of "what if the whole concept of transandrophobia is actually transmisogynistic and i am entirely wrong" bc at least some of these people will just say the most bog standard transphobic shit to trans guys and not register it as transphobia. so why the fuck would they be right about anything transmascs experience also on that note thank you for being so outspoken in favour of transmascs getting to discuss their oppression. it's really helpful to see trans women stand with us here, especially when it comes to aforementioned brainworms

congratulations to that transphobe for creating a new transandrobro

the 'forcemasc isnt revolutionary' shit is the most annoying iteration of stupid tumblr discourse. like im going through the tag trying to read some horny shit and oh look. theres someone being stupid and hypocritical. in my horny tag.

people are getting tribalist about kinks and it's depressing

Every time people are saying that trans men & mascs cannot possibly fathom being objectified & fetishized, I think on all of the posts I’ve seen that did that exact same thing. And yeah, some of it might have been kink, so no hate no judgement I dabble in that tag too, but I’ve also seen “get in the dress” type posts that seem to be genuinely calling for trans men to be more feminine, untagged & in the wild, enough where I’m like — am I just imagining this? Like am I crazy? Am I missing something, or was that extremely detailed post about why I MUST stay feminine — or become more — for someone else’s benefit being 100% serious? And, again — if it’s kink, all the power to them, I love that for them, I even occasionally love that for me. But I have encountered enough people who were dead serious that I sometimes want no one but trusted friends & advisors to ever witness me again. And then I look at statistics & feel genuinely ill. And yeah, I’m gnc — and there’s the rub, because while I feel genuine joy being fem as well as masc, I want it to be a Choice, not something forced upon me.

people need to be fucking normal

Yh like ik a lot of shitposts don't have any tags but people have. Really gotta tag forcefem. I've blocked a large amount of people making these jokes + filtered their names n I still see it

I'm sorry, anon. <3

Fuck thank you so much for talking so openly about forcemasc. I’m so dumb I thought there wasn’t a name for that kink that I’ve been into for years, albeit my version is way more weirder. It would be like a… forcemascfem??? Like first it’s forcemasc and then it turns into forcefem and then right back to forcemasc…. And then back to- Idk my gender is weird and my kinky fantasy for that is weird

Cross as many boundries as you want, that sounds rad. Forcefem has a lot of infrastructure to jump off of.

“I’m doing a kink in a non kink way so it’s not kink blog!” Sorry this pisses me off It’s still a kink. Like. If someone made an I-suggest-BDSM blog and tried to claim it wasn’t a kink blog I’m sure more people would see how silly this is but because it’s the transfem approved virtuous forcefem they just let it slide??? Like. You are engaging in a kink and thats fine. You can say there won’t be anything explicitly sexual! But it will still be a kink blog because it’s a blog about a kink! A kink blog if you will! It doesn’t matter if you’re not getting off to it, it’s still a kink! That you are participating in! On your blog about that kink!

It SHOULD piss you off! It's extremely fucking scummy!

what the hell? for like one solid minute(longer than that but i like saying it this way) all the forcefem on my dash was tagged and i could blissfully not have to see it every other post and then just today i had to unfollow a buncha people for an assload of untagged forcefem :/ like im transmasc i think its understandable that i do not wish to see that anyway hope your day is goin well miss velvet

yeah it's praxis to not tag kink anymore

trfs are perfectly aware what the "force" bit means when forcemasc comes up in conversation

strange how that works

[gamerism]

pirate game rambling and thoughts, including ending stuff

majima gaiden/pirate yakuza/pirates in hawaii or whatever other stupid name you want to call it feels to me like a culmination of everything rgg studio has learnt from the critical reception of yakuza 6, the majima saga in kiwami 2, kiryu's gaiden and kiryu's story in infinite wealth even. in regards to how it handles majima, who is present in his story (saejima, nishida, minami all get screentime), how the ending is approached, and so much more.

i can find so little fault with it as a send off for the character. the pacing of the story is good, it stays a little longer than kiryu gaiden did (as much as i love the length of that game, it wouldnt be bad to have an extra few hours of story) but doesn't get bogged down by wasting too long on tangents or taking so long to tell its story you start to forget the details of the early game (i love yak 0 and IW but this is a problem). everything in the final chapter was just awesome, one amazing scene after another. and that post credits scene....oof.

i know some folks are already crying to the heavens that majima's characterisation is destroyed here or that hes just reset to yakuza 0 but i humbly disagree with both. we see a different front from majima than just the mad dog, same as we did in 0 (and even kiwami 2 saga honestly but whatever), but that's great! majima as a character has been in a holding pattern since 1988 with how he presents himself to others and what we therefore get to see of him. yakuza 0 illustrates perfectly why this is, but its still a massive weight off to see something finally shift.

in the early game, when majima remembers the least about his past, he's the most unguarded emotionally. he hardly projects any cruelty towards others, and even then only towards those actively threatening him (or noah). majima has not been a one-note cruelty only shithead since the original yakuza 2! i don't know why some ppl are Mad when we get to actively see more of the tenderness he's capable of, but rarely shares.

i love the detail that he gets more ruthless as the game goes on. in part because the stakes just keep rising and the people he wants to protect (the rich family) are in deeper and deeper danger but also because more and more of his memories return. like that moment where he threatens rodriguez and shigaki's pinkies. chapter 1 majima wasn't acting anything like that at all. we see the cowl of the mad dog slip further and further back into place, until saejima calls majima out in one of my favourite scenes in the game.

and yet. and yet majima still remains complex and vibrant and full of multitudes after that point. he uses that classic cruelty as a tool, but he doesn't wield it with the same reckless abandon as the past, he uses it with precise precision. (this, i think reminds ppl of yak 0, as he acted much the same there). he also continues to show deep kindness to the people he's come to care about, not closing off that exposed weakness the way he would have in the past.

nor does he blow saejima off when the man calls him out to his face for chasing an impossible dream to give kiryu good health again. thus directly exposing another weakness.

i think, this is exactly what i was hoping we'd see in this (presumably) final big send off for this character. him growing past the limits of the mad dog persona. he's not transformed to a point beyond recognition, but there starts a subtle shift the moment noah approaches him on that beach, that he allows to grow within him. until we are finally presented with someone who is truly prepared for the death of the yakuza as a whole, in a way that he wasn't at the dissolution. majima 5 years prior, in the words of ichiban, had left the yakuza but it hadn't left him. he now, really feels like he's been able to move on. become someone beyond all it shaped him to be for 40 odd years. how could any fan who loves majima (as the statistics say most of us do) ask for more than that?

[drmaddict]

Clean up

Summary: Eddie has problems when it comes to cleaning up. (Y/n) helps him.

Wordcount: 1.086

Authors note: I found this little tool and since I believe Eddie has some kind of neurodivergence, I think it would help him a lot. It breaks all your tasks down in small an easy steps. You can even say, how detailed you want your ToDo-List to be. I'm moving at the moment and this really helped me, to organize everything. Maybe it helps some of you too.

https://goblin.tools/

But now to this stupid little story.

"Well, we can just go to your place. Wayne's not around most nights, you said."

Eddie faltered. "Um..." He laughed uncertainly. "Well... It's much... bigger at your place, isn't it? And...and..."

"And my mom storms the room almost every five minutes."

Eddie looked down at the floor. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?" (Y/n) looked at him in confusion. Since when was Eddie Munson so shy?

"Eh you know... It's... um."

"Eddie if you don't want to have me in the trailer-"

"I do!" he interrupted her immediately.

"It's just... I don't know how to... clean up." he mumbled, holding a strand in front of his face as he always did when he was unsure.

"What?"

"You heard me.", he grumbled, playing with his rings. Sulking, he looked at the tabletop in front of him.

(Y/n) put a hand reassuringly on his nervous fingers. "I can help you."

"I don't want you to see this, though.", he continued to mumble.

"I'm not judging you for something like that. A lot of people have problems with that kind of thing."

Eddie shook his head. "I just always get bogged down." He hung his head and waved it off, but (y/n) knew there was more wanting to get out. She continued to stroke the back of his hand. "In elementary school, everyone thought I was gross because.... well because no one ever showed me how to do it all. No one told me how often to shower, or how often and how long and how to brush my teeth. My hair was so matted that my father just shaved it off." Tears glistened in his eyes. "My room looks really bad okay? I don't want you to... well..." He waved his hand around.

She reached for his hand and held it tightly. "I could explain what you need to do."

"To-dos don't work for me. You know that."

"Try. For me." She looked at him with her best puppy eyes.

He sighed. "All right."

"And if you don't know how to do something, you just call."

He nodded surrendered. If it was that important to her.

Eddie stood in his room with (y/n)s list and looked around, overwhelmed. He took a deep breath. Okay.

1. Open window.

Good. He managed to do that.

He opened the small window and checked off the item on the list.

2. Get cleaning supplies.

Very small step, but doable. He threw everything he found into a bucket and put it in his room.

3. Throw all clothes in a basket/box.

4. Put the laundry in the washing machine.

4.1. Wash clothes at 104°F (don't forget detergent and fabric softener).

Before Eddie knew it, he had thrown all the odds and ends into a laundry basket and his floor was vacuumed. (Y/n) had written everything down for him in such small steps that it was easy for him to work through. No big jumps. No 'Step two: laundry'. No it was: 'Find laundry. Put laundry in the washing machine. Fill it and turn it on.' He just had to do it that way.

But then he did have to make an unpleasant phone call.

"Hello?"

"Hey... um... (Y/n). So I've got stains in the carpet."

"Okay. What kind of stains?"

"Uh..."

"Grease stains? Paint stains? Drinking spills?"

"Let's say...organic.... Stains."

She laughed. "All right. Take baking soda. You sprinkle that on the stains until they're covered. Then you put warm, even hot water on it and let that bubble for a while. Then you scrub it with a brush. Let it dry and you're done."

"Does it also help with mattresses?"

"Baking soda helps with everything, actually."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Love you."

What Eddie didn't expect was that his carpet wasn't brown at all, but actually rust red, and the spot treatment turned into a whole floor cleaning. He didn't even notice the time passing until suddenly Wayne was standing behind him.

"What are you doing?" the old man asked.

"Cleaning." was all Eddie explained.

"Since when are you doing that?"

"Since (y/n) wants to come. She helps me."

Wayne grinned. Figures. "Uh-huh... And how exactly is she helping you?"

"She wrote me a list.", Eddie shrugged, watching as the last corner of the floor turned red again.

Wayne looked at the list hanging on the door to the room. "I'm not getting in the way of this miracle.", he said, raising his hands defensively. "Maybe she'll write you a list for the kitchen sometime.", he grinned.

Eddie gave him a nasty glare and threw the brush at him. Wayne laughed before looking around the room.

It was all still messy, but progress could be seen. "Doing a good job... Keep it up." He patted him fatherly on the shoulder. "I'm sure she's proud of you."

Eddie sure hoped so.

It was another entire week until everything had found its way from the collection hamper back to its place and Eddie was ready to invite (Y/n). He had given it his all. Even his mattress was white again.

He stood nervously behind her as she stepped into his room for the first time.

"It's not perfect, but-"

"Eddie this looks good. Very good, in fact."

"Really?"

She put her arms around his neck and stroked his neck. "Eddie you did very well."

He exhaled in relief. "Thank you." he smiled.

"Your list really helped, and they never help me usually."

She smiled. "Well you always said that even with a list you like to forget half of it." He nodded. "So I thought I'd write down each action one by one. My clean-up to-dos don't really look much different."

"Well then... Welcome?" Eddie smiled and stretched his arms out to the side in a presenting gesture.

(Y/n) pulled him down by the head and kissed him. Eddie didn't miss the opportunity to deepen it and pull her to his bed.

"Don't get that bed dirty again. The boy scrubbed that mattress for three hours."

They both turned to Wayne in surprise.

"Nice to meet you." he turned to (Y/n). "You must be someone special if the boy is cleaning up for you."

"Uncle!" hissed Eddie.

"Uncle.", Wayne mimicked him in amusement.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were on shift."

Wayne held up the small metal can in his hand. "Forgot lunch."

He reached for the door handle. "It's none of my business what you're doing, so shut the door when you're... scrubbing."

"Wayne!"

"Don't wet yourself."

[smaller-comfort]

something something holiday spitroast *badum tss*

in which Aephorul gets collared and fucked stupid. I should probably revise the tags a bit more. some rambly notes under the cut.

Yolande is one of Resh'an's favorite students, but she roasts him mercilessly on the regular. if he rocked up to class ten minutes late looking like he just got out of a broom closet with B'st, he would never survive.

Resh'an teaches in the physics department because his phd research ended up being on quantum mechanics.

Yes, Aephorul has nipple piercings- he just never took his shirt off in the previous stories, and he didn't get them until after undergrad. (leave me alone, I already said this was self indulgent.) (he has them in outshine the sun, too.)

He *should* have thematically appropriate tattoos like Resh'an does, but I've waffled for too long on what the design should be. Tentacle arm sleeves would make the most sense, but the way I've built his character at this point makes that seem unlikely. And when I think about it too hard, I realize that no, he wouldn't have tattoos. He'd have a scarification leg sleeve. *sigh* I'm not describing that.

Resh'an's tattoos look a little like this. It is infuriating how difficult it is to find properly sourced and credited tattoo pics on the internet these days. His are mostly blackwork, with some color accents in red, violet, and gold.

Resh'an let his tongue piercing close up in part because it made blowjobs too complicated with Aephorul's prince albert, and in part because of the lecture he got from his dentist after several thousands of dollars worth of dental work while he was in grad school. (why? i ask myself this constantly.) He got the tattoos at some point after getting his phd.

I like to joke that under/badly negotiated kink is my kink, but when these characters are all supposed to be more or less functional adults who know what they're doing, I have to handwave some shit. And I really love negotiation as a tool for building characterization! but. I just want to write hot threesomes and not get bogged down in the details.

for example. in the original first draft, where the kitchen-table-fucking ends very very badly, there was no way to reasonably expect B'st to ever stick his dick in that level of crazy again. so, we pretend that everyone is being reasonable and communicative and like this won't blow up in someone's face in chapter 3. *coughs*

And, all that said, Aephorul and B'st don't actually interact much outside of what you see on the page. Aephorul lets Resh'an do 90% of the communicating, here.

I'm not writing about Aephorul's forays into self hypnosis/hypnodom stuff (it doesn't work on Resh'an, which was an enormous disappointment to him). but, like. they happen. I swear I'm not just trying to justify putting him in nonverbal, altered states of consciousness.

I feel like I've been promising Aephorul on a leash for too long without delivering, but pet play is a third date activity, at a minimum, so this is as close as you get in an ot3 story for now.

[soleadita]

another day another niche media that has crossed my dash because of u. who is sam why is he crashing and why does he look like a pathetically sad kicked puppy (huuuge huge huge fan of the gif of him w a bloody handprint on his face btw single best thing a guy can have)

CRASHING!!! SAM!!!!! i didn’t think i’d have that much to say but it turns out i did. sorry. mostly this is just barely coherent rambling.

(1) crashing is a british tv show from 2016ish. there are (regrettably) only about 6 episodes, i believe, and they’re SHORT. (i made @dauntingday watch it with me a few months ago and we accidentally just downed the entire thing in one evening after work. that’s how short it is.) it follows a group of like…20s+ people who all live together in an…abandoned hospital? or something? i’m not entirely clear on how the living situation works, and frankly that’s like the least important part i just tend to get bogged down in details when i try to talk about things. BASICALLY they all live together in a giant funky building, they don’t all know each other, they have disastrous dinner parties, they’re messy, they’re stupid, they’re brilliant, they’re super fucking weird, they’re awful to each other, they love each other, they take care of each other in weird ways…it’s like found family i guess but more in like a having-a-lot-of-cousins way. like some of them you’re really close with some of them you never really see some of them you can’t stand. but they’re all still your cousins.

(2) sam is like...i would like to throttle him i also would like to wrap him in a weighted blanket and give him a mug of hot tea. he's a lil homophobic he'll vehemently insist he's not gay he is actively pining after fred when fred gets a boyfriend sam makes it his personal mission to be a total dick about it (affectionate) and break them up. when i started writing this, i was like, "lol SAM how do i describe that little shit, he's so silly and funky and awful but in a cute way," and now i'm actively getting a little choked up about him and fred. im not gonna lie. and the fact that this whole dynamic is established in like...two hours? give or take? masterpiece. ANYWAY. "pathetically sad kicked puppy" is right you totally nailed it he's like the puppy that chews everything up INCLUDING HIS OWN TOYS HIS OWN BED HIS OWN FAVORITE BLANKET and then when he gets reprimanded for it and DOESN'T HAVE ANY OF HIS SHIT, he goes into "pathetically sad kicked puppy" mode. I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT HIM I DON'T THINK IM EXPRESSING THEM RIGHT BUT I THINK YOU'LL GET IT ANYWAY.

(3) i regret to inform you that wasn't a bloody handprint on his face, it was paint. :(

[dillweedshole]

A really fucking big post entirely about Karrie and (most of) my history with her

i feel like i've rarely touched my ocs in ages so here's one about my favourite. this one's got a hell of a developmental story.

(it's big enough to warrant a Read More lmao)

This is Karrie. You've probably seen her, you may or may not like her, i don't care, i like her. The big fucking thing behind her is also her, that's her Monarch form.

So how shocked would you be if I told you this is how she started?:

Yuck. Gross. This was EARLY 2021 I absolutely COULD do better than that. Let's not talk about the MSPaint Line Tool lineart and instead talk about how she acted. She was a woman. No, there really isn't that much more, I went back and read through my first canned series and I shit you not she really is just super fucking boring.

V2 was still bog-standard basic ol' Karrie. Just, y'know, now the art is a little better. She's still the same fucking woman but now she's just not.. Yuck, y'know?

Now, one day for Lex I made him an alternate 'Twisted' form. I decided "well, damn, i'm bored" and made one up for Karrie. I had plans for lore revolving around Lex's form but Karrie's was to be completely non-canon.

See? Even in late 2021 I was bad at listening to myself.

This is Twisted Karrie. Believe it or not, I don't know how she would act. This and one other drawing are the only ones with this exact design.

The plans were still in effect, I was not going to give her any canonicity whatsoever, this was just me dicking around. .. And then my friend Numi drew this;

(image link: https://www.deviantart.com/cuteario-numi/art/Creepy-twisted-Karrie-888840902)

And then something clicked. Obviously she's a better artist than me, let's not call an orange an apple, that shit slaps does it not??

So i decided to do something to the design because i didn't know where to go with the original one, and i took a couple bits and pieces from what she made here.

Twisted 2.0. Give her arms more beef, puff out that dress, elongate the hair, make her eyes big gaping holes, and make her mouth all melty and tear-y.

Honestly, this was good enough for me at the time. just enough cool but not too much that it became stupid to draw.

Not many more changes happened to Karrie after twisted for a while, she was just gonna be normal woman with dark secret!!

(i also redid the one drawing numi did with the new look.)

And then one day, i just decided to add a single little point of lore, that her Base form should look like the Twisted form is kinda leaking into it, and drew her with that in mind.

We can now see current Karrie peeking out.

This set a spark something fucking FIERCE after that one tidbit she's never been the same.

I spent a good like two months refining the design, she had a small phase where she looked like she had absolutely zero fucking self control.

This was also when I introduced an bigger lore tidbit: Her trainer dies. That's the smoking gun for her going Twisted/Monarch.

You can clearly see that I struck fucking GOLD with the story details, eventually I just decided to calm her down a bunch and now we're about where we are now.

At least for Base Karrie. Let's go back to Twisted for a second.

For a little while she was a little stagnant. I didn't change a whole lot for a while.

Then not long after I finally made Base Karrie good, I decided "how about her Twisted form look like her Base a little more."

I think this was around when I changed "Twisted" to "Feral." That name change also changed her behavior a LOT. She went from "Scared, Defensive Demon" to "Malicious, Cunty Demon" and that's about where Feral should've been.

The only big visual change was really in the hair. She stayed like this for a couple months.

I was drawing for Powerless and i think at some point i decided "Well. That dress fucking sucks. Let's change it."

For a while this was still Feral, but this is basically Monarch as we know it now.

And uh, That's about it. You can definitely SEE my art getting better throughout each design, too.

She's gone from "Woman Side Character" to "Bad Bitch Main Character" especially considering lore.

I can definitely try doing one for Lex, he's had a relatively decent history too, but Karrie's had the most remarkable mixup of any of my characters (asides from her trainer dying lmao gotem ez).

[ajscico]

12, 18, 22 for the writing ask game

12 Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

Most of my fics start from an emotion or a scene I see clear as day. Then I have to build the fic around them. For this reason… outlines start and get abandoned if the plot demands it. Take Meet Sky for example. I started the plot with the idea of Sky passing out after a battle being *the scene* and then started with “Well, maybe I’ll do an 8+1” but then it was really hard to come up with something for all 8 of the chain. And I really only wanted a couple scenes like the scars thing, or the curse reveal. So I tried for a 5+1 and things that were stalling being written like the discussion on Impa got cut. and a scene with Sky taking care of the others like they helped him got cut because it didn’t fit the pattern and… well that’s the bulk of Meet Sky.

18 Do you enjoy research?  Which fic of yours required the most research?

I enjoy research to a point and on my own terms. In writing Untamed Wild, I did a stupid amount of research on locations in BOTW and the monsters and hazards there. I also got to do research on items for the Chain and abilities they’d have. And that was fun.

The problem is when research isn’t easily done and I can’t get it from the Zelda Wiki or asking my two siblings who have played and completed several Zelda games (To my shame, I still haven’t finished one yet. Though I’ve started four of them) I get bogged down and frustrated.

22 Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process?  How do you come up with titles?

I loathe coming up with titles. Titles are 9 times out of 10 the last thing I come up with and I rarely like them even after publishing the fics. How do you people do this?!

[knowyourbmovieactors]

OCTOBER HORROR MOVIES 2023 #5 I SEE YOU

For some reason that only the algorithm gods understand, this 2019 film was listed as the #1 most searched movie on Netflix the day I watched it in 2023. I'm guessing that it prompted a lot of further Google searches for "phrogging" (which I will get to later). It can be roughly divided into thirds, with big twists signaling our headlong slam into each different part. I did not like this film and do not think the sanctity of its many stupid twists should be preserved. If you're worried about spoilers, then turn back now, for I am going to spoil every single one of those twists.

The first third plays out like a bog standard thriller where cops are searching for a serial killer. In this case, it's the sudden disappearance of two young boys under circumstances that look oddly similar to a spree from 15 years prior, for which someone was already convicted. We meet our tired, doughy, too-old-for-this-shit detectives as they amble about searching for clues. In the meantime, one of the tired, doughy cops (the white one) is having marital problems, because his wife cheated on him, and their moody teenage son is being all moody about it. On top of that, weird things keep happening in their house (side rant: how the hell can a cop and a therapist afford that giant-ass mansion with an ocean view?!), which the camera work strongly implies is of some kind of supernatural origin.

But, forget all that ghost stuff, because 45 minutes into the film we take a wild left turn to watch everything we just saw again, except this time from the viewpoint of a pair of "phroggers" that have been secretly living in the house. (If you didn't Google "phrogging" already, it is explained as the practice of "hopping from pad to pad", occupying space in an otherwise occupied home without the occupants knowing about it). The weird shit that was implied to be supernatural? Nah, it was just those two. What do they have to do with the serial killer plot, and why should we care?

Well, twist number two ushers us into section three: the tired, doughy cop (the white one) in the overly large house was the serial killer all along, and now our phroggers have to stop him! And just when you're starting to question the whole setup and saying to yourself, "Well, it's awfully damn convenient for the plot that they chose this house, of all houses, to occupy", we get the surprise twist ending: one of the phroggers was actually a survivor of the tired, doughy serial killer whose wife cheated on him, and this was all an overly elaborate plot to finally expose him.

I get the sense that the screenwriter must be awfully pleased with himself for being able to jam all these disparate parts together; but if you think about anything in this movie for more than thirty seconds, all you're left with is "What? Why?" Why was there a whole subplot about infidelity and marriage drama, when it had absolutely no bearing on the plot in the end? Why was the other tired, old detective introduced as such a major character when he does almost nothing at all? Why did the phrogging dude enact this giant, convoluted plan when he'd had fifteen years to tell literally any lawyer or investigator or parent or even remotely responsible adult, "I know exactly who kidnapped me as a child, and it's that cop right there." Why place so much attention on the wife (played by Helen Hunt, whose talent is entirely wasted here) and her fragile emotional state, if you're going to basically ditch her from the movie after the first third is over? Why is the camera constantly panning slowly down the hallways of this house, lovingly framing all the pristine architectural details like it's a virtual home showing, when the house isn't actually a meaningful metaphor for anything that happens? Why does all the music in the first half of the movie sound like it was ripped out of Skyrim?

The answer to all of those questions (except the last one) is that the filmmakers got bogged down in the mission of trying to surprise us with all the twists. A good plot twist still plays by the rules previously established in the movie and throws previous scenes into new light. A bad plot twist breaks the structure of the movie you've been watching and requires a certain amount of contrivance to glue it back together. I See You has so many clumsy attempts at twists that you're pretty much watching the shards of two or three movies floating in a thick jelly of contrivance.

[m4rloe5]

ALL of themm?? Hoo boy! They are my boys my bastards my baby birds and I'm sooooo normal about them I promise!

Put it under the cut because it's late I have to get up early so naturally this might get long and I feel weird about clogging up the dash

IN CHRONILOGICAL ORDER:

Charlie van der Ploeg

Art by @mmigrainee

Absolute nervous WRECK of a man! My Sweet boy, my cream cheese, my first vtm character. Nosferatu (obviously). This boy is stupid smart. He's got severe anxiety and a fair dose of autism probably. Growing up he was always the odd one out and never really fit in anywhere. His dad wasn't great with him, though not for a lack of trying, but he was just too neurotypical to properly Get him, so he was very close to his mom who dealt with his autism a lot better. Until she died in a car crash when charlie was 6. It happens. The only other person of his family who really Got him was his (identical) twin brother Lex, so the two boys only grew closer. Infuriatingly though, Lex has FANTASTIC people skills, which was very frustrating because no matter how hard Charlie tried he was always Odd. So he got into computers instead because they did not judge him, and got crazy good with them.

Charlie got so crazy good with them in fact that he hacked his way into uni, and for a while everything was good. He rented a small place under a drag parlour in Amsterdam, and though he was still A Bit Weird the girls did not mind him at all. Charlie started experimenting with gender expression a bit with their help because after he dropped out of uni again (he got bored, it just wasn't challenging enough for someone with his skill) it wasn't as if anyone was gonna see him in his dank basement anyway. Started hacking companies and selling them fixes for their security breach as a facsimile of ethical hacking, but not without taking copies of potentially sensitive information regarding any malpractice should he ever need to pressure corrupt CEOs or something into doing the right thing for the world. Almost succeeded in hacking into the German national bank, which is when he caught the attention of the local Nosferatu...

He was embraced on Halloween after he complimented a girl on her scary makeup.

Everything only went downhill from there: he could never meet the only person he truly cared about ever again without breaking the masquerade, and now his own face was that of a stranger. He was now forced to deepfake video calls to his dad and stepmom using his brother's selfies. Safe to say Charlie is not ever having a good time and hates being a vampire

And only two months later he is asked to infiltrate and spy on a disaster of a coterie that is trying to deal with not one but two potential threats to the masquerade, and whatever he does, it never seems good enough. He and Willow hatch a plan to try and kill the vampire responsible for trying to blood bind willows touchstone, which fails spectacularly when a literal nazi declares Praxis and said vampire is appointed his senechal. Charlie fights a nervous breakdown and scatters, for he no longer has any use to the new Prince, and he would rather not meet final death at the Seneschal's hand. That, and the intensity on that game was so bad I was losing whole night's sleep over them. Immense respect for everyone at that table just doing that for fun to tell a story together

MISHA MARKOV

Art by #crowned BIG GUY. Bear gangrel. Probably the favourite character I've ever played. He's very happy go lucky and does his best to be kind because there's enough suffering in the world, but also refuses to feel guilty whenever he accidentally murders a guy. That happens to the best of us, and you can lose yourself in the details of morality or you can just move on and not let yourself get bogged down by it. The less guilt, the more he can pay attention to things that really matter: love and alcohol

This man has an intensely long backstory but the TLDR is: born 1942 in the soviet union. Dad was a war veteran and a prick, Misha may or may not have killed him after he dared lay a hand on his little sister. Mother struggled to take care of him and his sister both after. Misha was then drafted at 18, was trained as a sniper as well as special forces probably and stationed at checkpoint charlie, where his conscience made him desert his post and try to flee west. Was intercepted by sabbat, stood his own against a gangrel and got embraced.

His sire intended to send Misha to the local cam and have him kamikaze himself, but this man is not the brightest tool in the shed so he got caught and staked and got stored on a cave system several hundred miles away to stop his sire from reclaiming him, where the poor guy was promptly forgotten for the next 55 years. Eventually he was found and defrosted and assigned a coterie.

The coterie ventrue had ambition and after several shenanigans declared praxis. The current prince didn't like that very much and tried to kill her, but she was now Misha's friend/family and family must be protected at all cost, so he ate a prince once and lived to twll the tale. Misha himself was not interested in a position in the new court, but did need some protection/looking after so her got assigned the honourary title of royal tailor, which he still is to this day

Misha has a close friend called Nancy who depending on who you ask is also his girlfriend, but they like to keep it casual. Pretty sure Misha is aromantic, but very allosexual (probably of the bi-/pansexual variety), and is completely under the impression that physical affection like kissing is just something you do with all your homies (this includes sex). Can and will turn into a bear to give extra fluffy hugs.

HEMMING

Art pending

Absolute bastard. Tzimisce con artist that loves to play at being Hannibal Lecter. Has the eat food merit solely because he wants to be able to use the whole carcass die his culinary masterpieces

Annnnd I'm dozimg off already so I might finish this later

Hi happy birthday we don't know each other but I hear you know and love my step blorbo Willow (correct opinion) so may I offer you my vamires Charlie, Misha, or Hemming on this anniversary of your birth? HAPPY BIRHDAY)

Thankie <3

I wish to hear about all of them!!

[somedaylazysomeday]

Experiment

Tech x fem!reader. Reader is a member of the Bad Batch. When Tech gets a little cocky, you try to take him down a bit with a bet about concentration in tricky circumstances...

Rating: NC-17, explicit, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,500

Warnings: betting, handjob, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected piv, brief cockwarming, creampie

Next | Masterlist

The sound of a group of troopers walking past the Havoc Marauder was loud in the hush of the hangar. They weren’t in a hurry, either, laughing loudly and disturbing you as you worked to fix an overly particular piece of electronic hardware.

You tuned the distraction out with some additional effort, touching the delicate wire that transferred information from the electronic to the ship when it was plugged in. This was the most high-stress part of this particular repair, the segment that was the easiest to mess up. The wire could be replaced, but not without creating a lot more work for the poor soul sentenced to perform the task.

“I bet I can!” a trooper insisted loudly, emphasizing his point by punching an armored fist into the side of the Marauder.

The loud, echoing bang made you jump, pushing the tool through the wire. You swore loudly, throwing your tool at the interior side of the place where the fist had hit. “Are you kriffing serious?!”

Your loud demand must have startled the group of soldiers, because the only reply was a muffled, “Sorry!” followed by the sounds of a group of armor-clad troopers rushing out of the hangar.

“Are you okay?” Tech asked, looking concerned.

You and Tech were alone on the Havoc Marauder, docked in a hangar on a Republic-controlled mid-Rim planet. The other members of the Bad Batch had gone to resupply rations, ammunition, and other necessities while you and Tech - the only ones with the patience for such particular work - made repairs to the ship.

“No!” you complained in answer to Tech’s question. “I broke the stupid wire!”

Understanding crossed Tech’s face, visible even under his ever-present goggles, and he shook his head at you. “You must be able to keep your focus, no matter what else is going on.”

Tech was a genius, genetically designed to display extreme intelligence. He was smart, but he was also clever, displaying a sense of logic and awareness uncommon in people so bogged down by details. You could normally ignore the times when his intelligence crossed a line into patronization, but something about his admonishment today rubbed you the wrong way.

“I can keep my focus,” you insisted, nettled. “But there are some things that are too distracting! Everyone has their limits.”

“Hmmph,” Tech replied eloquently, still working on the repair he had been performing the whole time. “I do not, but I understand it may be a problem that impacts those without enhanced mental capabilities.”

He didn’t look up at you, so he didn’t see the offended gape your mouth had fallen into at that. “Why do you always have to be so condescending?”

“I do not see it as condescension,” Tech told you. “I’m merely informing you, though I can see where you may have become confused.”

“Oh, I’m not confused about anything,” you bit out, voice sharp. “I am very well aware that you have an artificially elevated opinion of your own abilities.”

“Technically, my opinion of my abilities could not be artificially elevated, even if it were untrue,” he lectured, adjusting his goggles as he moved into the final stages of the repair. “It would be a delusion. However, I am not deluded. My skills where intelligence is concerned - including focus - far outstrip yours.”

And that was exactly the problem with Tech. He was a good soldier, an extremely clever man, and utterly reliable as a member of the Bad Batch. You were a big enough person to admit that you found him attractive. Something about his intellect, the way he moved, how good he was with his hands… But then there were times like these when his lack of interpersonal skills just got on your nerves.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered.

Tech finally glanced up at you, looking surprised. “I don’t mean to offend you. I am just stating the facts.”

“Everyone has a threshold where they lose the ability to focus, Tech. Even you.”

He scoffed. “If that is true for me, I have never come close to reaching it. It is safe to assume that the threshold in question either does not exist or is so high that it is inconsequential.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” you asked, sensing an opportunity. “You fix the wire I just broke and I’ll try to distract you.”

Tech raised an eyebrow at you. “I feel the need to remind you that I have been on a team with Wrecker for several years. If I can work with him trying to distract me, I doubt you’ll provide much of a challenge. Though I can easily replace the wire for you. It requires a certain level of understanding of the electronic component that I possess.”

“Nope, we’re doing this,” you insisted, bothered again by his most recent self-aggrandizing statement. “You replace the wire, I’ll try to distract you, and we’ll see who wins.”

“We have more important things on which to focus than betting-” Tech started.

You interrupted, playing the card you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist: “Consider it an experiment.”

Tech paused, finally looking intrigued. “What are the specifics of this agreement?”

“You give an estimate of how long it would take you to fix the wire in an environment that has an average level of distraction,” you proposed. “I’ll try to distract you more than that. If you get the repair done at or under your estimated time, you win. If it takes longer, I win.”

“That leaves far too much room for foul play,” Tech objected. “For instance, what if I just stunned you? That would significantly improve my time. Or what if you hid my goggles? That would make the task take much longer, even if I refused to search for them.”

“Stars, Tech,” you said slowly. “I’m not going to hide your goggles and I would hope you wouldn’t stun me over something so stupid. I’ll keep my distractions to ones that won’t impact your ability to do the job. Nothing about your eyesight or ability to use your hands. If you beat your time, I’ll never question your intellectual superiority again. And if you stun me, we’ll just say I win.”

“I thought this was an experiment?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you agreed. “Then we’ll say the experiment supported my hypothesis rather than yours.”

Tech’s eyes glinted with an unreadable light. “Agreed.”

“Wait, hold on,” you hedged. Those examples hadn’t sprung from nothing. Did Tech really think you were going to bully him with this? “You have to tell me what you don’t want me to do. Hard limits, things that are an absolute no.”

“I don’t have any stipulations, other than the ones we already discussed,” Tech dismissed.

“Really?” you asked, skeptical. “And if I decided the best way to distract you would be to treat you the same way I’d treat any other man I wanted to distract?”

Tech didn’t understand what you were saying, not until you cast a pointed glance down at his crotch. Then he laughed, not remotely the reaction you had expected from him.

“I still believe I could keep my concentration,” he told you.

“You can’t be serious.” You shook your head at him. “You really think you’d be able to do delicate work on an electronic if I was jerking you off?”

“Yes,” Tech answered simply.

“You’re on,” you snapped, tossing him your chronometer. “Put your time estimate in on the timer function. I’ll even be nice and bring you everything you’ll need.”

In minutes, you were both set up and ready to go. You had wordlessly retrieved the bottle of lube from the Marauder’s storage closet. Everyone had laughed when it showed up among a group of similarly-colored bottles of shampoo, but no one had thrown it away. Now, it looked like it would finally be used.

“Starting the timer in three… two… one…” Tech counted down.

You had settled onto the floor beside his work station, sitting on a pillow you had placed between your butt and the cold durasteel ground. As Tech pressed the button that started the timer and immediately started working on the electronic, you set to work as well.

His body glove unsnapped at the crotch - a convenient means to get started. You fished inside the small gap you had made, gently coaxing Tech’s cock out into the open. A dab of lube warmed between your palms gave your grip just enough slide to work down his shaft without too much friction.

Tech’s only reaction to you fondling his private parts was to give a slight shift in his seat. You were sitting too low to watch him work, but you could hear his hands moving steadily above your head.

Since you were so close to it anyway, you studied Tech’s cock between passes of your hand. He was limp right now, his pale skin unbelievably soft. The hair around the base of him was colorless and neatly trimmed, but thick. Your hands reveled in the feeling of him, even as he stayed soft.

There was a quiet snick! above your head and Tech said, “The broken wire has been detached.”

That was only the beginning of the repair process, but Tech had still announced it with a certain sense of pride. More interesting, his cock gave the slightest stir.

“Do you get off when you fix things?” you asked, unsurprised when Tech didn’t answer you. “Or maybe it’s just the idea of winning against me. Do you like being better than me at something?”

Tech still didn’t reply, but his cock gained some color and you laughed in delight. “You do! Hey, everyone’s got a kink, right? Besides…” you paused to stroke your hand from his base to his tip and back down to cradle his balls where they were still tucked inside his undersuit. He shifted his weight again. “You’re very nice to look at. I mean, all of you is, but your cock is a pleasant surprise. It’s lovely.”

You began pumping him in earnest, encouraged by the way he was hardening beneath your grip. When you added a gentle twist to your motion and stopped to thumb the slit of his head, his hips shifted on the seat. It wasn’t the first time he had moved that way, but something caught your attention: there had been a thrust hidden in that motion, a stuttered push of his hips as he settled back to a seat.

Tech had yet to make a single noise, but a glance upward showed that his teeth were clenched. In fact, they were clenched so hard that his jaw had formed an even sharper line than usual. You desperately wanted to lick the edge of his jaw, but you couldn’t interfere with his line of sight.

So instead, you contented yourself with darting out a quick lick to the underside of his head.

The resulting sharp burst of Mando’a above your head was impossible to decipher, but the tone made it clear that it had been a curse.

In your most innocent voice, you asked, “Everything okay, Tech?”

“I thought you were just going to use your hands?” he replied, voice tight.

“I go where the mood takes me,” you replied enigmatically, but returned to regular pulls with your hands… until he dropped his guard, then you enveloped the head of his cock in the moist heat of your mouth.

Tech swore again, his knee jerking so hard that it connected with the underside of his work station. You sucked gently on him, pulling back until his head reappeared from between your lips with a faint pop.

“Trouble concentrating?”

Tech growled at you, the sound doing unexpected things to the suddenly-throbbing flesh between your legs. “I am fine. I’m roughly halfway through the replacement process and on track to finish well under my estimated time.”

“Then I guess I’d better ramp up my efforts,” you told him.

Tech grumbled, returning his attention to the electronic component with an air of intensity. He pointedly placed both elbows on the table, rotating so it would be harder for you to torment him with your mouth, but you were undeterred.

You took your pillow along as you crawled under the table, positioning yourself between his legs. After a second spent admiring the picture of Tech’s hard cock standing up against the black material covering his stomach, you leaned in, holding him in place as you licked along his balls.

The jerking of Tech’s legs was stronger this time, but he managed to keep from hitting the table. You happily mapped the space between his legs, using your lube-covered hands to toy with the sensitive spot where the head of Tech’s cock met the shaft.

A hoarse groan over your head was music to your ears, but also served as a signal. You pulled away, leaving him completely untouched. There was no sound above you, his work appearing to have paused entirely. Then, carefully, you drew in a deep breath and blew a stream of cool air over him, from the weeping tip of his cock all the way down his shaft, ending with his balls.

Tech shivered, his cock straining against his stomach then. “Cold?” you murmured, voice pitched so low that it almost sounded like you were talking to the cock instead of its owner.

You held him firmly, taking the rest of the length into your mouth until your lips met your hand. His head was almost far back enough to make you gag, but you fought the impulse. You hummed a bit, just as if to say, “That’s better,” but Tech’s hips bucked at the vibrations. Armed with a new weapon, you hummed determinedly, smirking to yourself as it turned into the tune of a popular song on the GAR’s radio network. Tech had hated the song, but from the moan above you, he may have changed his mind.

Tech’s hand hunted blindly under the edge of the table, settling in your hair before giving a gentle tug. “Unless you want me to come down your throat, you need to stop.”

You worked your way back up his shaft, teasing your fingers along his sac all the while. “That’s not a very good threat, Tech. It sounds delightful to me. Unless you’d rather come inside of me?”

He didn’t say anything, but the way his hand tightened in your hair spoke volumes, especially when paired with the way his hips gave an involuntary little thrust.

“All of this for a bet?” Tech asked carefully.

“An experiment,” you corrected. “And no. I’ve wanted to do this for a while. But if you don’t want to…”

“I do want to,” he interrupted quickly. “Come up here so we can talk.”

You obliged, sliding out from under the table so that you could see him while he spoke.

“What are the specifics of this agreement?” he asked, parroting his question from earlier. Knowing him and his prized memory, it was far from accidental.

You pretended to think about it. “Well, there’s not really a way that I won’t impede your view…”

“Hold on,” Tech ordered.

In a moment, he had configured his desk higher, dropping one of the seats from the side of the Marauder as you watched, impressed despite yourself. He had created a setup that would let him be buried in you, working at a standing desk above your head.

“Works for me,” you said with a shrug. “You keep doing the repairs and I’ll keep distracting you.”

“Agreed,” Tech said.

You peeled off the lower half of your clothes and took a quick moment to lube yourself up - despite how wet you were already. Tech watched, enraptured, and you only just had time to think about how you may be able to run out the clock just letting him watch you finger yourself… but then Tech snapped back to his senses.

With a gesture at the seat, he said, “Get settled. I’m running short on time.”

For some reason, the order made you tighten and you rested your elbows on the seat. When Tech had finished adjusting the desk to the correct height, he found your bare ass pointed back toward him.

“This is the position you want?” he asked.

“Tech, sweetie,” you purred back at him, “I’m gonna need to move.”

Tech bit back a noise, but you heard it anyway. He stepped up to the desk, his hard cock smearing precum along one of your ass cheeks. You reached back between your legs and slotted him into place, feeding him into you.

It took a second to figure out the motion. You weren’t used to walking backward to impale yourself on a cock, but you had him buried in you after a short trial session. For a moment, you just stood there. Tech was as deep as you could get him, and cock warming was plenty distracting, from what you had heard.

Bent over the seat with his length pressed as far as it could be, you amused yourself by seeing how many ways you could flex your muscles around him. It was an inexact science, but you managed a new dimension when you pressed fingers to your clit. The resulting ripple made you gasp and you heard one of Tech’s tools clatter to the table above you as he scrabbled to pick it up.

You let your fingers wander, exploring how your folds were stretched so intensely around Tech’s cock. But then your forefinger brushed the base of him and Tech’s hips gave a helpless little thrust, impaling himself deeper into your heat. It was too much, and you started moving.

You alternately clawed closer to the seat and used it to propel yourself backward, repeating the gesture as you fucked yourself on Tech’s length. Short whimpers were driven from you with every stroke of him inside you, your wetness only barely managing to counteract how tight you were around him. It was a lot just on a physical level, and when you added in the fact that you had wanted this for so long, and the feelings of depravity you got from being fucked under a literal desk…

Well, no wonder that a single brush of your fingers over your clit left you convulsing around him.

Tech made a choked sound as you started to squeeze. He grasped your hips with both hands, tools were forgotten entirely as he directed all of his attention to driving into you. His angle was much better than yours, letting him thrust deeper, harder, and faster. The sensations drew out your orgasm, stretching it until your knees were shaking and your breath was coming in sobs broken by the force of his cock in you.

“Where do you want me to come?” he asked, urgency tightening his voice.

“Inside,” you said dazedly. “Implant.”

Tech’s cry was clearly muffled behind his teeth, but clear all the same, an audible badge of honor. All you could hear was him - the slap of wet flesh, the squelch of his last thrusts through your combined wetness, the small moans both of you were giving… All of it echoed around the inside of the Havoc Marauder, ringing until you were deaf to everything except the sounds of your pleasure.

Tech finally released you, staggering until he dropped. You glanced back, unable to gather the strength to do much more than that. He had sat down heavily behind you, cock streaked with his own cum and softening in his lap. His begoggled eyes were locked between your legs.

“My only regret,” he murmured, tracing a finger over your sensitive entrance while you shuddered. “I should have stopped to look more closely.”

“You were running low on time,” you reminded him, managing speech after a moment.

“Kark the time,” he said. “I am now four minutes over my estimate and I am very well pleased with the way things worked out.”

“I won?” you asked, perking up slightly.

“Your hypothesis was supported,” he corrected grudgingly.

“Thank the Force,” you muttered, wincing as you settled to rest your weight further back toward your heels. “Are you going to make me think up a hypothesis to prove every time I want to do this with you?”

“You would want to do this again?” Tech asked, sounding stunned by that.

“Of course,” you told him, rubbing at the raw place on your elbow where you had balanced your weight during the last part of your session. “Though maybe in a more comfortable place.”

“Anywhere, any time, hypothesis or no,” Tech promised. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why not?” you asked cheekily. “We’ve done everything else.”

Tech rolled his eyes, but leaned in to kiss you anyway, his lips soft against yours. The electronic component was forgotten entirely, sitting unrepaired until much later.

---

A/N - a little early for Tech Tuesday, but here we are.

Thanks for reading!

[saijspellhart]

okay I hope I don't sound rude and annoying, but if I ask you, "hey it seems like you haven't updated in awhile, and I was wondering of you were doing okay?" Are you alright with that? I just don't want to seem pushy in a sense and be all "update pls update update update" ya know

Love your fics and art, they are amazing! You've really inspired me to be a better artist and writer. Hope you have a great day/night

Hi hi! It’s alright to check in and see how I’m doing. I don’t mind that at all.

So my lack of updates has mostly been due to creative burnout. I took on a lot of commissions last year (a lot for me) and it really burnt me out as far as drawing goes and creating in general. So I ended up taking a hiatus from everything, and just chilling.

Which was a fortunate move because the last six months have been wild for me in terms of real life stuff. Like so many major issues keep sprouting up in my real life, and draining all my desire to create. To distract myself from real life probs and stresses I’ve been playing a lot of Pokémon, (I love the 3DS Pokémon games.) and watching a lot of movies.

In the interest of not bogging everyone down with my life woes I’m not gonna go into detail. Just, shit keeps happening and I’m weathering every blow of that storm. So instead I’ll tell you about some happy-ish things.

On a happy note, my little bro is coming to live with me. (Which preparations are a little stressful, but are also so exciting) I haven’t had consistent or reliable contact with my little bros in years, so this will be an amazing chance to get to know one of them. So excited.

My husband, Zack, has been a force of unending support and love and just… everything. No matter what has been thrown at us he’s been right there beside me finding solutions and working through it. Probably the best partner I could have ever asked for. And a big fucking sweetheart.

I might get promoted at work? Which I guess is nice, but also I don’t feel like I’m ready for it yet. So I’m scared. Work makes me feel dumb. Because learning insurance is hard, and I’ve never had an office job, and I learn from doing things myself and repetition. But also my memory is on par with a sea slug. I dunno. I both love and feel I intimidated by my job, and feel hella intimidated by the prospect of a promotion. I’ll have to learn so many new and complicated things. Lots more moments of feeling stupid in my horizon.

So yeah, just… a lot. I suppose the best answer is I’m not doing great?? But I’m also not in a major pickle. Nothing I cannot handle. I suppose the easiest thing to say is I’m weathering a life storm and simultaneously healing my creativity.

Thanks for the ask. And I hope my answer wasn’t too exhausting and wordy.

PS: I’m so honored to have been an inspiration to you! It means the world that my works can inspire others. Thank you so so much. ❤️

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Ian Malcolm

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(When I tell you I love this man.)

- You and Ian meet when you attend the same STEM related conference; though it would be more accurate to say that you met while you attended a conference that he was lecturing at. 

- Nevertheless, you were both in the same room and wound up interfacing before the meeting was over; an interaction that would lead to a very interesting and at times exasperating relationship. 

- You found him fascinating; just like pretty much everyone else in the crowd, someone who had a big, entertaining personality in a field that so often lacked personality. You liked him the minute he opened his mouth. 

- He, in turn, thought that you were gorgeous and found himself falling for you the minute he locked eyes on you. He was looking forward to the moment he could slink off stage and find a way to talk to you. He did so right after he finished his speech and the applause settled down.

- He artfully found his way through the crowd and managed to convince the person beside you to switch their seat, taking it for himself after the starry eyed boy got up. 

- The two of you sat in silence for a little while before he leaned over and introduced himself, shaking your hand for a lingering moment before you both turned your attention back to the stage. 

- Another beat of silence passed between you before he leaned over and murmured a funny comment to you, reveling in the way you tried to hold back your smile. You spent the rest of the meeting trying to stifle your laughter as your new ironic commentator continued his jokes and flirtation. It certainly made the conference more enjoyable. 

- Once the shows over and everyone begins to clear out, he asks if you’re doing anything before asking if you’d like to go out and grab a couple of drinks or talk someplace. 

- That's how you find yourself seated next to him at the bar of a nice little restaurant, listening to him explain the chaos theory in detail and trying your best to digest everything that he’s saying; along with your drinks. 

- Along with his mathematical explanations, he also provides a lot of compliments and flirtation. You spend the evening feeling like the most important and sought after woman in the world

- Since you could easily; and very accurately, consider that little get together to be your first date, let’s move on to your first kiss. 

- It’s a date or two later that the two of you share it. You don’t want to give in too easily; even if you want to kiss him a lot sooner, so you play coy until you cant take it any more and the moment feels perfectly right. 

- Perfectly right seems to mean the middle of your kitchen after you invited him in for some coffee but hey, to each their own. 

- Nevertheless, you’d invited him into your home after one of your dates and gone to your kitchen to get the two of you your drinks. He’d followed you in and when you handed him his cup of coffee, he’d leaned in, pressed his lips to yours and given you a soft kiss.

- When he pulled away, he smiled at you, raised his mug, and gave you a somewhat teasing thank you before he lead the way into your living room. 

- One mug lead to another and you've been staying up late with each other ever since. 

- Ian suffers from a deplorable need to constantly be touching you. On top of that, he really isn’t too preoccupied with how other people feel so Pda is very common and performed very shamelessly.

- His arm is usually wrapped around you in some way, whether it be draped across the back of your chair, wrapped around your shoulders, or haphazardly thrown in front of you while a T. Rex is charging towards you.

- Tight hugs; which usually means that you’re being somewhat picked up since he’s so goddamn tall.

- Having your hair played with; oftentimes while he uses his flirtation on you.

- Knee squeezes. His hand belongs to your knee whenever he can’t wrap his arm around you.

- He loves cheek kisses. He loves the sort of showing off feel of them whenever you’re in front of someone else; and he just loves how soft and sweet they are.

- Slow, passionate kisses.

- Oftentimes, you wind up sleeping in the crook of his arm; usually with your head resting against his chest. That being said, the two of you also just cuddle haphazardly, snuggling in any which way you can, your limbs entangled and your bodies relaxed.

- He tends to call you honey or baby but, considering the fact that he calls his daughter Queen, my goddess and my inspiration, there’s room for a few more over dramatic pet names in your relationship.

- Waking up together. Ian's a math professor so, depending on both your schedules, you’re usually getting up around the same time. Although, if you get up earlier than he has to, he’d definitely; somewhat begrudgingly, adapt to your schedule.

- The two of you are attached at the hip a lot of the time. If you choose to go somewhere, he’s bound to follow; whether that be to keep you safe or just because he enjoys spending time with you is anyone’s guess.

- Working on separate things while you’re together. Sometimes couples just want to be in the same room while they do their own thing and I think that’s beautiful.

- Going shopping together. He’s a fan of clothes shopping, groceries, not so much.

- He likes trying out new things and going to all those different places that pop up in town so the two of you visit a lot of new restaurants and shops.

- Going out to dinner at nice restaurants. He’s the Rockstar of the math community so of course he’d want to take you to a few high end places; whenever he could afford it that is.

- Traveling around the world together. Whenever he has to go somewhere, he likes taking you with him.

- Being in the crowds of his conferences and public appearances. You like cheering him on and he appreciates the fact that you’re always there for him; even if he doesn’t necessarily need the support.

- Ian isn’t the greatest at keeping his word and he can get really caught up in his work to the point where he forgets important things, but he does always try his best to make things up to you whenever he can.

- Becoming close with Kelly. She enjoys living with you when her mother can’t be bothered and Ian’s bogged down by work. He loves both his girls dearly so the fact that you get along with each other is very important to him.

- You get to use the fact that you’re with Kelly as an excuse to go do stupid and somewhat childish things like visiting arcades and county fairs. Not that you couldn’t do that without her but I think you know what I mean.

- Movie nights; usually with him and Kelly.

- Museum dates.

- He genuinely thinks that your weird interests and quirks are endearing and fascinating. Other people would consider them strange, Ian considers them to be a compelling part of your personality.

- Seeing you talk about things that you’re passionate about is one of his favorite things in the world. He thinks that drive to learn and do and the intelligence that you possess is extremely sexy.

- Sometimes he’ll just look at you like he wants to eat you alive and it’s extremely problematic. Sir, we are in public.

- Lots of flirting. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, he still enjoys making you flustered and treating you like the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

- Unnecessary and frankly disrespectful noises. If he doesn’t stop making salacious growls at you, you’re gonna have to act up.

- Letting him explain all his different theories and findings to you. He loves showing off and having your undivided attention.

- Breaking rules together. If you aren’t keen on doing so, he’d definitely tease you for being a goody goody.

- He carries around a flask most of the time so the two of you can always just park somewhere and drink together whenever you feel like. Some of your best memories take place in his car, passing around a little metal container and talking about nothing in particular.

- Sarcasm drips from this mans every pore so you should try to get used to it. As annoying as it can be, it does make for some funny comments here and there.

- Snarky comments; whether they’re directed at you or someone else. Ian can be a bit of a bastard so don’t be surprised when his mouth opens and something mocking comes out. Just be prepared to occasionally slap his arm and stop him from being a total ass to people; even if it’s justified.

- Corny little jokes.

- Trying to keep him from verbally destroying people. He’s very verbal about his opinions so chances are, he’s going to speak his mind at one point or another and you might not want to be there when he does.

- He’s a voice of reason for just about everyone on Earth so if you need someone to tell you when you’re being stupid, he’s perfect for you.

- Sticking with him and being there for him after everything happens. He changes very drastically in the following years after meeting Mr. Hammond but you love him no less.

- No matter what people may think of him, you still defend him and proudly stand by his side. You’ve learned to ignore the opinion of others and not entertain their gossip.

- Helping him deal with the trauma that comes with almost getting fucking eaten.

- Ian doesn’t get jealous very often. He’s secure enough in himself and knows that you wouldn’t cheat on him, but every now and again, if you’re particularly close to like a colleague or something, he’ll show some signs of jealousy. Mainly, he’ll just ask a bunch of questions about them and your relationship; all the while trying to play it off as normal curiosity.

- Ian is incredibly protective of you; particularly after the events of Jurassic park. He’s willing to do whatever he can to keep you safe; even if it means endangering himself or doing something that scares the hell out of him.

- The two of you don’t fight extremely often; and you rarely have very serious fights, but you do have an argument from time to time. He may say something sarcastic or hurtful in the heat of the moment on occasion but he never means it and he always immediately apologizes.

- Very few fights last overnight. He’s usually so quick to apologize and try to sort things out that you’re back on track in no time. Under his egotistical shell, he’s really just a big softie who wants things to be alright between the two of you.

- He tells you that he loves you a perfectly average amount of times; not too much and not too little. And he loves hearing you say it back or just tell him that you love him for no real reason.

- Ian legitimately loves kids. Like he’s fully prepared to get married and start a family with you at any given moment. Believe me, you just say the words and he’ll pop the question.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part VIII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~13.2k

Warnings: this one fucking hurts, pining, stupid decisions, miscommunications, explicit sexual content (it’s time for something we’ve been waiting for), yet another party, angst A/N: Read this, but before you murder me remember there’s one more after this. Also, this isn’t the big thing you’ve been waiting for, but I know it’s something a lot of people have wanted to see. Enjoy this ouchie. 

Mike doesn’t feel human when he wakes up. He’s nearly positive he no longer is—body taken over by some creature of the bog with toxic breath. Jesus, what the fuck happened last night?

 Blinking hurts. Shifting his leg hurts. His chest is fucking killing him, feels like he bruised his god damn sternum, and when he moves to sit up in a bed that is not his, overwhelming nausea has Mike groaning and covering his mouth with one hand. 

 “He has risen,” a vaguely familiar baritone voice rings through the air, loud enough to make Mike wave his other hand in an attempt to mute it. Erwin chuckles, paying him no attention apparently as he speaks again, “Good timing, too. I just came to drop this off.”

 Mike tries to focus his bleary eyes on the nightstand where his friend sets down a bottle of water, a bigger bottle of Gatorade, and several liquid gel pills. 

 “Chill here for as long as you need. I’m just watching the pledges clean downstairs. Want me to bring the trash can over?” Erwin’s concern can’t entirely hide the amusement in his voice. It’s irritating, but also… Mike needs that trash can.

 “Yeah,” he croaks through his palm. “Thanks.”

 Erwin nods and grabs the little plastic bin, setting it down next to the bed. Mike considers just picking it up and sitting with it in his lap, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay upright for long enough.

 “I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything, you’ll just have to yell because your phone is definitely sitting in a bag of rice in the kitchen right now.”

 “What?” Mike frowns. How even…

 “It got wet,” Erwin states, like that clarifies anything. “Probably in the shower.”

 “Why was I—”

 “We can talk about it when you’re less…” Erwin gestures to Mike’s face with one finger and grimaces as he finishes, “Green. You didn’t do anything too terrible, though, so you can rest easy.”

 He leaves, and Mike chokes down the pills and a few gulps of water before gently laying back down. He has to retrace metaphorical footsteps to get to the last thing he remembers from the night before, and it’s body shots off some blonde clone. His order of events goes: hanging out with Rhi, talking with you and Erwin, Zeke showing up, catching Eren mid-roofie attempt and throwing him out, getting mad at Nile, and then just a lot of drinking. Too much. Of different kinds. That had been dumb. 

 He thinks he spent a little while in the bathroom. Erwin was there. And, Nile came and went. He thinks he may have heard your voice a few times but can’t be sure, and honestly, trying to recall anything from the period of time his brain was literally incapable of processing new memories is a pretty big waste of time.

 Mike spends most of the day in Erwin’s room. He drifts in and out of restless sleep, waking up to drink his water and Gatorade. At some point, one of the kids, Jean, knocks on the door and drops a bowl of soup off, mumbles, “Erwin told me to bring this up here.” Mike hasn’t spent a ton of time around the current pledge class, but Erwin must like Jean if he trusted the kid enough to give him his room code. 

 The soup settles his stomach enough to move around a little more. His headache ebbs into a dull throb, and the sharp ache in his chest fades into that of a bruise. By around five o'clock, Mike is finally able to amble downstairs, give everyone a tired wave, mumble his thanks to Erwin, then drive himself to his apartment. 

 He's still trying to piece together what happened the night before, but he just ends up more confused than before, so he decides to put it behind him and move on. Everyone deserves a wild night every once in a while. 

 *

 Thanksgiving nears. Mike has already made plans to go home to his parents which means he has to turn down the Pike house Friendsgiving offer that Erwin extends to him. 

 He tells Mike that Nile and Hitch will be there, but Marie might show her face, "So, that will be interesting." 

 Some of the brothers who can't make it home will attend. Erwin is bringing Maddie who Mike hasn't heard about in several months, but he's pretty sure that's just to throw him off the scent of whatever Erwin has going on with you. You, who will also be in attendance because apparently your mom opted to go on a girls trip instead of face the family. Mike can't blame her. 

 He thinks maybe he should reach out to you, to ask about the night he blacked out because he has a feeling you can give him some details that others can't, but Erwin assures Mike that you were only in the bathroom with him for a short time. "Just long enough to see you rip your shirt which she seemed a little too happy about."

 Mike doesn't know what he'd say to you anyway. Even after learning that Zeke had blocked his number in your phone. He's still mad that you let the fucker get close enough to do that in the first place, that you had chosen him. It's a wound that just won't heal. Any time he sees you or hears your name, all Mike can think about is why he wasn't good enough. 

 So, he keeps distancing himself. It seems like the most appropriate thing he can do until he decides he'll be able to have a conversation with you without blowing up. 

 Mike's parents are happy to see him when he walks in the door. Scout jumps on him until he picks her up and holds her like the puppy she is not. He isn't surprised when his mom asks about you, if you and Mike sorted things out. The question hurts even if he was expecting it, seems like yesterday you were walking around the house like you'd always been a part of it. 

 Lying is the easiest path to take. He tells his parents that you had to go home for the break, that you couldn't split up your time between two families in just four days, and, of course, they buy it. 

 Thanksgiving day is nice enough. The family travels a couple cities over to Mike's aunt and uncle's house. It's much bigger, has room for the relatives that are able to make it. There are traditional Greek dishes as well as the usual turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. A few pictures here and there, entertaining his younger cousins—it's a good time. 

 Until Mike checks his various social media apps and sees the pictures from Friendsgiving.

 They're tame, nothing wildly inappropriate, but they still make Mike scowl as he thumbs through them. 

 One of Nile cutting into the turkey, of Reiner ripping into a drumstick, Connie hoarding all of the cranberry sauce while his best friend, a girl named Sasha, does the same with the deviled eggs. Gelgar looks to be crying with a dot of potato salad in his hair. Marie is indeed there, glaring in the background of a photo where Nile and Hitch are tapping beer bottles together with silly smiles. She looks much happier in the shot of her and Maddie sitting together, laughing over glasses of wine. 

 Mike's heart stutters when he gets to a photo of you aiming to toss food into Reiner's mouth, then of you and Erwin both holding beers in one hand and pointing matching finger guns with the other.

 Thick as fucking thieves. Two peas in a god damn pod. Mike wants to throw his phone out the window of his dad's suburban. 

 There are several more pictures that Mike doesn't bother to look at. He'd like to have a good time with his parents for the remainder of his break, and there's no way he'll be able to do that if he's pissed off. 

 So, he distracts himself. He goes on walks with Scout and plays with her for hours, watches old movies with his mom and dad, calls a couple relatives from overseas to catch up. But, those pictures are seared into the back of his mind, surfacing whenever he has down time. 

 He doesn't have any desire to go back to campus, not if he's gonna see you and Erwin together. His friend can deny it all he wants, but Mike knows something is going on between the two of you, and as he drives back to the college, he finally has the realization that… you might just be a shitty person. 

 Yeah, you have issues, but so does everyone. It doesn't excuse you from—from fucking toying with people, from using them as puppets whenever you need to. Mike wishes he'd never even tempted you to sleep with him that last time. It had felt too good and too right, but apparently you don't feel the same way. You went right back to Zeke once you'd gotten what you wanted, and Mike should have seen that coming. He should have been prepared for it. On some level he knew that's what you'd do, but that never stopped him from hoping that maybe… maybe it would have opened your eyes. 

 Plus, it ruined the entire Jurassic Park franchise for him, so that sucks. 

 He picks up where he left off both in his classes and in his social life. He stays away from PKA as much as he can but still attends meetings when necessary. The lacrosse season is coming to an end, so he tries to make the most of it. Rhi ends up in his bed again, both of them taking what they can from each other. Erwin jokes that he's gonna fall in love with her— "You know what happened the last time you tried to keep it casual," —and Mike nearly decks him in the face. 

 You don't try to talk to him, no texts or calls. When you see each other on campus, you don't spare him more than a sad glance as you pass him. 

 Mike is fine with it. He isn't about to be the one to make the move to talk things out. Honestly, he doesn't know if there's anything to talk out. You dated Zeke, and now you're dating Mike's best friend and trying to hide it. 

 He's mad at both of you, but it's easier to channel that blistering anger toward you rather than Erwin who he has to see on a regular basis. Besides, Erwin has always gotten around. Mike isn't especially surprised that he'd try his hand with you especially after what happened at the ranch house, but fuck, couldn't he have waited until after he and Mike graduated or something? Just disrespectful. That's what it is. 

 *

 "Bro, I do not wanna go to another party," Mike's voice rises in frustration. "Consider me partied the fuck out, okay? I'm tired of 'em."

 "It's not even a party," Erwin tells him. "It's more like a gathering of… like-minded individuals."

 Mike snorts. "Yeah, okay." 

 "I'm not kidding! Like, twelve people at the most. All we're doing is hanging out at the ranch house."

 "Will there be drinking?" Mike questions, moving his head back and forth in a mocking way. 

 Erwin shrugs his shoulders where he sits. "Of course there'll be drinking, but you don't have to partake. I just want you there to chill. Come on, man."

 "Who's going?"

 The blond lists off some of the Friendsgiving group, but he doesn't get to finish because once Erwin utters your name, Mike cuts him off with a loud, "Nope!"

 "Duuuude," Erwin sounds like the frustrated one now, not that he has any right to be. 

 "Don't dude me! Why the fuck would you think I'd have any interest in watching you two giggle and cuddle n' shit."

 "Mike," Erwin groans, rubbing his forehead. "How many times do I have to tell you…"

 "You don't have to tell me anything. I already know what I need to know."

 Standing up, Erwin seems like he's at his wit's end when he barks, "You don't know shit! You're seeing what you want to see without asking either of us! She misses you, dude. I'm just the next best thing."

 "Nice to know your dick game isn't better than mine at least," Mike grumbles. 

 "Jesus Christ, you know what? I don't care. Come to the house, or don't come. Whatever."

 Erwin takes long strides to get to Mike's front door, obviously ready to get away from him. He slams it hard enough to make Mike flinch. 

 He doesn't care how annoyed Erwin is with him. It's partially his fault that Mike doesn't want to go to the gathering, and he should know that. He'll come to understand eventually, and that thought makes it easier for Mike to make his decision. He's not gonna go. He refuses. There's no way. He won't—

 Mike ends up going. 

 After powering through finals and visiting his parents for another few days. He has a mental debate the entire way to the ranch house, swearing to himself, going over the pros and cons. He comes close to turning around more than a few times, but after a couple hours, Mike finally pulls into the large circle drive right behind Levi's black Prius. 

 Erwin is extremely surprised to see him but keeps his mouth closed about it, just tells him, "Room upstairs on the far right is still open."

 Mike drops his stuff off then greets the others—Nile, Gelgar, Reiner, Jean, Marco, and Levi. 

 "Wasn't expecting to see you here," the last states, focused on burning the loose string of his hoodie with a lighter. "Erwin told me you guys had some bullshit argument."

 "Happens sometimes," Mike dismisses as he takes a place on the couch. 

 "I guess. This is why I don't have a lot of friends. Can't put up with stupid shit like that."

 "Oh, is that why?" Mike rolls his eyes. 

 Levi snickers, shaking his head. "Aw man, he was right. You are in a bad mood, aren't ya'? 

 "Man, fuck off."

 They sit in silence for a few minutes. Mike is bouncing his foot where it's thrown over his opposite leg—anxious or angry or some other negative emotion he needs to get rid of. 

 "Party's gonna be a fucking sausage fest," Levi mumbles. 

 Nile passes behind the couch just in time to hear and informs the smaller man, "Not entirely. Maddie, Marie, Hitch, and Mike's little heartbreaker should be getting here soon."

 Mike groans internally but speaks out loud, "This was a mistake. I can't fucking be here if you guys keep talking about her."

 "If you can't handle us talking about her, how're you gonna handle seeing her?" Levi scoffs. 

 Erwin has stocked the bar with craft beer and various wines. Mike considers going ahead and breaking a few bottles open, but he resists—doesn't want a repeat of the forgotten party. 

 They set up a horror video game upstairs and an animated adult series downstairs. Erwin wasn't lying about it being a more relaxed environment than usual, but that doesn't stop Mike's neck from prickling when you arrive with Hitch at around five. Maddie and Marie show up a couple hours later, and Mike can feel the tension that surrounds all four of you. Amusing as it can be, he really doesn't have the patience for cattiness tonight. 

 High quality Chinese food is provided courtesy of Erwin's father's credit card as well as dipped strawberries that Nile keeps feeding Hitch. It gets Marie very heated very quickly, and Maddie has to talk her down in another room. 

 It makes Mike wonder if you would ever let him feed you like that or if you would snort and bat his hand away. What the fuck do you think you're doing, Zacharias? That's couples shit.

 It makes him sigh and slouch on the couch, thankful you're upstairs watching Connie play the most recent Resident Evil. 

 He knows you're not a fan of horror, so the only reason you'd be up there is to avoid Mike. 

 Good. 

 Erwin is the first to open the wine. Maddie won't leave his side, stuck to him like a magnet. The fact that he has to get a drink only furthers Mike's theory that Erwin didn't invite her as a real date. 

 He spends a fair amount of time shooting the shit with Levi. It isn't necessarily the most enjoyable conversation considering Levi's constant smartass comments, but it's better than trudging up to the second floor. 

 Nile fucks Hitch in the bathroom for everyone to hear. Marie starts crying and runs to the porch. This gathering is about as insufferable as Mike assumed it would be. 

 Eventually, you journey downstairs. It was inevitable. You spare Mike a glance and sigh as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a beer—you don't even like beer, so why—

 "Hey, can you grab me one too?" Erwin calls out, and when you hand it to him, he gives you that hundred watt grin Mike knows brings girls to their knees, but while Maddie stares at him with that dreamy look in her eyes, you just snort and gently shove him. 

 "Don't fuckin' look at me like that, Smith."

 Ah, the last name card, the one that you pull to act like you're all aloof when really you're just reeling them in. 

 "Like what?" Erwin asks before taking a sip, still smiling around the rim of the bottle. 

 "You know what."

 Mike chooses then to go upstairs, knowing he steals your attention as he stomps like a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

 Why did he even come here? Was it just to give himself more reason to brood? Solidify that he's valid in being angry? 

 Connie is trembling as his character makes his way through a decrepit house. Jean laughs every few minutes, but he also startles at every jump scare, leaving Reiner to call both of them pussies as he bites into strawberry after strawberry, throwing the stems into a little bowl in his lap. Mike supposes the first years are entertaining enough. He can see why Erwin invited them here. 

 It's close to nine o'clock. Mike is bored out of his mind, can't help venturing back downstairs mostly because he's tired of watching the pledges swear and shout at the video game (including Reiner now) but also out of morbid curiosity. 

 Marie has returned and is sitting in the kitchen with Maddie, both of whom are glaring into the den where you, Erwin, Nile, and Hitch share the couch. Hitch may as well be in Nile's lap, but you're sitting on the back ridge, feet planted on the cushions as you hunch forward and nurse a beer. Your knee is against Erwin's arm, but that's the only point of contact. Still, whenever something funny is said on the TV show, he looks up at you, as if to check that you're laughing, taking it in. Mike can't blame him. You have one of the cutest laughs he's ever heard. 

 Levi and Gelgar are both on plush loveseats on opposite sides of the room, either scrolling or typing on their phones. 

 Again, Mike has to think about how laid back the party is—even if he's a mess. It's so different from the raucous scenes he's used to—blasting music and keg stands and dancing on tables. This would be infinitely preferable if it weren't for the open pit in Mike's stomach. 

 If he could just chill the fuck out, pay absolutely no attention to you and Erwin and the way his fingers slowly wrap around your ankle when you won't stop bouncing your leg. 

 Not together his ass. 

 When Mike gets a text from Rhi, he basically sighs in relief—the perfect opportunity to forget about you for a while. 

 He doesn't bother asking to make sure it's okay with the host, just messages back, what are you doing rn? and immediately asks her to come over, knowing she only lives about an hour away. 

 Naturally, she agrees. One of the only great things about Rhi is that she’s always, always down to fuck. Mike doesn’t know if it has something to do with his size or if she just has a high sex drive. Either way, he’s glad for it.. 

 He meets her on the porch after waiting for what feels like an eternity, just having to sit and watch you kick Erwin’s thigh whenever he says something dumb. He always retaliates by pulling on your little toes which makes you squeak and almost fall off the couch. It’s fucking maddening, makes Mike want to pull his hair out or throw something, just trash the fucking house because Erwin deserves it. 

 But, then Rhi arrives in all her Ugg boot glory, wearing the old, green hoodie that you had given back to Mike a few months ago.

 They walk in, Mike’s hands on her shoulders like he’s pushing her over the threshold. You look up, take the other girl in, then very quickly step off the couch and prance into the kitchen without saying a word.

 Erwin, however, makes up for your silence, wide eyed as he stares at Rhi and utters, “Fuck.”

* You didn’t want to be like Maddie and Marie, jogging to a private place to cry over a fucking boy, but god, you are definitely locked in the bathroom, hunched over the sink sobbing as quietly as you can. Your nose is running, and your eyes are burning, leaking god damn rivers

 It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was just in her normal winter sorority get-up. But the hoodie? The one you wore for months on end, the one Mike would sniff whenever he would lay his head on your stomach, mumbling something about, “Smells good. Might have to take it back.” He didn’t have to say it out loud, but you knew he always felt a little jolt of pride when you’d wear it, like you were advertising how close you were to him.

 So, to see another girl wearing it—to see Rhi wearing it—it fucking hurts. Your throat is sore from holding back those loud, pained cries. Your stomach is rolling like you ate something spoiled. Your fingers ache from digging into the fancy, granite sink. Everything hurts. 

 It makes you wonder if Mike felt like this when you first told him about Zeke, if he feels like this now that he thinks you’re with Erwin—stupid, stupid, stupid. You shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to him. You should have cleared things up right after the party. Now, it’s too late. 

 There’s a knock on the door that makes you sniff and wipe your nose, but you still tell whoever is on the other side (most likely Hitch or Erwin), “Go away.”

 “It’s me.” Erwin. "Let me in."

 "Literally what did I just say?" 

 "If you don't unlock the door, I'll kick it in. It's my house, so I won't get in trouble for it."

 "Oh my god," you grumble before turning the lock on the knob. "Spoiled fucking brat."

 Erwin steps in and closes the door then takes a good look at your puffy face and red eyes. Sighing, he leans against the wall. "For the record, I didn't invite her. Mike must have—"

 "That doesn't make me feel any better," you say, grabbing some toilet paper to blow your nose. "Actually, it makes me feel even worse."

 "I just wanted to make sure you knew."

 "What, d'you want brownie points or something?" You ask sarcastically, making sure the toilet lid is down before sitting on it, bracing your arms on your knees and looking up at Erwin to find him frowning. "Sorry. I'm being a bitch, I know."

 He waves it off. "It's understandable. I'm not very happy with him either. The perpetual shitty mood is driving me crazy."

 You don't know much about that other than it being entirely your fault, so you apologize, "Yeah, sorry about that."

 "If you guys would have just talked it out like adults—"

 "Well, we didn't, Erwin. And, it seems like it's not even an option any more, so…" you hold your hands out in a clueless fashion, like you're at a loss. "I don't know what you want me to do."

 Your voice is thick, straining against the lump in your throat. Vision going blurry again, you shove your palms against your eyes, repeating, no more crying, no more crying, no more crying. 

 "I'm sorry he's doing this to you," Erwin says quietly. 

 You sniffle, almost laugh when you reply, "Not really different from what I did to him. Like," you have to blow your nose again so it doesn't start running, toss the toilet paper into the waste basket next to you. "I don't know if he's trying to get back at me or legitimately moving on, but I can't exactly hold it against him."

 "Still," Erwin takes a couple steps toward you. "Pulling this kind of shit is fucked up. He had to have known it would hurt you on some level."

 "You don't have to, like, take my side or whatever," you state. "I know we're friends and all, but you don't have to coddle me like this."

 "I'm not trying to coddle you. I'm sympathizing. There's a difference."

 "Whatever it is, it's unnecessary," you mumble.

 "Yeah?" Another step closer so that he's right in front of you. "So, you weren't planning on crying in here for the rest of the night?" 

 "No," you're quick to deny, but your lips quirk upward when you correct, "I was gonna go up to my room and cry in there for the rest of the night."

 Erwin shakes his head then pulls you into a strange embrace, pressing your face to his stomach with one hand while the other settles between your shoulder blades.

 Your first instinct is to shove him away, but his shirt is soft and smells like detergent, and his stomach is firm and grounding against your cheek, and the knuckles rubbing up and down the top of your spine are warm and soothing. 

 So, you stay in the slightly awkward position, shutting your eyes and trying to relax, but all you can think about is Mike walking in with his hands on Rhi and the way she looked in his hoodie. Is she cuter than you? Does she smell better than you? Does she treat him better than you did? 

 Tears well up in your eyes once again, dampening Erwin's shirt as they slip over your waterline, and before you know it, you're clutching the material covering the small of his back and crying against him. 

 And, he lets you—just keeps stroking between your shoulders and shushing you with a quiet, "I know, I know. It'll be okay." 

 Erwin is cocky and bold, takes things a little too far sometimes, but, just as you thought last year after he stole that kiss, he is good. Even if he's broken too many hearts to count and completely disregarded people's feelings, he's a good guy. At the very least, he's good to you, and that's what you need at the moment. 

 "What time is it?" You speak into his shirt. 

 "About eleven thirty."

 You hum and turn so that your forehead is resting just above his hips. It could be a suggestive position, but—

 But nothing. 

 You blink a few times, weighing the situation, everything that unfolded tonight—everything that's unfolded over the past semester and… it would make sense. It's not like you've never thought about it before. You're worked up and need to unwind, need to clear your head, and besides, Mike already believes there's something between you and Erwin, so why not take advantage of that?

 Sucking on your bottom lip, you go through a list of pros and cons. The biggest downside is that Mike will be upset with you. He already is, though, so there’s isn’t much to lose on that front. The upside is that you'll be able to forget about him for a while and possibly get an orgasm out of it. 

 "Hey, Erwin…" You're not entirely sure how to bring it up, but it turns out you don't have to. 

 "Don't fucking ask," he huffs. Perceptive bastard. 

 You push away from his stomach and look up at him. "Okay, why, though?"

 His head is hanging back, gaze trained on the ceiling as he admits, "Because if you ask, I won't say no, and it'll only make things worse."

 Something about that gives you butterflies. That's a good sign, means you might be invested enough to finally let your mind wander from Mike. 

 "Mike already thinks we're fucking, though, so unless you don't actually want to fuck me, I don't see why we shouldn't."

 Erwin walks backward until he hits the cabinets. His full lips are pressed into a tight line, and his blue eyes look like a warning. Don't push me. 

 "Do you honestly think you won't walk away from that feeling guilty?" He questions. "We know we aren't sleeping together, that we aren't actually doing anything wrong even if Mike doesn't believe it. But, to actually go through with it?" Erwin lets out a little chuckle and crosses his arms over his chest. "I probably won't feel bad 'cause I'm kind of an asshole, but you? You will feel awful."

 "I already feel awful," you remind him as you stand. "I already feel guilty. If you think I could feel any fucking worse than I already do, you might be overestimating my—my—I don't know—emotional capacity?"

 Moving forward, you nudge Erwin out of the way to get to the sink, splashing cold water on your face to clean it of dried tears. You cup a hand under the faucet, then toss some water into your mouth, swishing, and spitting, and turning back around. 

 Erwin's gaze is dark and not at all subtle when he eyes you up and down. 

 "I might hurt you, you know," he states in a voice that's considerably deeper than before. 

 You raise your eyebrows, unconvinced. "You don't have to worry about me catching feelings, Smith. Relax."

 Mouth tugging up on one side, Erwin smirks in a way that makes you squirm where you stand. 

 "That's not what I meant."

 It takes you a moment to decipher what he's trying to say, but you breathe an, "Oh," when you realize, then another as it truly sinks in. "Oh."

 That's okay, you want to tell him. I want to be hurt tonight. You only want it if it will hurt. If you confess to that desire, though, Erwin might back out—a disappointment considering the way you're starting to get a little excited. 

 "If I can handle Mike, I can handle you," you say, fully aware that he'll take it as a challenge. If there's one thing you know about men, it's that they thrive off competition. 

 Erwin is no different as he slides in front of you, hands finding your hips and pulling them to his. He's already half hard in his khakis, and you stand on your tip-toes, brushing against him as you do, to tilt your head back and hover just under his mouth as you tease, "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it before."

 "You have no idea how often I've thought about it—how often I think about it."

 You nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the way he licks it afterward. "Have you been holding back since we started hanging out—just the two of us?" 

 His fingers dig into your back, just above the curve of your ass, and you already know there will be small bruises left behind. 

 "Do you want me to paint a picture?" He rumbles, and you nod, pressing a kiss to his throat. "Any time I have you in my room I think about fucking you. On the bed. Over my desk. Up against a wall…" A little gasp makes its way out of him as you bite down on the skin you've been sucking on, and Erwin ruts against you a couple times before continuing, voice a little more strangled than before. 

 "Thought about fucking you downstairs on the couch for the whole frat to see, all spread out, moaning like a porn star. I know what you sound like," he whispers, catching you off guard when he suddenly lifts you to set you on the counter. "I've heard the way you scream for Mike." 

 There's a pang in your chest at the mention of him, but it's gone just as quickly. 

 "And, you'd like it, wouldn't you? Being watched." Erwin trails his lips from your temple to your ear, making you shiver when he speaks into it, "You can pretend all you want, but I know you liked it when I walked in on you and him. You liked being on display."

 He isn't wrong. You replay that instance in your head a little more than you probably should. 

 Hearing the fact stated now, though, right to your face has your body heating, arousal flooding you and making warmth pool between your legs. 

 "You can admit it, it's okay. I've known for a while now."

 One of his hands moves to the inside of your thigh then further up, fingers dancing over your covered pussy. It's your turn to gasp. You clutch his shoulders and spread your legs despite knowing there's no way you'll be satisfied with this, not when thick denim is separating you from his touch. 

 "Don't get too cocky, Smith." You try to sound confident, but it's hard to when your breath keeps hitching. 

 "Why?" He grazes his teeth over the sensitive space below your ear, and it makes you twitch in his grasp. "I have every reason to be."

 He goes on to list every other place he's thought about fucking you—apparently just about every setting you've ever been in with him. Each and every Pike party, the locker room before or after a lacrosse game, his Mustang, Mike's Wrangler.

 "That's fucked up," you somehow manage. 

 Erwin shrugs his shoulders, mumbles, "Can't help it," then slots his lips against yours for the first time (or, the first consensual time). 

 You're reminded of Zeke, the way all you did was compare him, only now with Erwin, you have two men who flash through your mind. He's softer than Zeke but just as bold as he cradles your head and slips his tongue into your mouth—tastes sweeter than Mike (probably from the strawberries), but it's not necessarily a good thing. It isn't bad either. It's just Erwin… Different. 

 His hair doesn't brush your cheeks like Mike's does. He doesn't have glasses to dig into your skin. Clean shaven, no coarse hairs to tickle against you, and he's smack in the middle in terms of height. You have to crane your neck more than you did with Zeke but less than you had to with Mike. 

 It's all a little jarring, but you feel this was always sort of an inevitability, at least once you started spending time with Erwin one on one. You never would have let this happen if you had stayed with Mike—if you had actually taken the next step with him—but that's why you started hanging out with Erwin in the first place. 

 You never noticed the way your back and forth was flirty, mostly just you giving him shit about one thing or another, but apparently others read further into it. And, you've had as good a time as you can. The heartache has put a damper on things, kept Erwin mostly off your radar save for the days you woke up frustrated and desperate, but that's what your vibrator is for. 

 Apparently, while you were busy making sure things stayed friendly between the two of you, Erwin's mind was getting away from him. Every god damn time you hung out, he told you, whether it was at the house or out to lunch, walking with you to classes or out to your car. 

 He did make it a habit of touching you, you can admit, but none of it was inappropriate—a nudge to knock you off balance that would result in you hitting him, a prod in the ribs that would result in you squeaking and hitting him. Sticking a foot out to trip you that would result in you…

 Dude obviously likes to be slapped around. 

 There's also the hugs. Up in his room when you feel extra gloomy, he'd wrap his arms around you and sway back and forth. Sometimes he'd sit and pull you with him, turn on a movie and keep a tight hold around your shoulders. There were afternoons you'd walk into his room while he was studying and just pass out in his bed, up too late the night before from worrying and obsessing, in need of a nap before your evening lecture. He'd set an alarm for you, stay up for a while longer before allowing himself to take a break and crawl under the blankets beside to—

 Oh, god, you've been dating Erwin Smith. 

 You have to break away from him to laugh, lightly hitting your head against his chest so that he chuckles and asks, "What?" 

 "I—" You look back up at him, shaking your head to yourself. "I can't believe I didn't fucking see it."

 "See what?" 

 "You and me—"

 "You and I," he corrects, and you shove him. 

 "You and I have just been doing what Mike and I were doing."

 "Uh, excuse me," he holds a finger up. "We have not been having endless sex, thank you."

 "That's not—" You roll your eyes. "I'm saying we've been dating without actually dating. Like, I get why everyone thinks we're a thing."

 "Oh," Erwin nods, sucking his teeth for a second then adding, "Yeah, I was wondering when you would figure that out."

 "Fucker. Did you do it on purpose? Like, just to prove you could?" 

 He frowns, looking genuinely offended. "Christ, what kind of person do you think I am?" 

 "Not twenty minutes ago you confessed to being an asshole."

 His face softens when he snickers. "Okay, true. But, no. I'm not trying to manipulate Mike or you for that matter. You've been upset, and you've put up with a lot of shit over the last few months, and I just figured you could use a friend."

 Staring up at him, you notice the way his face is turning a little red, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you smile knowingly. 

 "You caaare about meee."

 He scoffs and looks away

 "Heartbreaker Smith cares about a girl," you tease. "How embarrassing."

 "Laugh it up. You would've been miserable without me."

 "I mean, yeah, but still. What's it like having a platonic girlfriend?" 

 He tilts his head to the side then reaches forward to squeeze your thighs. "Is it really platonic if we're about to have sex?" 

 "Absolutely. Hundred percent."

 "You're not even a little worried that it'll become a regular thing and you'll fall in love?" The arrogance is both astounding and amusing. 

 Cocking your head, you take a deep breath, expression one of false sympathy as you pat his stomach. "I'm positive. Unfortunately, my heart belongs to another."

 Erwin clicks his tongue before moving forward and sliding his hands between the counter and your ass. "I'm a little hurt, honestly. I'm used to fucking a girl and having to hide out for a while afterward—always so clingy."

 You squint, can't tell if he's being serious or overdramatizing to annoy you. 

 "You know what? Nevermind. I don't even want your little playboy ass anymore—"

 Naturally, he turns the charm back on right then, getting too close to your face, blue eyes flicking to your lips before he breathes, "Don't lie," and presses a tiny peck to them. "The tough girl act is only believable for so long."

 "Wow, fuck you."

 "That's the idea," he smirks. 

 "Har fucking har. You're so funny."

 Erwin pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and grinds his hips against yours then prompts, "Your room or mine?" 

 "Mine," you reply. "I'd rather you have to do the walk of shame later."

 "Probably a good idea since you won't be able to once I'm finished with you."

 You actually laugh out loud. It would have worked on you a few minutes ago, but all the joking has you a little giggly at this point. 

 Fuck, he is going to make a great distraction. 

 "Okay, calm down. Don't make promises you can't keep."

 "Sounds like a challenge to me."

 "Men," you sigh. "So predictable."

 After minutes more of unnecessary banter, Erwin finally coaxes you out of the bathroom you've both spent far too much time in. Your face has cleared up, the urge to cry subsiding, though your heart still drops in your chest when you pass behind Mike and Rhi on the couch, green eyes tracking you as you walk up the stairs in front of Erwin. 

 This is not the right way to solve a problem, but it'll probably be fun for a while. It's already fun as Erwin kicks the door closed and walks you back to the bed. He isn't even touching you, just watching you with a hazy blue gaze. He isn't smiling, looks like a predator, and honestly, it's ridiculously attractive. 

 "Stop making that face."

 "What face?" 

 "That—that—"

 You run into the bed, wave your arms to keep your balance, but Erwin presses his fingertips to your chest and just barely pushes to knock you back. 

 "What face, hm?" 

 The hair on your arms and neck is standing on end, anticipation bubbling in your gut as you try to crawl higher on the mattress only for Erwin to grab you by the ankle and tug you back down. 

 Damn. He's good at this. 

 "Stay," he commands, straightening up to take his shirt off. 

 He's tan and toned, light blonde hair sprinkled over his chest and above the waistband of his pants. 

 You're reminded of the very first Pike party you went to, the first time you slept with Mike (and can't remember), walking downstairs the following morning to find Erwin in the kitchen wearing sweats and drinking his coffee and smirking at you like he could tell the future. 

 Maddening. He's maddening. 

 You rid yourself of your own top then shimmy out of your jeans. Erwin eyes you hungrily, causing your whole body to tingle. It simultaneously makes you want to cover yourself and spread yourself open for him. 

 "I have been waiting way too fucking long for this," Erwin mumbles, raking fingernails down your torso so that you take in a shuddering breath. 

 "It's been, like, a y-year and a half." Your back arches on its own volition, hips bucking as Erwin scratches over the bones before catching your thong and pulling it down. He kneels at the end of the bed, a familiar scene save for the head of shiny, golden hair.

 "A year and a half of having to look but not touch."

 "Poor little—" you gasp when he parts your folds with his thumbs, staring at your pussy then blowing a stream of air over it. 

 "Do you know how many times I've jacked off to the thought of you? How many times I've slept with other girls while imagining it was you?" 

 You want to make another smartass comment, tease him about being a pervert or in his feelings or something, but you can't find your voice as he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. You stare at the ceiling, not even blinking as too many signals fire in your brain all at once. 

 Erwin is good with his mouth. Like, stupid good. He has a teasing rhythm, flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue until your muscles are coiled then moves to trace the ring of your entrance, taking his time as you turn from human to puddle. 

 He’s better at this than Zeke who would purposely graze his teeth over your sensitive little bud a little too hard on purpose, would suck on it until it hurt. He liked when you whimpered for him, liked leaving raised welts on your ribs and back from where he’d scratched. The intermixed pain and pleasure never failed to make you come, but the climb up to that precipice was usually precarious for lack of a better term.

 Then, there’s Mike (because of course there is). His mood usually determined how he would take you, hard and fast before a game or slow and lazy as you both relaxed in his room. One thing always stayed the same no matter his disposition, and it’s that he fucking worshiped your pussy—even said it on multiple occasions. He would eat you out like a starving man, lapping at your juices like it would quench his thirst. Some days he would overstimulate you to the point of tears, neverending licks lavished over your clit as he pumped thick fingers in and out of your cunt. Other days he would go down on you like it was a fucking hobby—turn on a movie, spread you out on the foot of his bed, and eat you out while only halfway paying attention to the TV. He could pull multiple orgasms from you that way, letting you come around a finger or two before returning to your pulsing clit. Fuck, you used to make such a mess. He’d spend minutes trying to lick you clean, but you always ended up in the shower afterward.

 You shouldn’t be thinking of that right now, though. You should be thinking about Erwin’s clever tongue and the fingertips just barely brushing over sensitive skin. You want them inside of you, want something to clamp down on, but no matter how much you pull his hair or utter a breathy, “Please,” he keeps the same pace, only moving on when he feels like it.

 He’s doing it on purpose, trying to break you before even getting to the point of fucking you, and if you’re being honest, it just might work. He’s gonna make you lose your god damn mind tonight. Exactly like you want to.

 “Fuck, how much p-practice have you had with th-this?”

 Erwin laughs, stilling your wriggling by curling his arms around your thighs. “Too much, probably.”

 You whine when he continues, but when he starts softly sucking on your clit, you’re surprised at how close you suddenly feel, your legs naturally trying to spread further but remaining immobilized in Erwin’s grip. The threat of not being able to move only intensifies the building sensation in your gut, and soon you’re gasping his name, eyes rolling as you try in vain to buck further into his face. 

 You feel more than hear Erwin groan, a deep vibration that pours over your clit and makes you twitch. He gives you a few more long licks, then pulls back and stands, exposing the way his mouth and chin are covered in a glossy sheen. 

 “Feel better yet?” He smirks.

 You wave a lazy hand, don’t want to fluff his ego too much, so you allow him to witness your borderline stoned state while still jeering, “I’ll feel better when I have your cock inside me.”

 Erwin laughs to himself, mutters, “Eager,” then takes his pants off. 

 Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you give his cock a cursory glance and stop. “Hold on,” then slide off the bed and to your knees. 

 If you’re gonna fuck Erwin Smith, you’re at least gonna appreciate it. 

 He inhales sharply as you place your hands on his thighs, eyes traveling over his length. It’s pretty, above average in size, smooth, with a flared tip that’s currently flushing a dark pink. 

 “I really hate to admit this, but you could be, like, a dick model.”

 He chokes on some kind of snort, and you swear his entire chest turns red. “I—thank you?”

 “You’re welcome,” you tell him, promptly taking hold of his cock and guiding it into your mouth.

 “Oh, fuck, fuck—”

 His skin is soft against your tongue, warm as you take him deeper. His girth stretches your jaw, but you’re still pretty used to the feeling, had to get used to it with Mike because he’s a little bigger than—

 That’s not important. 

 Erwin breathes through his teeth as he places a hand on the top of your head, and when you look up at him through your eyelashes, he lets out a disbelieving little laugh. That confident fucking tease is nowhere to be found as you swipe your tongue over the tiny hole leaking pre then surge forward, almost pressing your nose to his pelvis as you run the muscle back and forth under the base of his cock.

 “Shit, let me—let me lean against the bed,” he says, pulling you off him and chuckling, “Gonna make my fucking knees buckle.”

 You turn where you’re kneeling, waiting for him to get better stabilized before resuming your efforts to ruin this annoying, charming frat boy who is always put together. You suck and slurp and trigger your gag reflex a couple times. Erwin’s fingers scratch against your scalp like he’s looking for purchase. He’s careful not to be too brutal as he pushes you down on his cock, raising his hips to meet your rhythm. His head is thrown back, thighs tensing under your hands as his chest rises and falls with short breaths. 

 You have to work up to it, but once you feel loose enough, you press forward and let Erwin slip further into your throat. His voice sounds like honey when he groans a low, “Hoooly fuck,” letting his head hang down as he attempts to stare at you with unfocused eyes. 

 “Okay, okay, okay,” he huffs. “Keep going and we won’t get to the main event.”

 You pull off of him with a lewd pop then raise to your feet. Your knees are a little sore, but it’s nothing some exercise won’t work out. 

 “Want me to wear a condom?”

 “I don’t care. I’m clean and on birth control,” you tell him. “What about you?”

 “Well, I’m clean, but I haven’t gotten my birth control prescription refilled in a wh—”

 You flick his chest, and Erwin laughs as he bats you away. 

 “Alright. Up on the bed with you then,” he motions to the mattress. “Lay on the edge.”

 You do as you're told, spreading your legs for Erwin to stand between, and you bite your lip when you feel him rub the head of his cock between your folds. You’re still wet with slick—probably dripped onto the carpet when you were giving him head—which makes the glide easier as he teases you. 

 “Ready?” He asks, wriggling thick eyebrows until you smile. He doesn’t wait for an actual answer before he starts pushing in, pressing your legs to your chest as he slowly seats himself in your cunt.

 You’re making that face—eyebrows moving toward your hairline as if you’re worried, jaw dropping open as air is pushed from your lungs. Erwin looks focused, licking his lips as he gazes down at the way your pussy stretches around him. 

 He thrusts in and out at a tortuous pace, apparently waiting for you to start trembling around him before he deems you ready to take more. Every one of his movements is measured, slowly pulling out only to push in all at once. The ridge of his cock drags over your g-spot, pressing firmly against it and making you claw at his shoulders. 

 He feels good, satisfying, but he’s not quite as good as Mike who used to hit all your spots without even thinking about it—somehow making you beg like a whore and sing like a little girl in Sunday school all at the same time. 

 Still, you don’t have to lie when Erwin quickens his pace and pants, “Feel good?” 

 “Fuck—yes, yes, Jesus Christ—”

 He’s pulling all manner of crude sounds from your pussy, wet and greedy as it sucks him back in with every rut of his hips. The angle is perfect—his height paired with the bed on stilts has him hitting your spot every time, and you feel the need to warn him, “If you keep—keep fucking me like this—god—m’gonna squirt.”

 “Fuck yes,” he praises, wetting a thumb in his mouth before bringing it down to massage your clit. He only speeds up as your voice rises, body confused like your muscles don’t know if they should be flexed or relaxed. 

 You feel that tell-tale burning, that urge that only gets stronger the more Erwin abuses your g-spot and presses against your clit.

 “Shit, shit, shit—”

 Erwin groans when fluid starts to trickle from you, pushes more and more out of you while quickly swiping two fingers over your clit. The sense of relief is mind-numbing. You can’t even be upset that your sheets are gonna be damp whenever you decide to sleep. 

 He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t lose his rhythm, just sticks his two wet fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. 

 You see it now—the skill, the appeal, why the girls always come back to him. It makes sense. He’s devastatingly handsome, especially like this, all fucked out and flushed, hair out of place, lips red and swollen from biting them. 

 Yeah, Erwin is fucking hot.

 But, that doesn’t mean he’s your type. 

 Pulling out, he flips you onto your stomach, and you have to stand on your tip-toes as you lean over the bed. The burn in your calves disappears almost entirely when he slides into you from behind, pelvis pressing against your ass as he curls over you, cupping your tits and tweaking your hardened nipples as he gifts you with a series of shallow thrusts. It makes you whimper and teeter forward, unable to balance and squirm at the same time. Face suddenly buried in the mattress, your cries are muffled by the blankets. Erwin’s hands travel back to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his slick cock. He’s getting a little rougher, pressing into you as deeply as he can, and the fact that you’ll be sore from this tomorrow gives you a strange sense of satisfaction. 

 Only way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, right? Or, underneath in your case. Being a little more in control wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, so…

 “Erwin, Erwin, fuck—Lemme ride you.”

 There is no hesitation. Erwin slips out of you and throws himself onto the bed, grinning crookedly as he watches you climb over him on unsteady limbs. His patience must have worn out some time ago, because he holds his cock with one hand, using the other to line you up with it, then guides you down his length. 

 You have to sit still for a second, or you would like to, but Erwin is still holding your hips, and he rocks you back and forth in his lap like he knows. He probably does. He’s probably fucked enough girls to notice exactly when their eyes pop open, when they shudder and break out in goosebumps because that pressure is hitting exactly where it needs to, and yeah, he knows. 

 Finding it in yourself to move again, you lean over Erwin, planting your hands on the pillows by his head, then start bouncing on his cock. He hisses in a dark, appreciative way, eyes and hands immediately drawn to your chest. He sits up enough to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and pinching then doing the same to the other. 

 He’s so good—feels so good, knows just where to touch, the exact place to bite on your neck that makes you melt, but how—how does he know that? It’s like he has a sixth sense or—

 Or, he just paid attention to the bruises that Mike used to leave on the sides of your throat. That checks out. 

 Fuck, he used to mark you like he wanted everyone to see, especially that last night. It was almost animalistic, like he had been—marking his territory, Zeke’s voice plays in your head. It makes you frown, and you rid yourself of the thought only to replace it with the memory of Mike’s mouth on your skin, his calloused fingertips trailing down your torso, huge hands wrapping around your legs to pull you against him—

 You whine, glad it sounds like a sound of desperation rather than frustration. You just want to stop thinking about him. Just an hour—if you could go a single fucking hour—

 “Hey, look at me,” Erwin commands in a soft voice. 

 You open your eyes, still hovering over him, and expect him to say something, but instead he just reaches up to the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. 

 He’s helping move you on top of him, forcing you to take his cock over and over, and like this, so close and breathing him in, you don’t even have the room to think about Mike. 

 Both of your bodies are damp with sweat, and Erwin’s hair is a mess, pushed from his flushed face. He bites down on your bottom lip and tugs, only letting go to ask, “Where do you want me?”

 “I don’t care,” you groan, legs and arms and pussy growing sore. You’re not surprised; you’ve been going at it for a while now. 

 Erwin licks your lower lip as if to soothe it after biting it, tells you, “Oh, don’t give me that option. You know where I’ll pick.”

 Smiling, you straighten up then move to fit your feet underneath you so you can bounce more freely. “You can come inside, dude. It feels good to me, too.”

 “I really don’t know how to respond to being called ‘dude’ when I’m balls deep in a girl.”

 You shrug, “Sorry not sorry,” then raise and drop yourself, feeling in charge for the first time tonight. 

 “Fuck—shit—”

 That feeling is short lived as Erwin goes right back to using you the way he wants. You think for about half a second that he’s finally, really losing himself, but the accuracy of his finger on your clit proves that is not the case. He’s clearly having a good time, but he isn’t at that feral stage that Mike falls into sometimes.

 Before you can dwell on it for too long, you hit your peak, moaning Erwin’s name, hips moving uncontrollably as you ride out your orgasm.

 He’s speaking, mumbling praise or pleas or curses, you aren’t so sure, but after about another minute of fucking into you relentlessly, Erwin comes, shooting line after line inside of you until he’s spent and twitching. 

 With your two previous partners, this is usually when you’d fall forward and cuddle, catch your breath and enjoy the feeling of being all plugged up.

 But, it’s Erwin, huffing and blinking up at the ceiling then finally stating, “That was a dumb idea.”

 It makes you laugh for some reason, probably because you agree. 

 The sex was great. There is a reason girls talk about him on campus, about his sexual prowess or whatever, and if you weren’t too busy suffocating in your little pit of heartbreak, thinking about your best friend nonstop, you wouldn’t mind fucking Erwin again. And, again and again.

 That’s not gonna happen, though. The heat of the moment is fading, every mental faculty returning to you, and despite the fact that you’re still seated on his cock, as you look down at him, you feel absolutely no spark.

 He’s ridiculously attractive, pretty fucking brilliant but with a dumb sense of humor, and you love him. You really do. He’s done a lot for you over the last semester, made it at least somewhat bearable, but… This shouldn’t have happened. 

 Hopefully, it quelled his curiosity, though.

 “I told you it would just make you feel shitty,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t look sad. Sympathetic more than anything, resigned that he’s probably going to have to pick up the pieces of another mess. 

 “Yeah,” you drawl. “You were right.” Your joints pop as you stand, towering over Erwin for once and leaking his fucking cum as you hop off the bed. 

 “It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he jokes absentmindedly, wiping a few drops of white off his stomach then reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. 

 You don’t feel awkward or out of place, but you have no idea what else to say. The only thing that comes to mind is, “I’m gonna take a shower,” as you walk toward the bathroom.

 Erwin moves on the bed, stretching a little before grabbing his pants and leaving you to your devices, but you pause before stepping onto the tile, turn back and pace over to him.

 “Hey,” you start, and Erwin glances up from the button of his khakis. “Thanks.”

 He rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, and once he’s all zipped and buttoned up, he pulls you into a hug. 

 “I would say any time, but we probably shouldn’t do this again.”

 “Yeah, probably not.”

 You breathe into the space under his collarbone, humming as he gently scratches you back, then break away. “Alright, actually gonna shower now.”

 Erwin nods, “You do that,” then slaps your ass as soon as you turn around. 

 You look at him over your shoulder with raised eyebrows, but he just winks and tells you, “I had to. Just once,” which is fair. 

 You run a hot shower, scrub the shit out of your skin, lather your hair with some fancy shampoo then rinse it off. Once you go through your full routine, you’re happy to change into pajamas and slip into the comfortable bed. You don’t even mind that the comforter is a little damp in various places.

* You don’t stir when the door opens and closes, but you do when the mattress dips. Shifting slightly, you assume it’s just Erwin, falling back into your usual routine by slipping under the covers with you.

 As soon as he lays behind you, though, you know it isn’t Erwin. You recognize that weight, that warmth, that smell, and you are very awake very quickly. 

 “M-Mike?”

 All he offers is a little, “Mm,” to confirm.

 You chew on the inside of your cheek, confused and clueless as to what you’re supposed to do. 

 “Are you drunk again?”

 “No. Little buzzed.”

 Why is he here, then? You want to ask—What is he doing? Why isn’t he with Rhi?

 You start to turn to face him but you're stopped when Mike sets a hand on your back. It's oddly firm, keeping you in place as he grunts, "No, don't."

 "What?" 

 "Don't turn around." His voice is hushed and choppy, like he's gritting out every syllable. 

 "Mike?"

 "I have shit I wanna say to you, and I won't be able to if you're lookin' at me."

 You have no idea how to respond to that, don't know if this is going to be a positive one-sided conversation where Mike confesses deep feelings while actually sober, or if he'll just unload all the baggage you've given him. Either way, you wish you could see his face. Something about having him laying behind you, close enough to feel his body heat, has you feeling very uneasy. 

 But, you nod, "Okay," trying to put on a brave face that he refuses to look at. 

 For a while, he just breathes. You assume it’s because he’s gathering his thoughts or maybe working up the courage to say something, but the suspense is making you shiver under your blankets. You have that terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, the mix of anticipation and regret you get on the way up to the first drop of a rollercoaster. 

 “Why have you been lying to me?”

 And, there’s that drop. 

 You swallow. “I haven’t been.”

 “Bullshit.”

 “Mike, I haven’t been!” You try to turn again, but his large hand is still right in the middle of your back. 

 “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” His fingers close around the material of your shirt. You feel it tighten at your chest, making it hard to breathe—harder to breathe. “How are you gonna tell me that right after sleeping with him?” 

 You open your mouth to argue, realize you can’t make a case for yourself, and when you snap your jaw shut again, the sound of your teeth clacking seems to echo in your head.

 Yesterday, you would have been able to talk to him about this and be honest when telling him you weren’t fucking his best friend. Now, though…

 God, that had been such a bad decision. Why hadn’t you just listened to Erwin? Why can’t you fucking listen to anyone?

 “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike mutters. His grip loosens, but you can still feel a light tug at your shirt, the movement of fingers, and you think he might be rubbing over the material he’s still holding. “Pretty sure all of us could hear you guys goin’ at it, so… Thanks for that.”

 You take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut because it sinks in that this is not going to be nice conversation. This isn’t going to result in the two of you apologizing and making love confessions to each other. 

 “I… I’m sorry.”

 Now, you’re grateful for not being able to see his face. You wouldn’t be able to stand looking at him right now, not when you know his expression will be grim—probably angry. 

 “I can’t really do anything with sorry,” Mike sighs. His hand drops from your back, but you make no move to turn over. 

 Your heart is like a hummingbird’s, beating frantically in your chest as that ache rises inside of you again, making your throat constrict and your eyes burn. 

 “Why’d you invite Rhi tonight?” You ask, hoping your sniffle isn’t too noticeable.

 “Why does it matter?”

 You suppose it doesn’t, but you still want to know, “Is it to get back at me, or is it because you’re actually into her?”

 Mike scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but do you think I’d be in your room at three in the fucking morning if I was into her?”

 It’s probably the closest he’ll get to admitting it, but it’s all you need to hear. He’s been going out of his way to hurt you. At least any pain you’ve caused him wasn’t intentional. Until tonight, that is, and even then, you didn’t fuck Erwin to hurt him; you did it to help yourself. 

 Pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, you hold back tears and mumble a thick, “Just wanted to know.”

 “Want to make sure I’m still interested? That I’ll keep waiting for you to fucking realize—”

 “I have—” You turn over roughly, pinning Mike’s hand under your ribs as you glare at him, but he manages to put more distance between the two of you when he yanks his arm back and sits up.

 “I can’t do this anymore,” he tells you, and you think you hear his voice waver for a second.  

 The orange light pouring in from the bathroom is the only way you can tell his eyes are wide—worried—and it chills all the blood in your body.

 “Wh-what d’you mean?” 

 “I mean, I can’t fucking do this anymore,” he repeats a little louder, drawing it out like it’ll help you understand. “I cannot deal with you anymore. I can’t keep feeling this way, okay?”

 “Mike…”

 “No,” he stops you, acts like he has something else lined up but bites his tongue and sighs. He sits cross-legged on the bed now, hangs his head as he speaks calmly, “This semester has fucking sucked. I am angry all the time. I can’t focus in class, and I can’t play lacrosse without getting in trouble, and I can’t fuck anyone else without feeling bad—I can’t fucking do anything without thinking of you, and I’m—” he looks at the wall and shakes his head. “I’m exhausted.”

 “I am too,” you tell him, voice cracking as that lump in your throat grows and bubbles, pushing hot tears from your eyes that you quickly wipe away. “Mike, I am too, so can we just—”

 “No,” he cuts you off again. “Whatever it is you’re about to say—move on, pretend it didn’t happen, pick up where we left off, whatever… the answer is no.”

 He seems like he already has his mind made up, came into the room with a plan, and he isn’t gonna let you talk him out of it. 

 So, you stay as silent as you can, sniffing and swallowing and letting the comforter catch every teardrop. 

 “I have been… Right in front of you this whole time. I made myself completely available for a year—was at your beck and fucking call. I was—I mean—I was good to you, right?” He sounds incredulous, like he can barely believe he’s asking. 

 “Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah, you were.”

 “Then, why…? Zeke? And, now Erwin?”

 “Do you want me to try to explain, or do you just wanna rant for a while?”

 Mike glances at you, looks surprised that you’d give him the option. 

 “Honestly, I don’t really wanna hear it. You’ve more than proved your point.”

 Indignation swirls in your stomach alongside your nausea, and you press, “My point being?”

 “That I’m not good enough.”

 Oh, god. No, no, no. You could understand him being angry. You’re okay with him being angry, it’s fine. But, this—this feeling of inferiority? That is so much worse. It makes you sick. This is the last thing you’d ever want Mike to feel. It’s the last thing he should feel because it’s false. He has no reason—he’s too good and too kind and too warm. He’s like… He’s fucking sunshine. He can light up a room, and he doesn’t even know it.

 “Mike, n-no,” your voice breaks, making you sound like a wounded animal. “You are so, so good. You are more than enough, I promise.”

 He snorts in a self-deprecating manner. “Then, why—”

 “Because I’m not good enough. I fucked this up. This is my fault, and I can own that as long as you know that there is absolutely no—nothing wrong with you,” the last part comes out as a squeak as you try not to hyperventilate and cry the way your body is urging you to. Not yet. 

 Mike nods a few times. You can see his mouth moving from the side like he’s biting his lip or sucking his teeth until he agrees, “Yeah,” then adds a quiet, “Whatever you say, babe,” that makes you want to throw up.

 Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and stands. You assume he’s about to leave, let you be alone with your thoughts, so when he rounds the corner to get to your side, you sit up a little straighter. 

 Half of his face is illuminated, casting shadows under his eyes, highlighting the bruise on his neck that Rhi probably left, but your gaze is trained on his as he leans down to you. A finger hooks under your chin, and Mike tilts your face at an angle, kissing you so softly that it’s painful. 

 His lips are warm and familiar, everything you’ve been craving as they cover yours. There’s no tongue, no force, just light pressure as he inhales through his nose.

 You know what this is, what he’s doing, but you can’t prepare yourself because there’s still that tiny string of hope you’re grappling for. He just needs a break. You just need to give him space. That’s all—

 “I love you,” Mike murmurs. His voice is low and honest and slices you open. “I love you so fucking much it hurts, and I just—” He brushes a thumb over your lower lip as he pulls away, and it takes everything in you not to grab his hand and beg him to stay. “It’s like I hate you too.”

 You pull away to wipe your face with the blanket. There’s so much you want to say but have no idea how to articulate it, so all you can do is stare at Mike with wide, watery eyes. He… hates you. He hates you. 

 Straightening, Mike’s expression is suddenly nonchalant, like he just flipped a switch in his brain. “I’m not exactly the social butterfly I used to be, but I wanna have fun my last semester of undergrad—make up for the time I lost fucking brooding over you, so—”

 “I’ll stop going to the Pike house,” you tell him quietly. It’s easier to make the decision yourself rather than have to hear it from his mouth: Don’t come around anymore. I don’t want to see you. 

 “Cool. And, if you, like, see me on campus or anything—”

 You cough, maybe gag, you can’t really tell at this point because wow, this just keeps getting worse. 

 “I won’t bother you.”

 “Cool.” He bends to press another much more patronizing kiss to the crown of your head, then starts walking toward the door. “I’m just gonna try to move on, you know? Start fresh. And, you should do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” 

 You don’t watch him leave, just listen for the door to click shut behind him before you crawl out of bed, turn the lights on, and start packing your things. 

 You and Hitch drove together, but you have no doubt that she'll be able to get a ride with Nile, and with that thought, you’re out of the ranch house and on the road just as the first rays of the morning sun start shining over the horizon.

 *

 It’s surprisingly easy for Mike to slip back into his old, obnoxious persona, and the remainder of the school year is spent partying, fucking, and cramming for tests he should have studied for weeks in advance.

 But, life is short, and he’s done beating himself up over stupid shit.

 Most of his PKA brothers are happy to have him “back”, and the pledges get the chance to see this of him, but there are times when Mike catches Erwin or Nile shaking their heads at him. He doesn’t mind much. They can both go fuck themselves for all he cares. 

 True to your word, you don’t show your face around the house. There were a few weeks after the holiday get-together where Erwin would disappear for a few hours at a time and come back either tired or angry, sometimes a combination of the two. 

 He attempted to bring you up in a conversation a total of one time, right in the middle of a party where Mike had been eyeing up a sorority girl. He brushed his friend off, easily telling Erwin, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me about her,” through the crooked grin he was flashing at the little blond across the room. 

 Erwin didn’t bother after that, obviously deeming Mike a lost cause. 

 Mike knows better, though. He isn’t lost anymore. In fact, he’s found himself all over again.

 Every once in a while, he’ll catch a glimpse of you on campus, but whenever that happens, he just turns around and takes a different route to wherever he’s going. He doesn’t want to give you any reason to think you can talk to him—doesn’t want to give you the chance.

 He’s spent too much of his time hung up on you, too much time pining and hurting, and that hasn’t disappeared entirely. Mike can still clearly remember the way you looked at him the last night the two of you spoke, the way your tears twinkled in the dim light. He remembers how strangled you sounded while speaking, remembers the way your shoulders shook as you fought your emotions, remembers the way your lips trembled against his. 

 It wasn’t very satisfying. Mike left the ranch house the following morning sporting a few bruises on the outside thanks to Rhi as well as a few bruises on the inside thanks to you. 

 That entire night had been a clusterfuck—between Maddie and Marie storming off to cry then the little stunt he pulled by inviting Rhi, it had been much too dramatic for a gathering of that size. Mike experienced a wide variety of emotions that night, but the one that stands out the most is the searing rage that threatened to burn him from the inside, the red the clouded his vision as soon as he heard you moan Erwin’s name through the wall. 

 Mike had already been toying with the idea of severing all ties with you, but that’s what pushed him over the edge, watching you put on your little show when Rhi walked in only to turn around and have a grand fucking time with his best friend. 

 It needed to happen. Mike needed to free himself of you. It feels good. Mostly. There are still some days he comes close to giving in, just picking up his phone and calling you, but he resists, and he’s better for it. 

 He gets through his classes, does well on his finals after actually putting in the time to prepare for them, and by the time Mike graduates, he’s already been accepted to the graduate program of his choice and has an internship lined up. The tension between him and Erwin has faded for the most part, which is great since he’s going to grad school in the same area up north. Things look… promising—something he didn’t think possible without you by his side, something he didn’t want to be possible without you by his side. 

 But, now, here he is, unpacking his new apartment with the help of Scout who insists on sniffing absolutely everything. He’s halfway across the country from his parents, away from all he’s ever known, and Mike couldn’t be more thrilled about it. 

 He can go full days without sparing you a thought now, and he hopes—he prays—that one day he’ll think of you for the last time in his life. 

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[parachim]

My summary for reading for June 2022! 13 books this month.

Backwoods Witchcraft: Conjure Folk Magic from Appalachia Jake Richards This was fine. It's played completely straight and I think the author actually does mostly believe what he is talking about (rather than making stuff up and just trying to sell a book to wiccans or whatever).The ethnographic parts of this are far and away the best, but it mostly devolves into 'list of things you can do that are spells' without much thought about the why of it. Tell Me How It Ends: An Essay in Forty Questions Valeria Luiselli America is a bad country! What the hell! I don't think this book says anything outright for open borders but it's a great argument for it. Into the Wild Erin Hunter I was a little too old to be the target demographic of Warrior Cats when it came out. There's still so many memes about it that I wondered if it was actually any good and.......it's okay. The book is not especially deep in plot or prose, but it would wildly appeal to a 4th or 5th grader who loves cats and wants to pretend to be a cat.I wonder how much this book influenced children to try to let their cat be an outside cat or not get the family pet spayed/neutered. The Arc Tory Henwood Hoen This was not a good book. I even wrote a review which I rarely do. I have a suspicion that the author had some sort of in to the publishing world since it's so sub-par. What would I have done to make this better? Make the protagonist not financially well off (she can like, work in the building the dating agency operates out of and gets an offer for the service as some sort of reward) and thus sympathetic. Also make the protagonist actually question the ethics of something that promises to get you your life partner for big $$$$. The No Club: Putting a Stop to Women's Dead-End Work Linda Babcock  Primarily a book for people in academic positions but some broader use as well. Applicable content to people also perceived as women/effeminate. Mostly the moral of the story here is just don't give into every stupid task your boss wants you to do. Hidden Figures Margot Lee Shetterly I'm like 10 years late to the party here but this was good. I get why it's one of the few nonfiction books that got a movie adaption. Illuminates an important history that not many people know about without being too bogged down in details or logistics. The Last Days of the Dinosaurs: An Asteroid, Extinction, and the Beginning of Our World Riley Black I don't normally like phenomenological writing but I think it totally works when the subject is a turtle or a proto-mammal and not a Human Being. Very up-to-date with the modern science of the extinction of the dinosaurs. Bonus points, this book was written by a trans woman. An Economist Walks Into a Brothel: And Other Unexpected Places to Understand Risk Allison Schrager I thought this was going to be mostly about the economics of a brothel but that was only in the first chapter and it doesn't come up again. That's what I wanted to read about! Not risk prevention. Talk about the brothel!! The Island of Sea Women Lisa See This was *shaky hand motion* fine? It's extremely Okay. It seems accurate historically, but I couldn't really care about our protagonist. She's super resentful of her childhood friend her whole life and it's only when she's an old woman that she realizes maybe her friend was suffering too? I just can't really by that she could Not She That for so long.This book has a lot of traumatic things happen to the characters. They don't suffer 100% of the time so it's not outright misery porn, but should a non-Korean author really tell this narrative? I don't know. I don't think it was thoughtlessly done or exploitative, but it's just not really her story to tell. Hitler's Forgotten Children: My Life Inside The Lebensborn Ingrid von Oelhafen The more you learn about Nazi Germany the worst it gets. Not to make everything about current events, but it is an even worse look to learn that abortion was made illegal in Nazi Germany. Also learned about how the same thing happened in Communist Romania. Well, at least the people in charge of that died agonizing and traumatic deaths! The Bitch in the House: 26 Women Tell the Truth About Sex, Solitude, Work, Motherhood, and Marriage Cathi Hanauer  I think I found this book by trying to find audiobooks on 'sex work.' This was about 'sex' and 'word' but not sex work. It also had the fatal flaw of the stories being written mostly by white women who seemed all to be upper middle class if not outright upper class. Oh - woe is me - I may have to hire a nanny to watch my children in our New York City household while I write my book! Who cares? I wish they had gotten some writers who had some real problems. The worst story was the lady who talks about her affair with a black married man as having 'jungle fever'. This book was written in 2002 but I still don't see how the editor didn't ask her to drop that part. It doesn't come up again and it's not relevant. The author of that story's primary insecurity is that she thinks people will judge her for having a married man's baby. Like, just don't tell them that part. It's fine. No one cares. The only redeemable story in here is the woman who talks about raising her little children while her parents are having serious, end-of-life medical issues. An actual struggle, you know? The Art of Dying Well: A Practical Guide to a Good End of Life Katy Butler This was super good. Targeted at older (60+) people who have started to have their own medical problems or their immediate caregivers/relatives (their adult children). Could be good for younger people diagnosed with a terminal illness, not as useful for dying children but could still help. I'm very much in the boat of 'if you're approaching death very soon, ease up on some of the heroic medical measures' and this pretty much captures that in concrete, actionable ways. Empire of Silence Christopher Ruocchio Hey I read a book that was actually on paper - not an ebook! It took me two years, goddamn! This book is a bop. Long without being overlong, good economy and variety of scenes. Good sense of the cultures and beliefs of the characters without having them spelled out to the reader. Of recent SF that I've read this book does a much better job at handling an ancient, sophisticated alien culture. To Sleep in a Sea of Stars gets too bogged down with one million plot points for me to care/puzzle about our ancient aliens. Iron Widow was so damn hokey with the reveal I actually laughed at that point in the audiobook. I want to read the other books in the series (there are some unresolved issues that I'm hoping have a good set up/pay off) but it's so hard to force myself to Read A Book instead of just the audiobook.