#dresses that are clearly styled as business casual and yet are so short I can’t bend over in them without flashing people

[lunar-years]

Why is every clothing website all of a sudden labeling any and every dress that is above the knee a “mini dress” 😭 it’s incredibly hard to tell whether they mean mini as in mini-skirt length barely covering my ass (usually they do) or if they mean a work appropriate knee-length regular short dress because they’re calling it all the same damn thing! The only option is now “mini dress” and then we jump to tea length and maxi like….

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 5)

uh ohh, part 5 baby! im quite enjoying this story so far and i have some fun things planned for it, so i hope you’ll stay with me for them! in today’s part, our fav new celeb couple takes it all the way, though i chose not to include the actual sex part, however im still treating you all with some dirty stuff so enjoy!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 4.6k

warning: NSFW content

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

New couple alert?

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N have been spotted having lunch and grabbing coffee several times in the course of the past few weeks. All the outings looked casual and friendly, they gladly stopped for fans that approached them and the word has it that they’ve been getting closer to each other, though neither of them confirmed anything.

Harry Styles has been known to be single for a while now, only faint rumors swirling up sometimes, but none of them were proven to be true, the young actress is the first woman he has been linked to in a long time. Y/N Y/L/N has been focusing on her blooming career and has been single since her split from long time exboyfriend and fellow actor, Levi Hudson. The pair dated all through 2018, splitting in the beginning of 2019. Hudson has admitted their hectic schedules made it impossible to maintain their relationship while Y/N did not confirm anything.

Styles is going on his world-wide tour soon, while Y/L/N is currently between two projects. The young celebs seem to be enjoying each other’s company and fans have been quick to jump into speculations about their alleged romance, however there is no evidence as of right now.

“Thank you so much for your time, it was a pleasure to talk to you,” the young interviewer smiles at you, holding her hand out and you shake it with a warm smile.

“Thank you for having me! And I really like your shoes, by the way,” you point down at her electric blue pumps that you’ve been eyeing since the start of the interview.

“Oh, thank you! Got them from a vintage store,” she beams, a slight blush playing on her cheeks clearly a little starstruck from your compliment.

“Love those little stores.”

“Me too,” she giggles collecting her papers and notes. “Someone will contact you and your team soon about the photoshoot and I’ll email you a draft of the interview in about a week.”

“That’s perfect, thank you so much,” you nod at her grabbing your purse from the side table next to you. Grabbing your phone from the depth of it you smile to yourself upon seeing the text from Harry.

“Call me when you’re done with the interview Xx.”

You say your goodbye to everyone before heading out of the building. Lawrence is at the front waiting for you in the car and he greets you with a warm smile when you sit into the backseat. As he starts the car and heads back to your home, you call Harry, who picks it up after the second ring.

“Hey! How was the interview?” he beams brightly, his voice immediately making you smile.

“Great! This young girl did it and she had some exciting questions.”

“Sounds lovely. Can’t wait to buy a Cosmopolitan with you on the cover soon,” he says and you can hear the grin through his voice.

“Will look good in your hands for sure,” you chuckle.

“Right. So I have a question for you.”

“Go for it.”

“I’m doing this very small show at Beacon Theater this weekend, kind of a practice before the real tour begins and I was wondering if you’d be up to come. Would love to have you there.”

“When is it exactly?”

“Saturday at nine. I know it’s a short notice and I get it if you have something else going on, just wanted to ask.”

“I think I can make it work,” you smile, thinking back at what your day looks like on Saturday. “Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! Just let me know how many people so I can have the tickets sent over to you.”

“Thank you. It’s sweet of you to think about me.”

“You know I always think about you,” he murmurs and his voice sends a shiver down your spine. Crazy to think how much he can affect you with just his words, he just has a special spell on you, it seems.

“Still such a flirt, I see,” you chuckle, feeling your cheeks heating up as you hear his soft laugh on the other end of the line.

“For you, always.”

“Alright. I’ll text you about the tickets and thank you again. Can’t wait to see you perform finally.”

“It’s been due for a while now, right? Kind of promised you some tickets on Ellen, if I remember correctly.”

“You did!” you laugh thinking back at the time you met him. How funny that just one short game on a talk show led the two of you here. You have to thank Ellen though.

“Now I’m finally keeping my promise. Talk to you later then, Love. Have a great day.”

“You too, Harry.”

 You manage to convince Sydney to join you for the concert, she sounds excited when you ask if she had anything to do on Saturday. Seeing Harry perform before his tour kicks off is a thrill for her she wouldn’t pass on for anything, so she is really grateful that you thought of her as your plus one.

Harry has your passes sent over to your place on Friday and it comes with a bouquet of flowers as well as a card.

“Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. What’s your favorite song? I’ll make sure to perform it just for you. –H”

He never fails to make you feel like the only woman on the planet and you can definitely see why so many fall for him even without meeting him. The man has all the power to charm anyone with just a smile.

You put the flowers into a vase and leave them on your dining table before grabbing your phone and sending him a quick text.

“It’s Only Angel,” you simply write, hoping he’ll get it why you just wrote that. Luckily, he does.

“Straight to the setlist. Dedicated to You.”

 Finishing up the last touches to your makeup you bop your head to the song blasting through the stereo. It’s Only Angel, of course. You’ve had it on repeat all afternoon and now you can’t wait to actually see Harry perform it live.

Just as you are about to get changed, Syd arrives so you let her in with a beaming smile and when she hears the music upon walking into your place she cheers in excitement.

“Yes! This is such a jam!” she smirks, doing a little dance as you lock the door behind her.

“You look fantastic, Syd,” you tell her. The black short dress looks amazing paired with the lilac oversized blazer. Her makeup matches the same color and you are obsessed with the fishnet tights. She will surely make men wish she was into them.

“Thank you! Spent two hours figuring out what to wear, so I hope I look fantastic,” she giggles.

She helps you put together your outfit as well. Wide legged flaming red pants that make your waist look snatched, a black sheer top tucked into it with just a black bralette underneath. You already know Harry will be a fan of the skin you’re showing, you can’t wait to see his face when he finally spots you.

You quickly pack your essentials into a black Chanel purse along with stuff you need for a possible sleepover if things might take a pleasant turn, and you finish with everything just when the doorman calls up through the intercom that Lawrence has arrived.

“So, what’s the deal with you and him, if I may ask?” Syd questions in the car, not in a nosy way, more like a curious, friendly way.

“We are… getting close,” you say, tasting the word on your tongue. You haven’t labeled whatever you have going on with Harry, nor do you really know what it should be called. You’ve been trying hard to make time for each other as much as possible, making small lunch and coffee dates a regular thing. He came over to your place one evening for a movie and that’s the only time you were able to be alone with him, though nothing sexual happened. Yet. The real deal is yet to happen and if you are being honest you are running short on patience. It’s getting harder to hold yourself back and keep your hands to yourself as well when you are out with him, but you agreed to keep it lowkey out in the public.

Tonight, however, you have a feeling what you’ve been waiting for so long might actually happen and you can only hope Harry is planning the same thing. You are absolutely ready to bluntly ask if he wants to spend the night at your place.

“But you’re heading… somewhere, right?”

“I hope so,” you smile shyly.

“That’s amazing. I think you two are a match,” Syd smirks at you.

By the time you arrive to the venue the gates have been opened so people are busy getting inside, giving you the chance to walk inside through the backdoors without any fuss.

“Miss, Harry requested me to usher you to his dressing room when you arrive,” the girl at the door smiles at you with a clipboard in her hands and a headset covering her ears.

“Oh, alright,” you nod, turning to Syd. “You go ahead and get us a good place,” you tell her and she nods walking away with a wave as she heads up to the second floor that’s fully reserved for friends and family.

Following the girl down the hallway you are led to a room that has Harry’s name on it. She gently knocks on the door and a few moments later it flies open, revealing Harry in a colorful suit and a simple white button-down shirt. He looks breathtaking, hair fixed perfectly and the wide grin stretching across his lips when he sees you standing there.

“You’re here!” he breathes out, grabbing your hand and pulling inside, snatching you away from the preying eyes. Once the door clicks closed behind you, he is quick to press his lips to yours in a sweet welcoming kiss. Ever since your first official date he hasn’t passed on any chance to kiss you whenever you had the luxury of privacy to yourselves, which hasn’t happened too much, leaving you both with a growing hunger for each other every time you meet.

“Mm of course I am,” you smile against his lips before pecking them one last time and leaning back. “Looking great, Mr. Styles,” you grin, taking your time to wander your eyes down on him.

“Yeah? Like the suit?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I love your outfit as well. M’gonna have a hard time not thinking about you on the stage.”

“Please think about me,” you breathe out with a coy smile.

“Don’t fucking say that to me, you are giving me a hard time,” he groans and you just chuckle at the tortured look on his face.

“Sorry,” you mumble, but your face doesn’t meet your words. He squeezes your waist gently, pecking your lips in a rush before he lets go of you.

“I need to go over a few things before we start, so just go ahead and join Syd. Meet me here after the show?”

“Yeah, perfect,” you nod smiling. “Good luck out there,” you wink and he grins at you with bright eyes. His hands grab onto yours before you head out, pulling you in for one last kiss before you leave.

You feel flustered and you take a few deep breaths on your way up to the gallery to find Syd who managed to get an amazing spot at the front on the left side.

They offer everyone up on the gallery some champagne before the show starts and looking around you see a few familiar faces, but no one you specifically know. You stick with Sydney who is over the moon about the show and you are kind of sharing her excitement.

When the lights go down and the music finally starts, you can’t help but join in with the screams that fill the theater.

You’ve seen videos of him performing, in One Direction and solo as well. You’ve seen pictures and you’ve heard the words about how amazing he is on stage, but none of those live up to the actual experience. The sensation that takes over you just by seeing him appear on the stage as the whole theater chants his name as one, it completely sweeps you off your feet and for a second you wonder how you could live a life without this experience.

When his voice starts to flow through the massive speakers you need to take a deep breath, a shiver runs down your spine and you chug down the rest of your champagne so you could get rid of the glass and hold onto the railing with both hands because you feel like you need to ground yourself before you shoot into the sky.

Song after song, he performs perfectly, bringing every single person in the audience to that euphoric state they’ve been probably seeking their whole life. The experience is surely one of a kind, something you’ll definitely be thinking about for a long time.

Time seems to stop, though it cruelly carries on even when you forget about it completely. The concert is nearing its end and Harry takes a breather as he places his guitar to the stand behind him. You watch his every move as he walks back to the microphone, his gaze moving up to the gallery, roaming through the people until they find you.

“This last song is dedicated… to my Only Angel,” he murmurs into the microphone as the audience erupts, blows up at once and your heart skips a beat when his eyes linger over you for a little longer before the music starts to play.

You faintly hear Syd screaming next to you, probably aware that the dedication was addressed to you, but you can’t tear your eyes off of the man on the stage.

He nails it perfectly, looking like an absolute rockstar that he truly is and for a moment you can’t believe you have his attention and interest. How can such a precious and unbelievably talented man be in your reach?

Because I deserve great things in life, you tell yourself, a little mantra you’ve gotten around to repeat every time you found yourself doubting your success and happiness.

The concert eventually ends and though no one in the room desires the end of it, Harry leaves and you are abruptly brought back to reality.

“That was… something else truly,” Syd breathes out as the two of you linger around a little longer, trying to come down from the high you just experienced.

“Yeah. He is so fucking talented it’s almost unfair,” you chuckle running a hand through your hair.

“This tour will kill thousands of people all around the world,” she muses and for a moment, reality sets in and you realize that Harry will leave for his worldwide tour very soon, leaving you behind.

You get rid of the thought, not wanting to stress over something that’s not relevant just yet and you don’t want to ruin the evening either. Fears and stress can wait a little longer.

The two of you make your way backstage, walking into a bit of a chaos as all close friends and family want to congratulate to Harry and the band as well. Standing at the side you let everyone have their time, barely even seeing Harry in the sea of people in the spacious green room. Syd keeps you company as you wait and about thirty minutes later it seems like the crowd is starting to loosen up.

Harry spots you and excuses himself immediately from his conversation with a couple, heading in your direction with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his pretty face.

“Congrats, that was mind-blowing,” you smirk as he reaches you, a hand curling around your waist as he leans down and places a kiss to your cheek, keeping it as moderate as possible, though you both just want to jump at each other.

“Thank you, Love,” he nods, a blush tinting his cheeks from your words. “Hello Sydney, so great to see you again,” he greets the girl next to you and they share a short hug.

“Hi! Loved the show so much!” she giggles in excitement.

“Thank you for coming.”

The three of you chat for a while before Sydney says she is gonna call herself an Uber, so after saying her goodbye she leaves you alone with Harry, as much as you can be alone with a bunch of other people around.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he clears his throat as his hand finds its way back to the small of your back.

“Go for it.”

“We are gonna grab a drink at some bar, but nothing over the top and I wanted to ask if you would want to join.”

“Sounds good,” you smile, feeling a little disappointed. This is not exactly what you wanted him to ask. Luckily, he is not done with his questions.

“Also… I-If it’s cool by you, I thought that… maybe you could come over?”

“Mmm, go over and do what?” you tease him, your smile stretching wider with each passing moment.

“I have plenty of ideas, Love,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “We could drop by your place if you need anything to stay over.”

“No need. Packed a bag,” you slyly grin at him, taking him by surprise clearly, but it’s surely a pleasant one.

“Always a step ahead of me, huh?” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

It takes some time to actually leave the venue and head off to the bar with a close group of friends of him and the band. A secluded area was already reserved for you that has its own bar, so you could enjoy the evening without worrying about preying eyes of strangers or fans. You really weren’t in the mood to keep your distance from Harry, this way at least you were able to touch each other in a more intimate way without speculations swirling up immediately.

You get to know his band and some of his friends, they are all genuinely amazing people, but you weren’t expecting anything else. You figured he only surrounds himself with people like him. His hands often find your waist and he doesn’t shy away from kissing your cheek or giving your hips a gentle squeeze, just letting you know you have his attention and he appreciates that you’re there.

It’s nearing one am when the guests start leaving and soon enough you find yourself in the back of your car with Harry, heading to his place, while you try your best to keep your hands away from him. You wouldn’t put Lawrence through the trauma of having to see or hear something he shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop you from kissing, something you’ve been dying to do all night. Your hand rests on his thigh while he has an arm curled around your shoulders, keeping you tight by his side, delicately brushing his nose against your hair every time your lips are not connected.

“Thank you, Lawrence. I’ll call myself a taxi in the morning, have the day off,” you tell your driver who smiles in your way thankfully while Harry grabs your and his bags from the back of the car.

“Thank you, Miss. Enjoy your night,” he nods in your way as you shut the door closed.

You try to take your duffel bag from Harry, but he insists to carry it as the two of you walk inside his house.

“Want something to drink? Water, tea or something?” he asks, setting the bags down near his giant, comfortable looking couch. Your thoughts immediately wander to a dirty field, picturing him sitting on that very couch as you kneel in front of him, pleasuring him so good that his eyes roll back…

“Yeah, water please,” you say clearing your throat. Some hydration will come handy after the drinks you chugged down at the bar.

You follow him as he shuffles into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and a bottled water from the fridge for you, pouring some into the glass before handing it to you.

“Thank you. You have a nice place for yourself,” you tell him, looking around in his home.

“Thanks. Been working on it for a while,” he chuckles softly. “Feels a bit too big for just myself though.”

You finish the water and set your eyes at him, feeling your hunger for him grow with each passing moment. Placing the empty glass to the marble counter you take a step closer to him.

“You feel lonely often?” you question in a low voice. His eyes return to you and you are happy to see the same lust in them.

“Would say so, yes,” he nods, running his tongue over his pink lips before he reaches out and grabbing you by your hips, he draws you close to him. Leaning down his lips brush against the shell of your ear, a shiver runs down your spine when you hear his whisper in it. “Hope it’ll change soon.”

At a loss of patience, you grab his face and angle it perfectly so you can kiss him hard. And by hard, you mean real hard. He stumbles back from the force, but manages to keep his balance, returning the kiss just as vehemently as he receives it, a tug of war starting between the two of you.

His hands work fast on the sheer fabric of your shirt, pulling it out from the waistband of your pants, getting rid of it eagerly as his lips wander down on your neck, collarbones and chest. He easily turns the two of you around so you are pushed against the edge of the countertop, his hips pushed against you and it’s clearer that daylight just how excited he is to have you here tonight. Your eyes flicker over to the couch again and the desire to please him with your mouth just bursts, you can’t hold yourself back anymore.

So you push him away from you, grabbing his wrist and yanking him after you, heading towards the couch. You push him down and his lustful eyes follow every move of yours as you kneel in front of him and he realizes what you are about to do. He doesn’t stop you when you work to unbutton his pants, but his hand finds your chin and he pulls you up for a swift, but passionate kiss.

Once you successfully undid his pants he lifts his hips and you spare some time and energy, pulling them down along with his underwear, leaving him only in his vintage printed t-shirt as his cock springs free. You push your thighs together just at the sight of him, the way his eyes burn down on you, how his lips part when your gazes meet and the way he sucks on his breath when your fingers dig into his thighs near his crotch as you situate yourself closer.

“I believe I owe you an orgasm, don’t I?” you ask with a cheeky smirk before wrapping your left hand around the base of his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get him even more excited. A whimpered moan slips from his lips and you lean closer, giving his cock a lick from bottom to top, wrapping your lips around the head as you swirl your tongue around it.

“Fuck hell!” he breathes out, clearly enjoying himself, hands fisting the cushion next to him, but you bet they’ll be buried in your hair soon.

You’re not an expert in the field of blowjobs, but it’s been your thing to come barging right through the door and jump the easy teasing whenever you were on your knees for a man. So with your hands fixed on his beautiful face, you sink down on him, his cock gliding into your mouth right until the tip reaches the back of your throat, earning the loudest moan you’ve heard from him. Shutting your eyes closed you keep him like that for a second until the urge to gag starts to set in, so you slide him out, your saliva dripping down his erection as your eyes meet his and you can tell you shocked him with your bold first move.

“Do that one more time and I won’t last for a minute,” he warns breathing heavily and you just smirk up at him before going into action again, this time only taking a smaller portion of him, pumping the base to make up for the lack of deep throating, but it appears that he enjoys just the simple part of it equally. As you keep bobbing your head, taking as much of him as you can without gagging, his right hand flies to your hair, taking a handful of it as he gently guides your head, keeping it in the rhythm that works the best for him and you happily let him do whatever makes him feel good.

When your free hand goes to gently massage his balls your name erupts from him in the most voluptuous way you’ve heard him call out for you. As if he just cried out for God himself.

“Y/N, fuck, I won’t last long,” he warns you, but that’s all you want. You need to see him come undone under your touch, you want to be the reason his breath hitches. Picking up your pace you see him whimper some more, head falling backwards to the back of the couch. It’s a heavenly view and you wish you could take a picture of his beauty as he enjoys himself on this intimate level. You’ve never wanted to please a man more than him and just seeing him in this blissful state makes you wet through your underwear.

When his breathing starts to get uneven, chest heaving wildly, you take all of him again, his head poking the back of your throat and you push your tongue against his length as you slide him out, picking up the same pace that you kept before, both hands working hard on him.

“Fuck! I-I’m gonna cum!” he warns again and just a few seconds later, you feel the evidence of his satisfaction spurt into the back of your throat, eyes falling on you as you give him one last lick before swallowing everything that’s in your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out pulling you up, eagerly kissing you without a second thought, his hands cupping your cheeks to keep you in place. “You surely know how to kill a man, yea?” he huffs making you chuckle.

“Think you can go for a second one?” you sheepishly ask, blinking up at him from under your long lashes.

“I’ll have enough time to recover while I eat you out like you’re my last meal,” he bluntly replies, and a moan almost slips from your lips.

“Show me what you got, Styles,” you challenge him and he doesn’t need more, he easily picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he heads straight to the bedroom.

“As you wish, Angel,” he mumbles against your skin, peppering your neck and shoulder with featherlike kisses along his way until he throws you to his bed, ruthlessly tearing the remaining of your clothes off your body.

PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

[burnedbyshoto]

house sitting & concupiscence

— In which Endeavor asks Shouto for a favor, and Shouto decides to take his payment by fucking you on his bed. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, 18+ smut, dom!shouto, masturbation, toys (spreader bar, bondage, vibrator, collar, leash, gag, & fuck machine), master kink, spanking, temperature play, marking, pain, choking, torture punishment, overstimulation, voyeurism, slapping, oral (giving), hair pulling (receiving), semi-brat taming, anal (receiving), breeding kink

word count: 18,631

a/n: i know its long, but,,, please read LMAO. this took me a full ass week to write. im exhausted, im buzzing because idk how this went LMAOOOO, let me know what you think! please carefully read the warning, I will not be addressing anything about anal in my askbox (unless youre roasting me, which is understandable because lmao)

message to join tag list :)

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“Why are we going to your dad’s house?”

Tonight was supposed to be your date night with Shouto, and given that for the past two months, the two of you had been busy every day and night adjusting to being working adults, the two of you had been excited to go out. Next week would make two years, but it seemed the two of you would only be able to celebrate it during the dead of night. So, with a kind smile and a gentle kiss, you convinced Shouto that the two of you could celebrate the week prior. After all, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t quite two years; you both loved each other plenty enough to overlook the actual date.

Like for any celebration, you found yourself sitting in front of your vanity mirror as you applied your makeup. Your hair was done up in the most elegant style you could muster on your own, and you wore a simple yet gorgeous little black dress. Your head tilted in the mirror as you looked at your reflection. Your legs were shapely and smooth from the increased physical work you were doing, and the heels you paired with the outfit hung from your fingers.

You thought you looked hot, to say the least. What you didn’t expect was for Shouto to step into your shared room with his nostrils flared and eyes cold. Your eyes widened as you turned toward him, but the anger in his face disappeared immediately as he took you in.

His eyebrow quirked; a natural smile pressed into his face as his hands shoved into the pocket of his slacks.

“Don’t you look beautiful,” Shouto comments as he strolls up next to you. The steps were so casual, it was as if the two of you were strangers flirting in a bar, and not lovers two years into a serious relationship. “Who got you this outfit?”

Biting your lip, you chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck, and you relaxed as he locked his around your waist. Your fingers rose to brush his short hair, the undercut was new, but it was a look you very much enjoyed on him.

Rising up onto your toes, you smile, seeing the way he leans towards you until your ruby painted lips brush against his earlobe.

“Your brother,” you tease, laughing loudly as he moves away, mock disgust and jealousy on his face.

“My brother? I’ll teach you to accept such pretty things from people who aren’t me,” Shouto warns as his fingers slip under the hem of the dress, eliciting a shout from you. He doesn’t seem to be deterred as his fingers hike the skirt of the dress further up until your cheeks turn red, and your protests are nothing but stutters.

“T-The reservations, Shoucchan,” you manage to get out as his lips press against your jugular vein.

“What about them?” Shouto mumbles against your skin as he backs you towards the bed.

“They’re s-soon,” you gasp as his teeth skim your skin, and his hands massage slowly against your ass. “We can’t miss it.”

Two months of hardly seeing each other also meant two months of not having sex or any sort of physical contact, and your actions exposed your need quickly. Your heels dropped with a loud clang, and you let Shouto do as he pleased.

To your dismay, however, the clatter of your heels on the floor caused Shouto’s ministrations to cease. Your eyes blinked as you focused back on him, your chest hammering and lust scorching your skin as you tried to concentrate on your boyfriend.

“Shouto?”

His eyes were once more consumed with the irritation and annoyance that had plagued him before you two interacting. Groaning loudly, you did not miss the way his eyes rolled before he focused back onto you.

“…we have to cancel the reservation.”

So, there you sit in the car, still dressed up with Shouto to your right driving, his hands clenching so tight around the wheel that his knuckles are white.

You sigh and tug his arm towards you. The way he attempts to jerk his arm away doesn’t escape you, but you still clutch his arm and lace your fingers with his. You place a soft kiss to the back of his hand and smile when you see him relax. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“Are you going to answer my question, or are you going to leave me in the dark?” You ask again, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

Shouto sighs and looks over at you. His face is still set with annoyance, but his eyes brighten when he looks at you, and his lips quirk into the smallest of smiles.

“You’re annoying,” he says, and you scoff in protest. He smiles broader and brings your hand to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to it.

Shifting in the leather seat to face him a bit better, you stretch towards him, your eyes wide with curiosity. “Answer my question, brat!”

Shouto sits there for a bit, gathering his emotions before he sighs, annoyed once again. “He asked Fuyumi-nee to take care of his house for tonight.”

Your eyebrows scrunch. You know that Fuyumi has a vital interview tomorrow for her job, and knowing the hero’s life, she would have to stay there late into the night. “Doesn’t she have the—?”

“Yeah, so she said no,” Shouto sighs, his hand in yours tightening. “Natsuo also has a lot of exams, and he and Endeavor aren’t on good terms still, so… that’s why he couldn’t take it. So, Endeavor called me and pulled a ‘you owe me a favor’ card from our second year. Didn’t fucking care that I had plans.”

“Why does he need someone to take care of his house?” You ask, trying to keep Shouto from hyper-fixating onto Endeavors’ ignorance detail. “He lives there alone?”

“He’s paranoid about some low-class villains going to his door when no one is there since his address was exposed,” Shouto rolls his eyes as the two of you pull into the driveway of Endeavors Residence. “Some fucking number one hero he is.”

“And he wanted Fuyumi to watch the house?!” You gasp, your eyes widening. Shouto nods his head as he unbuckles his seatbelt, and he’s out of the door before you could finish asking your question. You sigh and unbuckle your belt, knowing how infuriated Shouto is.

Your brush your hair out of your face, and the car door opened. You looked up with a small grin as Shouto offered you a hand.

“If I’m being forced to spend our anniversary here, I’m going to do it correctly, as if everything was going according to plan.”

Giggling, you let Shouto help you out of the car, and you couldn’t help but bring your exasperated boyfriend in for a gentle kiss. The kiss lasts less than a few seconds, but as you pull away, the irritability on Shouto’s face is gone as he smiles.

“I love you,” he says, closing the car door behind you.

“I love you too.” You smile like a lovestruck idiot as he begins to lead you to the front door. “We should have brought our costumes; surprise a few lowlives with our signatures.”

“Are you suggesting we let them rob Endeavor?” Shouto asks as he unlocks the front door.

“I just might be!” You laugh as you step in and remove your shoes.

It was currently five in the evening, and thus your date night commenced.

After two hours, you found yourself curled up on Shouto’s lap. You busied yourself with shoving popcorn in his mouth as you two watched Avatar the Last Airbender. The two of you had been watching it together since Shouto finally confessed that he had no idea why he was always compared to Prince Zuko.

Months of watching a few episodes every occasional night when you two had time lead you two to the finale now.

“I see the comparison now,” Shouto admitted with a mouthful of popcorn, and you hushed him again.

“Zuko may die!” You cried as on the screen, Zuko faced off with Azula, “He can lose, and you finally getting the comparison to the hottest man in the world is not a good excuse to distract me!”

“We can use fire, a scar, and a horrible father,” Shouto continues talking despite your attempts to quiet him as fire and lightning roared on the screen. “I was never the bad guy, was I?”

“You were a complete prick in the beginning, like Zuko,” you point out as you still focus entirely onto the T.V., “I mean, you did threaten to kill someone when we were fifteen. Talk about edgy! Plus, you didn’t want friends until Deku destroyed half of his body for you!”

“You’re an asshole,” Shouto huffs as he pushes you off of him, and you groan as you watch as he stands up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You call after him as you sit up onto your knees, you faced him as he walked out with his cellphone raised for you to see that he was getting a call from Endeavor.

Your mouth drops, and you nod as Shouto walks outside to talk with his dad. You settle back down onto the couch and grab the remote, pausing the show and sinking into the sofa. Your fingers brush against your dress as you wait for Shouto to come back.

It felt like an eternity before Shouto returned; the front door slamming behind him, causing you to wince. Shouto stormed over, his eyes blazing with fury, and he clenched a case in his hand as he glared in your direction. It would have been unsettling had you not known whom his anger was directed at. He stops a few strides away from you, clearly not in the mood to finish up the Avatar series.

“What happened, baby?” You ask, standing up. A soft scoff escapes his lips as he shakes his head.

“He thought I was here alone,” Shouto explains, his head low. “He makes me come take care of his house, knowing that I had plans tonight, then he expected me to be here alone?!”

Your eyes widen as a chill runs down your spine. Endeavor was not a people person, that was a given, and there was no saying whether or not he liked you being Shouto’s girlfriend, but for him to not like the idea of being here was a bit off-putting.

“Do you need me to leave?” you find yourself asking as you walked over to Shouto with short strides. You knew that their relationship, while it had vastly improved since three years ago, was still rocky. You wanted Shouto to be as comfortable around his dad as much as possible, even if it meant you stepping away when needed. “I can get—”

“No,” Shouto snaps, his nostrils flaring, a furious fire flashing in his eyes, and his lips curling into a wry smile. “You’re not leaving.”

“If Endeavor doesn’t want me—”

“Fuck what Endeavor wants,” Shouto growls as he lets you pull him into a soft embrace, but he’s tense and doesn’t melt into your touch like he usually does. “I want you, y/n, and he ruined our night. He doesn’t have the damn right to tell me what I can or can’t do when I’m happy.”

You nervously licked your lips as you stroked his back gently in hopes of derailing his palpable anger. There was just no use in having Shouto getting worked up about something that Endeavor wasn’t going to be able to change in the long run anyway.

“It’s okay,” you whisper as you pull away, your eyes trying to shine brightly as you press a gentle kiss to his mouth. “I won’t leave!”

There’s a harsh stream of air that escapes his nose, and he’s stiff against you, his lips unmoving, but he returned the kiss nonetheless.

“This is our night,” you whisper against his mouth as your lips press against his jawline and pepper slow kisses down his jaw. He seems to have an internal battle of remaining angry and caving to your touch. “You have a room here, it’s just us two, let’s have some fun! Come on, forget about Endeavor.”

As a hero, there were moments where you could feel impending danger or something on the horizon. Be it a sixth sense, or just fantastic gut feeling, but the moment those words left your mouth, they hit you in the gut. Pulling away, your eyes focus on Shouto, whose eyes are shut tight, and you watch as his jaw muscle flares before his eyes open.

Todoroki Shouto was no longer his younger self. While still prone to acting solely on his emotions, he was in control. The last time you had seen the pure rage in Shouto’s eyes was long before the two of you had been together, and something crawled down your spine as you attempted to speak, to understand what he was thinking about, and to stop whatever he was planning.

But then he let out a dark chuckle.

And you were too slow.

His mouth slams against yours, and your body goes back with the collision, but he doesn’t let you free. His kiss is hot, drowning, intoxicating, and full of burning energy that you didn’t realize he had in him. His free hand presses into your lower back, keeping you pressed against him as his mouth tries to get you to break. Your hands press against his shoulders in an attempt to slow him down, but it doesn’t seem to have the effect you were hoping for.

His hand leaves the bottom of your back to tangle into your hair, your resounding groan of both pain and pleasure resonates through you, and it clouds your judgment. Your hands — against your better sense — wrap around the back of his neck, drawing him in closer. His hot tongue swiped at your bottom lip immediately.

Not wanting to give in to his insistence, you purse your lips against his harsh kiss. He didn’t seem to agree with you. The hand that held the black case smacked against your ass, and you gasped at the stinging pain as the case rattled.

His tongue invades your mouth in an intense affair, and your mind spins at the way his tongue drops in temperature before warming up. It sends a pleasant and dull throb through your body, and you moan into his mouth. Were you really going to let Shouto fuck you in a house that wasn’t yours? The two of you had fucked in places that weren’t your house, but it was never a family home, much less his dad’s house, but his tongue curls to tease the roof of your mouth, and it sends an uncontrollable shudder down your spine.

Your cheeks glow with embarrassment, and your eyes are wide in shock. “Shouto’s really going for it,” you thought. His lips are scorching, but it’s his eyes that make your thighs tremble. His eyes are nearly glowing with lust and desire, there’s still that animosity in his eyes and a sense of arrogance that made you want nothing more than to retaliate.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s happening tonight,” Shouto smirks, and you pant trying to control your racing heart.

“You know I am,” you lie confidently, despite the tremor in your voice and the weakness in your knees.

His hand moves to your cheeks, and you feel a growing heat from his hand as he places yet another ardent kiss onto your slowly bruising lips. Shouto’s lips are magnetic against yours, continuously pulling you in, sucking you in until you were gasping for more. Then he would move to nibble on your senseless lips in your overwhelmed state.

Low and soft pants with intermixed gasps begin to leave your mouth as you try to calm down, this kiss was so unlike his typical embrace, but you fucking loved this dominant persona that he dons. Your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him nearer, eliminating the space between you so that nothing could dare to come between, but your hips have a mind of their own, and you feel yourself grinding your crotch against his.

A low and nearly angry hiss leaves his lips, and your breath hitches as his mouth leaves yours. In a fashion similar to yours earlier that day, his mouth presses multiple kisses against your jawline, but they’re sturdy, intense, and full of teeth. Your mouth drops as you let out a curled moan at the feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin below your jaw.

It wasn’t a typical love bite; this was marking. You could feel his intent to break your skin with the mark, and the heat between your legs flared as he took a step forward, and with that, you made a step back.

You’ve only been to this house a few times, and most of the time, you only come here for Fuyumi’s sake of keeping the family close. Awkward yet lively dinner conversations had led to Shouto showing you his childhood room that hadn’t been touched since he was fifteen. Sure, the two of you were nineteen, but a bedroom that hadn’t been touched in four years was something sinisterly haunting.

Shouto’s bedroom was the closest to the master bedroom — Endeavors room. That you knew because the grandest and most intricately beautiful door in this house belonged to Endeavors’ room.

Imagine the horror that sank in your when your lust hazed vision watched as Shouto’s childhood room passed you and your back hit a door.

“Shouto! This is—”

“I know,” Shouto growled against your burning neck. He had left enough bites on your neck to hurt, but the throbbing pain only added to the throbbing heat of your core. “You deserve to be fucked on a good bed, not my childhood one.”

“But Endeavor!” Pathetically you try to get him to move off you, but Shouto opens the door, and the two of you stumble in. “We can’t—!”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles as he pulls away from your marked neck, “he won’t know.”

Your eyes widened as he lets you go, and you hesitated in moving towards the enormous bed before you. This was too much, you couldn’t let Shouto fuck you on his dad’s bed! That would be so disrespectful! Blatant and honest disrespect! Even if Shouto was in a “fuck his dad” mood, you couldn’t let this happen.

Turning to face your boyfriend, the release of him on your body, allowing you to think logically, you were ready to stay firm in your decision.

“What are you doing?” Shouto asks as he walks to the bed, placing the black box onto the bed with a quirked eyebrow. “Get on the bed.”

“N-No,” you wheeze out. Wow, go confident you! “We can’t fuck on Endeavors bed! T-That’s going too far! I… I can’t do that!”

Shouto blinked slowly, once, twice, and then returned his attention back to the case as he released the clasps.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shouto says as he lays out a few things from the box, and a nervous shiver goes down your spine as you see what he brought.

A collar, leash, vibrator wand, ball gag, a spreader bar with bondage cuffs, so much lube, and a fucking machine.

Your jaw drops as he lays them out neatly, his eyes turning back towards you, and there’s a silent moment where the two of you simply stare at each other.

“That’s going too far,” you squeak as you pull at the hem of your dress, the nerves hit you as he shifts to look at you directly. “I can’t… if Endeavor found out, he’s going to kill us!”

“Endeavor isn’t going to find out,” Shouto’s upper lip curled into a snarl as his eyes flashed dangerously. “We’ll wash the sheets, whatever the hell makes you convinced he won’t find out. But right now? I fucking need you the way I was planning on having you.”

His words fall almost alluringly in your ears, and goosebumps flash across your skin; butterflies fly in your stomach as you moan at the thought of what his intentions were for tonight. You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you thought it over, trying to figure out what exactly you needed to do because there was no getting out of this. You were beyond horny now, but it didn’t take much to see the danger in doing this.

But no, you couldn’t do this!

“Shouto, let’s — oh my god!”

Shouto, while you were lost in your thoughts, had begun to strip off his shirt. His toned and scarred torso ridiculously defined in the lighting of the room, and he stared at you dead-on as he ran a hand through his falling locks. Your breathing turns into a frenzy as he walks over to you, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks until he’s centimeters before you.

Your eyes struggle not to scour your boyfriend’s body like some hormonal fangirl, you recited the Pro Hero Guidebook in your head as you fought off the urge to just jump him. Were pheromones a thing for humans? If they were, he was definitely putting you under some spell that was making you succumb to his own lusts.

“I know what I want,” he whispers as his lips brush against your sore neck, and a voluptuous moan resounds loudly from you. Your breasts rise and fall quickly as your hands press against his warm skin, and your eyes flutter closed as his lips press heavier against your skin. “I know what I need. I need you more than life itself, and I only want you, y/n.”

Not daring to open your eyes in fear of having this gone too soon, you feel yourself nodding.

“Fuck me right then…”

A chuckle deep in his throat reverberated against you, and then you felt his lips back on you.

Hot, fast, dangerous.

You struggled to keep up as Shouto tossed you up, and your legs automatically went to wrap around his waist.

Hunger, desire, need.

That was the way Shouto kissed you right now, his lips downright eager, yet it wasn’t the right word to use. You could feel his hard-on pressing against your ass as you drew him in closer. Hands pressed against his neck, clawing at the bare skin as you wanted more from him — you craved more from him.

It was when you pressed your chest into him that caused a small yelp of protest to escape your lips. In your impassioned drunkness, Shouto had been holding your ass firmly in his grip. His fingers digging into your soft flesh under the hem of your dress until he seemed to be sick of it.

The sound of ripping fabric echoed in your ears as you pulled away from Shouto’s luring mouth. The dress fell loose around your body as you watched as he pulled the remains of your dress from between the two of you. You slammed your hands against his chest in protest as Shouto took the destroyed material and tossed it onto the floor.

“It was in the way,” Shouto chuckles as he ignores your protests as he brings you back in for another kiss. “I’ll buy you a new one, I’m the one who bought it after all.”

Your eyes twitch as his fingers trace the lingerie that remained secured on your body; the anger you had vanished quickly the moment he brushed his thumb over your clothed nipple. Yes, there were apparent problems with knowing everything about your partner’s body, as in times like this, your anger flew out the window as his thumb and forefinger pinched your nipple.

You reacted with a shrill mewl as your hips automatically ground against his, and your head slammed against his shoulder. You felt his cold fingers press the bra down, and your mind nearly went blank as his calloused fingers made contact with your sensitive nipples.

“S-Shouto,” you stammer as you feel your neck blushing as his teeth nip at your earlobe, tingling pleasure scorching your body as he does it a few more times. Low and sultry moans escape your mouth as the heightening bliss of this interaction was getting to you.

“Fuck,” Shouto chuckled as he began moving towards the bed, and you tremble as the friction between your crotches increase. The pressure of his clothed cock sends your mind spinning against your barely covered core. “You’re so gorgeous, love.”

Panting in agreement, your hips bucked weakly against his as the pleasure of him biting your earlobe, his fingers pinching, pulling, and rolling your nipple, and the way his hips met your grinding hips.

Low and pounding heat grew in your stomach, and you whimpered as his hand groped your breast.

But then it was gone, and your body was tossed against a soft bed.

The coolness and freshness of the sheets once more sent a memory of whose bed this was. And the consequences for your actions.

“Shouto!” You squeaked as Shouto climbed onto the bed, his hands holding the lube as his eyes glanced at you.

Lust, amazement, love, and confusion.

“What is it?”

“This is Endeavors bed,” you find yourself repeating, although you were past the point of caring. It just came back up like word vomit.

“Fuck what he says,” Shouto snaps as he drops the lube. His eyebrows were scrunched together in his annoyance and anger, and you could see the muscles flaring in his jaw. There’s a cold laugh that leaves Shouto’s mouth as he grabs the spreader, and you feel your heart stop. “I don’t like it when you’re saying other trash names when I’m about to fuck you, princess.”

Your eyes widen as Shouto is by your feet with the spreader, his head down, and his hair falling to cover his dark eyes.

“I think you need to prove to me that you deserve to let me fuck you.”

Before you could ask, before you could question his actions, Shouto tore your panties from your hips and held them in his fingers. His eyes widening as he sees the soaked thin fabric between his fingers.

You sat up straight, trying to grab for your panties, embarrassed by how wet you had been even though practically nothing had happened. But Shouto was faster and far stronger. With a heavy hand, he shoved your shoulder back, and you fell back onto the mattress, and as you collected yourself, something tight wrapped around your ankles.

“SHOUTO!”

On your ankles sat the spreader bar, the black steel shining dangerously at you as you stared up at your boyfriend, who placed your panties into his slack pockets.

“You’ll get those back if you behave,” Shouto hums as he sat down. “Now, if you want my cock, you better make yourself cum.”

“I’m not masturbating,” you snap embarrassed as you felt exposed. Your legs were wide open, your slick essence already coating your inner thighs and the smell of your sex filling your nose as you tried in repetitive failure to close your legs.

“Fine,” Shouto says coolly as he stands up from the bed. “Have fun letting Endeavor see you like this. Cunt wet and exposed like a filthy fucking whore.”

You’re stunned into silence as you watch as he walks towards the door, his eyes unamused yet challenging as he places a hand on the knob.

“But you would like that, huh? You’d let other men fuck what’s mine? Is this what you wanted all along?”

Shouto lets out a dry laugh as he dares you to not do anything, but the pure stupidity behind his words makes you angry. It boils in your stomach as you lay down, your eye contact not breaking as you pull down the other bra cup. Then your fingers trail from your collarbone down to your breasts, teasing your pert nipples.

Electrifying pleasure rolls through you as you play with your breasts. Each tug, pull and turn making your knees slam together in an attempt to get friction to your cunt.

“Come on,” Shouto smirks as he rests at the foot of the bed. His arms are crossed against his chest, and he’s drinking you in. “Put your fingers where you want me.”

“I’m not putting my fingers up my ass,” you grin, your bottom lip captured between your teeth as another building pleasure slams through your body.

Shouto doesn’t say anything, his eyes only getting darker as you bring your fleshy mounds to your mouth and take a playful bite.

Eyes were powerful, and Shouto had some of the most intense eyes you’d ever known. So the way he gorged your figure as your hand flattened against your skin while trailing down your navel to where you were desperate for attention set your skin on fire.

Your legs trembled as the nail of your middle finger teased the middle of your lower lips, and you felt like you were choking at the way he zeroed in on your teasing fingers.

“Give me a show.”

Groaning at the way his words clung to you, your fingers pressed against your throbbing clit as your eye contact was broken by your head tossing back. You were so turned on that this gentle pressure felt overwhelming as you cried his name.

Your other hand dropping your breast and pressed against your inner thigh, your other fingers moving from your clit to your cunt.

In went one finger, the initial tightness making you sigh as you pumped your finger with no intent in mind. Then went in another finger and another. Your inner walls clenching around your intruding fingers, making you gasp at the velvety warmth of it all. Eyes fluttering open, you move your wrist, and your fingers move fluidly within you.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” Shouto groans as he watches your movements like a hawk, his eyes burning themselves into your exposed cunt.

But it made you feel so good.

With a single heave, your pumping fingers increased in their speed and intensity. Growing so much, your walls squeezed against your moving fingers. Your fingers pounded into your wet core, the sounds of the entering and exiting appendages, making you whine as your free hand pressed against your clit. Your hips bucked up against your moving fingers in an attempt to further increase this intense desire.

Your fingers continued to dance against your needy clit as you shook.

Hot fire slammed to your toes as they curled in your overwhelming pleasure. Your eyes clenching closed as you rubbed hard and fast circles into your desperate clit. Your back arching off the bed multiple times, almost ending with you falling onto your side due to the imbalance caused by the restraint bar.

Faster and hard, faster, and harder.

The squelching of your soaked pussy and pistoning fingers were heavy in your ear as you shrieked. Your legs were spasming, kicking, and your hips thrusting as your end was nearing fast. Shouto’s name continued to be cried from your mouth as you curled your fingers in you, and your fingers pinched your clit, and then an idea slams through you.

Use Endeavor’s name.

And as your orgasm crashed through you, a pitched scream sounded in the room as it all clashed within you.

His name was used.

Your body trembling as you lay on the bed, your fingers still knuckle deep within you as you pant. Your slick essence coats your hands as you manage to sit up, out of breath, and staring at Shouto in a challenging way as you removed your fingers from within you.

There’s a scoff, a sound almost similar to a snarl, and you watch as Shouto shakes his head.

“Aren’t you being a fucking slut.”

Blinking slowly, you heard his pants hit the ground when the belt clacked against the wooden floors. Then you saw that he was by your legs, his cock erect and pressing onto his stomach, the head already beading. Pre-cum dripped from his tip, and you feel victorious at the way he was so turned on.

But it seemed that the dress wasn’t the only thing being destroyed today.

His left hand held onto the fabric of your bra, and you watched in heated horror as he reduced the lingerie to ash.

“Shouto?! What the fu— mmph?!”

Shouto shoved your cum slick fingers in your mouth, and you mewled at the taste of your sweet essence on your fingers.

“Suck it all off,” he practically hissed as he moved your wrists, emulating a blowjob as you groaned against your fingers. “You don’t deserve to be fucked like a princess, do you?”

Your protests against your fingers were ignored as he pressed you against the bed, and you choked as your fingernail stabbed the back of your throat. But it didn’t matter to Shouto, no, not at all.

“If you want to be saying Endeavor’s — fucking scum’s name in bed, I’ll treat you no better than a fucking whore.”

There was a moment of silence as he watched you gag against your own fingers, his weight keeping you locked onto the mattress. But then it was over, and his hand grabbed the bar between your ankles, and he yanked it up.

Your teeth lock around your fingers in your surprise, but he lets go of your wrist, your eyes lock on his as your knees rest beside your chest, and you blink in confusion as he glares down at you.

“Hold it,” he commands as your hands move to hold the bar. It’s cold against your fingers, and the areas that are coated with your saliva make the bar slippery and wet.

“W-Why?” You hoarsely ask, your throat thick from the continuous stabbing of your finger. Typically when the bar was used, Shouto always held it.

“I told you you were going to be fucked like a whore, right? That makes you easy. I don’t need to work hard for someone who does this daily. But that means you should be good at this, so see that clock? In ten minutes, if you cum more than three times, you’ll get punished.”

Your mouth opens to respond to him, but Shouto presses his hands against the bottom of your thighs and, with accurate precision, thrusts wholly into you.

Your grip on the bar almost weakens entirely as his cock fills you completely, your words of protest become gasping pleas as the tip of his cock presses against your cervix, and you feel dizzy, your fluttering walls adjusting. His cock was thick, and it was lengthy; your inner walls ached against him as you adjusted, but regardless of how tight it felt, you could sense your essence spilling from you as Shouto sighed.

He shifted, and in a matter of seconds, you watched as his hips snapped backward before thrusting back into you.

The stretch of your legs makes you feel as if you weren’t breathing correctly. Each breath was short and raspy as you clung to the metal bar as Shouto repetitively slams his cock into your cunt.

“Shit, such a pretty cunt you have,” he rasps as your walls spam against him with his wild thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, pushing you into the mattress, increasing the angle of which he drills down into you.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up in meet him, to increase this brutal force he was using as you crave even more. It was too much.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that you cried in embarrassment, but Shouto found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are music to your ears as his cock hits your walls every time. The stretch he gives you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gorge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal.

Your hands are weak against the bar, and it feels as if it’s slipping the moment he releases his right hand from your leg. You cry as the angle of penetration lessens, but his ramming continues at the same pace, and his fingers land on a puffy and sensitive bundle of nerves. The simple action set you enflame as you wailed his name, and Shouto bit your inner calf as his finger cooled dramatically against your clit.

The difference between your body that felt like it was on fire and the bitter ice of his fingers made your body spasm uncontrollably. The bar was being pulled in by your forearms as exploding pleasure slams through every vein in your body. But your thrashing and wailing do not stop Shouto, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the bed begins to sway with every powerful thrust.

“I needa— holy shit, r-right there!”

“What? Do you need to come already?” Shouto mocks against your calve, and you whimper as he bites it again.

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him in an attempt to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is curse loudly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. The feeling of Shouto’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure. His finger getting colder by the second as it simmers against your burning clit. Your heart hammering in your ears as you heard Shouto snap at you.

“Cum.”

The orgasm that had been surging within you crashed through you in a fiery white heat as your jaw slacks in a silent scream. Your body convulses against your hold and his, but Shouto doesn’t stop, not even when your toes curl, not even when you sob.

“Shouto!”

He pulled out then, his pants heavy in your ear, and something ripped through you as the weirdest sensation floods through you. Your cunt throbs uncharacteristically harder as you softly sob Shouto’s name.

You had squirted.

It was all over the comforter; there was even some on Shouto’s lower abs that shone in a mixture of sweat and you.

Your head slams back into the mattress as you can feel your heartbeat in your cunt, your chest heaving at the experience you just had. You’ve never squirted before, and your body felt like it was short-circuiting as you remained on your back.

“Look at that,” Shouto mused as he unfastened the restraints on your ankles, and your thighs crashed together, an inevitable soreness throbbing within as you lay speechless. That had winded you. “For someone not wanting to make a scene on his bed, you just wet a whole portion to it. I don’t think you even care if he finds out I fucked you on his bed, y/n. A little whore like you, you probably want the entire neighborhood to know.”

“I don’t,” you gasp as you struggle to find your breath still, and Shouto hums as he turns you over onto your stomach.

You’re not sure if it was a forcible push or something gentle. All you know is that your body burned where he touched you, and your thighs ached as you settled on your stomach.

“How the fuck am I supposed to fuck you like that?” Shouto snaps at you, and your eyes widen as you shift your head to look at Shouto’s whose cock is still erect, and you realize in a dawning horror that you had come twice now, and he had not.

Then there was the challenge, he only had to make you come three more times to do whatever insidious things he had planned. Your fingers fisted in the sheets as you groaned loudly. His body heat radiated onto you, and you rub your thighs together at the thought of Shouto gripping your ass as he drilled into you from behind.

You needed to get him to do that, but to make sure you didn’t come.

“I don’t want to,” you stall, hoping that in moments like these, it would help in your favor.

“Let go of the sheets,” Shouto ignores you as he gives a pointed look at your hands that clutched the sheets.

“Nope.”

The heat he provided was suddenly gone, and your eyes widened as a closet door creaks open. You watch as Shouto stands by a closet, a hand on his hip as he studies the closet before him, and you let out a strangled noise as you can already taste what he’s getting out.

“Shouto, do not!”

“Don’t what?” Shouto asks as he pulls out four brightly colored ties that Endeavor owned. “They’ll get cleaned up and put away, I mean look at the mess you already made, this shouldn’t concern you.”

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you look at the stained sheets below you, and you sit on your knees as you cross your arms.

“Using Endeavors clothes as bondage is going too far!”

Shouto looked at you, his eyes annoyed, angry, and uncaring, then he shrugs. He takes a few strides, and he’s back on the bed.

“He should have thought of that before being a dick.”

There was no time to react as Shouto grabbed your wrists in his hand and tugged you towards him. Before you could attempt to pull back, to resist ruining more of Endeavors’ personal belongings, the tie is properly looped around your arms, and you’re locked in place.

“Now on your hands and knees like a good slut,” Shouto directs running a hand through his sweaty locks while rising to his knees. The tie is almost uncomfortable with how tight it is, and you remain stagnant, staring at your boyfriend, who was insistently becoming more of a dom than you had ever seen him as. But with your lack of action, his expression sours, and he grasps your cheeks in his hand. “Are you fucking deaf?

You gasp loudly when Shouto’s hand brings your face to the mattress, your back curved, arms pressed into your breasts.

“I thought whores had better form than this,” Shouto sneers while pressing a heavy hand against the center of your spine. You adjusted immediately under his force, your back arching with your pert ass in the air. “Much better.”

The mattress pressed against your chest in a suffocating way, your heart hammering as you realized what was to come.

“Shouto, please,” your voice pleads again; his hands roam your ass and hips, whispering nasty sweet things to you while the tip of his cock presses against your still wet cunt. “Don’t make a mess of me, not on Endeavors bed.”

There was a moment of silence while his hands disappeared from your skin. Licking your lips, you turned your head to see what exactly his expression was. But you were too late.

He slammed his right hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. The pain made your legs buckle, a hot pressure reigniting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on your opposite cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you yelped loudly when Shouto yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your troubled skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Who the fuck matters to you right now?” He hisses in your ear. “Is it Endeavor fucking you on this bed right now? No—” his hand comes down against your ass with every word, ignoring your growing sobs— “I’m the one fucking you. The only man’s name you should be uttering is mine. Do. You. Understand?”

The next spank that comes across your ass nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Shouto abused your ass.

“Answer me, whore.”

There was no stopping Shouto’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It delighted you.

“Y-Yes, sir!” You pant, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more.

“You like this, don’t you,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you here. Do you want me to leave you here? With no clothes, no way back home? Count the number of times I spank you, I want to hear you counting and thanking me every time.”

Slap.

“One. T-Thank you, sir.”

Your words were barely above a whisper, just enough for Shouto to hear you thank him as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a sneer as he let go of your hair, throwing your head into the mattress, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that, don’t make me ask again. From the top.”

The words were like honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“One! Thank you, s-sir!”

Your mind reeled as Shouto continued his conquest against your ass. You could barely remember the number you were on by the time he was done with you, the added sensation of his alternating heated and chilled hands increasing the desire in you to find you as you were now. Ass bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto your bond arms.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he observes as two of his fingers slide against your wet slit, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued petting you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips began to buck against his wandering hands, trying to get them to slip between the folds. “Such a greedy little slut.”

His chuckle is barely heard by you, for as he said that, he pressed the head of his cock into your cunt. A sharp whine slams from your throat as the emptiness of this action makes you crave more. You shift your ass back, the action full of temporary regret as soring pain flashes through your lower body. He did not hold back.

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Shouto chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Shouto slams into you at full force again, causing you to bite down hard against your saliva-coated and bound arms as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you focus on the nightstand and see the clock. It’s felt like an eternity, but only three minutes had passed since the bet was made. If you won, you’d move this fuck feast into his bedroom.

“Seven minutes,” you choke against your skin, not wanting to show how turned on you were.

The instant you were done chiding him, you regretted telling Shouto the amount of time he had left. The bed shifted by your knees, and you could only imagine what was happening as you could feel his cock moving out of you and slamming back into you.

The angle and power behind these thrusts were different than what you were used to from the standard doggy style. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, shrill moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you preened your head to look at Shouto.

Sure enough, Shouto was positioned on his feet, his knees bent as he dropped into your awaiting cunt with such savagery your eyes rolled back watching him. Sweat dripped down his neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“That feels so — fuck — do that!”

“Who—” slap— “Are—” slap— “You—” slap— “Addressing?!” Slap!

“Y-You, sir!” You scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second.

Shouto chuckles at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in a zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure had built up all over again.

His cock twitched within you, it knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length. Shouto curses loudly, pulling out of you while your cum drips from your folds. But a hot and sticky substance hits the curve of your ass while Shouto lets out a string of curses, and you moan knowing that he came on you.

“That was two,” Shouto reminds you as you groan into the sheets.

“That was two,” you mock hoarsely, but you’re unable to move, your body locked in the way he had fucked you.

“Look,” Shouto says, ignoring your disrespect, for you can hear the prideful smirk on his tone as he forces you onto your side. “You made another mess.”

“You’re cleaning up Endeavors bed when we’re done,” you whimper, making no attempt to sit up, your body screaming in pain when you lay still.

“You really can’t seem to get his name out of your fucking mouth, can you?” Shouto barks while he moves to sit against the headboard. “What do I have to do to get you to fucking forget him? Choke you until you pass out? Break that pretty little mind and pussy of yours?”

There is no time to argue, Shouto grabs your legs and drags you over to him, your sensitive ass burning against the cum soaked comforter until you were at his side. Your pained breaths still as Shouto glares down at you, his left hand undoing the saliva-coated tie around your wrists, leaving the fabric slightly burnt while he tosses it to the side. Your arms throb as blood rushes back through it.

But before you could relish the feeling of your arms back, Shouto has his chest pressed against your back, and his right hand angling his once again hardening cock upwards.

“Since I mean nothing to you, make yourself cum.”

With that, he dropped your aching pussy onto his dick.

The feeling of his cock wholly sheathed within you, mercilessly slamming against the wall of your cervix and staying pressed tightly there. The delirious sensation made your head crash back against his shoulder, and your legs kicked out in response. Loud and low moans reverberated from your lips while adjusting to him buried within you again.

Your mind reeled while you adjusted, and Shouto angled his knees up, his scorching and robust grip moving your legs outside of his, causing your hips to spread against him.

“I told you to move,” he snaps, his fingers twisting your sensitive nipple harshly, your resulting wail muffled by you burying your face into his neck. “I didn’t pay for you to sit there.”

Puffs of air escaped your mouth quickly, and your feet shakily pressed into the mattress. You needed to move for him. But you were too slow, and a sharp and icy cold slap hit your clit.

Your body impulsively arched forward, your body rising up from his cock before you collapsed back down. But the sensation of his cock hitting your cervix made you shudder.

“Faster.”

So you began to rise and fall against his length, his hot breathing fanning against your sweat-soaked skin made your body shudder against his. His fingers found a place on your hips to hold, and you moaned at his bruising grip.

Your thighs burned with every bounce of your body, your head lolling to the side, stammering Shouto’s name as your walls clenched and squeezed against his hard cock. You wanted more of him. You needed more of him. Choked out screams rung from your throat as your hand gripped onto his knees, your body trying to support the numb ache that was shooting through your body.

“Shouto,” you puff, his fingers digging into your flesh, making you gasp.

“Why don’t you follow fucking instructions,” Shouto gnashes his teeth, and his left-hand moves from your hip to your clit. A jolt of massive arousal shoots through your body, a warm presence pressing into you as he teases your clit, causing you to roll your hips against his. But it grows hot, hotter, and hotter. It’s too hot, and his movements are painful yet disgustingly pleasurable. Pained and animalistic sobs pouring from your mouth while he deliberately abuses your throat. “What are you supposed to call me?!”

“S-Sir!” You weep, slamming your hips back down against his in pathetic attempt to lose his hold against your puffy nerve. “I’m supposed to c-call you, sir!!”

“Then why haven’t you been?!” Before you could attempt to respond, Shouto’s right-hand leaves your hip and slams to your throat, choking the response from you. “I don’t want to hear your answer.”

His hand remains heavy and tight around your throat, his hold barely allowing oxygen to travel through to your lungs. Your vision fuzzed, and you could feel your heartbeat in your head, but your core shook with Shouto’s now reciprocating and rhythmic slams.

Choking, clit stimulation, his cock pounding into your cervix, his fingers hotter than coal, and Shouto chuckled into your skin. His thrusting hips were becoming more precise, angling into you in a way that made you audibly choke when you needed to gasp. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen to your body that was making you delirious, or perhaps it was the fact that he was slamming into you with the strength of rearranging your guts, but your hips began to swivel at an inhumane pace. Your cunt held a vice grip around his cock, yet it did nothing to slow Shouto down, but the growing heated pit in your lower belly was making your legs tremble against his. Still, you tried to keep up with his rough and cruel pace, and Shouto enjoyed knowing that detail.

“Such a fucking tramp, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He sneers, his teeth biting down against the curve of your shoulder. “You enjoy being choked?”

Your head nods, “Y-Yes, sir!”

“Do you need to cum?” There was no reason for Shouto to ask that; the answer was obvious enough. “Good.”

If you thought Shouto was rough, as soon as that word rolled off his tongue, he only got worse.

His hand against your throat tightened, and black dots littered your vision; the coldness of his ice burned against your skin. His teeth sunk far into your skin, enough for you to feel your skin breaking as his tongue moving in cold and heated strokes to calm your now irritated skin. Then there were his nimble fingers running against your clit, and entering your cunt between your spastic walls and his hammering and throbbing cock. But your bouncing held no value anymore, Shouto’s hips snapped upwards fast enough and powerful enough to overcome and overwhelm you. The only thing you could tell was that along with the tip of his cock hitting your bruised walls, the sounds of your sopping wet pussy crashing against his forceful hips rang in your ears in a primal yet excited fashion.

Despite his hold on your neck, nothing was holding back the scream that left your mouth as you orgasmed.

White stars filled your vision as Shouto ripped his cock from you, and that same sensation of peeing bewildered you as he held your body up. You had squirted again, but your ragged and shallow breathing had only increased, and there was something warm and wet painted on your back.

“That was three,” Shouto whispers into your ear, his teeth tugging at your earlobe, and you shuddered. “I should get extra points for making you squirt.”

To that, all you could muster was an embarrassing moan as your dazed eyes focused on yet another wet stain on the bed. Three minutes left, that’s how much you had to endure to win.

Three more minutes.

Unfortunately for you, Shouto was well aware of this, so he wasted no time.

Once again, he shoved you to the side. Your body crumpling onto the mattress, aching and sharp pains flooding your body as you lay there. Your clit throbbed in time with your heartbeat, and your inner thighs were coated entirely with your cum — both new and old. Maybe your body would be incapable of cumming at this point now? You sure hoped so… or not.

“Up,” Shouto commanded but gave you no autonomy since he grabbed your hair by the roots and tugged you onto your knees. You whimper in your throat at the stabbing pain settling in your lower body, you were still recovering from him rearranging your guts. But you caught sight of the cum he had released onto your back pressed all over the covers, and your breathing stopped.

“Shou— ack!!”

A collar locked around your throat, and you wheezed loudly; you hadn’t managed to catch your breath still. Your body swayed forward into his hold as your head spun due to the lack of oxygen, but Shouto seized you his eyes wide and worried as he stared at you.

“Shit, baby, are you okay?”

You nodded your head, oxygen slowly spreading back into your body.

“Sorry,” you hoarse, pushing away, your face burning with embarrassment. “You just surprised me.”

Shouto seemed unconvinced as his hands held onto your cheeks, his fingers stroking your sweat plastered hair out of the way, tracing your bruised lips and against the marks and bites on your exposed skin. The delicate touches are long forgotten on your skin, your lips sighing while he sends warm pulses from his fingers to the aches of your joints.

“You sure?”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved Shouto away, “I’m fine! You just made me spread your cum on Endeavor’s bed!”

Just like that, your loving boyfriend died, and the man who had been fucking you this entire day was back. His hands locked back to where the collar was, and your eyes nearly boggled out of your sockets when he tightened it more until it burned to breathe. But you remained calmed as a black leash appeared from seemingly nowhere and attached to the collar.

“Since you liked being choked so much, I might as well give you what you want without straining me.”

Your eyes widened, your ability to talk back removed.

“Now, ride my cock again,” he grins with the slightest hint sadistic, and as you move to do as instructed, he yanks at the leash. Falling onto your hands, your eyes widen while you stare at Shouto, who merely raises a cocky brow at you. “You have two minutes to make yourself cum.”

“I’m not going to,” you strain, the choking of the collar and the simple manipulation of your body already making that all too familiar heat spread upon your loins.

“You don’t have a choice,” Shouto mocks, his hand moving to grasp the leash centimeters from the collar and yanks your face close to his. But the movement is sharp and rough, the collar strangling you. You scramble on your hands and knees to get closer, stopping when his lips ghost over yours. “And you won’t have one until you’re begging me to fuck you into a puddle, not until you’re nothing more than my cum slut, and until you no longer care about dirtying Endeavors bed.”

The words are fire on your skin, and bubbling lust grows in you again.

There’s nothing to say except give a doe-eyed nod, but Shouto appreciates this submission as his lips take yours. They’re hungry, possessive, and ardent, moving against your mouth with fervent intention. Your mind slips when you straddle him, your soaked core brushing against his tip, and Shouto guides you back down onto his cock.

Your abused pussy had been through a lot, and a loud hiss passes through your teeth as you sunk all the way on him. Your teeth biting onto Shouto’s lip to control the pain-filled pleasure that corroded your body at the moment. It still felt so crazed, the sensation of your heartbeat in your inner walls shifting and hugging Shouto’s still throbbing head,

But the slowness is gone when Shouto pulls away. His hands on the leash as he yanks the cord up and back down.

“Follow my actions, “ Shouto warns, and you weakly nod.

His hand moves the leash back and forward, and the soreness of your cunt bleeds into your actions as you imitate him. Your rolling hips are slow, your hands pressing against his shoulders as you roll your hips against him. There’s a dark mutter from Shouto’s mouth when you lock eyes with him, and his nostrils flare. His hand suddenly grabs onto your waist, making you freeze in your decent back down onto his cock, but he beats you too it, for his cock rams into your dripping cunt. A shriek ripping from your throat as he pounds into you. Your fingers digging into his shoulders to hold onto for support.

“SHOUTO!” You shriek as he ruthlessly slams into you. His hips coming up so fast your body bounces with every thrust. Your moans tumble out in chokes, your face turning red as oxygen fails to fill your lungs. The thrusting is intense, and your hands on his shoulder are more of a lifeline; the bed is quick to move with your movements, the considerable bed groaning under the harsh actions. Its squeaks and tremors are loud in your ear alongside his insistent pounding.

“What’s that, whore?” He growls, his hips hammering into you at mind fogging speed. The leash on the collar being yanked to pull you closer; your bare and sweat-slick skin pressed against his. “What’s my fucking name?!”

“Sir!” you shriek as your pussy throbs around his pounding cock. You’re unable to even twirl your hips in rhythm with him. You were stuck to the lap, only able to feel his cock entering you at toe-curling speeds. “Oh my god, FUCK, please— I —shit!”

Words failed you miserably as Shouto’s hot and sweet tongue drags against your collarbone, his teeth burying into your primed skin as your eyes roll back.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. One more minute.

“You take my cock so well,” Shouto grunts as he releases one hand from your waist and runs it down your navel to press against your clit. Your head throws back, your back arching further into his chest as you scream again. Your pussy clenching with no remorse around his cock. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Do you want to come now, slut?”

You can only shake your head, you didn’t want to cum; the pressure continues to build and build.

“I need to hear your words.”

“I don’t need to cum,” you sob out as your body trembles under his thrusting, you’re so close you see stars. “I don’t need to — sir, please, I can — oH SHIT!!!”

Shouto growls as his hand wraps around the leash, wrapping it around your bruised neck as he tightens the chokehold on you. You’re being strangled, and the air feels like its burning as it goes down your tightened passage, but your cunt throbs in excitement when he presses his mouth to your ear, “I don’t give a shit if you don’t need to cum, you’ll do it regardless.” Your mouth dropped open, your eyes crossing, and a loud whine emitted from you when his hand moved to pinch your nipple, and his mouth found a place on your sensitive nipple.

That’s all it takes, and you come hard around his dick, his name ripping through your abused body as he groans. His tongue lashes against your nipple, his teeth tugging at the pebbled skin all while he continues pummeling into you. Chasing after his own orgasm now.

You pant harshly, moving your hips against his own. Your pussy still twitching around his throbbing dick. You hear him expel a wavering sigh, and you can feel him come within you. The heated fluid fills you up, and he lets go of your sore breast; he collapses onto the bed with you landing on his chest.

“You lost,” he whispers after a moment of silence. Your breath picked up in a panic, you were fucked. “On your knees.”

You groan loudly when Shouto sits up, lifting you up with him, and you can feel the intermingled cum dripping out of you, falling onto your thighs. Your eyes flutter when Shouto kneels before you, his face victorious and poised as he undoes the collar against your throat. Although you took a full breath of air with every, inhale, your breathing is finicky as you’re terrified of what’s to come. You’re silent while watching Shouto make his way make to the no longer neat line of sex toys.

He grabs two things: the vibrator, spreader bar, and four of Endeavors’ ties.

Shouto rises to his feet as he walks back towards you, and while you hated doing this on Endeavors — now filthy — bed, your mouth opened.

“Close your mouth, whore,” Shouto chides, his arms above his head tying the colored fabric to the fan blades above the bed.

“What are you—?!”

“You care too much about making a mess for some selfish pig,” Shouto shrugs, he falls into a squat after securing the ties to the fan. There’s a dark and almost amused glint in his eyes when he stares at you. “Now, I’ll give you a reason to worry.”

Before you could protest, pull away, or scramble from the center of the bed, Shouto grabs your right hand and secures the tie around it.

“Shouto!” You panic when he succeeds in capturing both your wrists. Breathing sharply, you looked up at the flimsy blades that curved under the weight of your arms. If you moved to harshly, if you struggled against this punishment or collapsed too early, it would break. Oh, no… snapping your head behind you to where your boyfriend was relocking your ankles into the spreader bar. “Please, baby, I can’t do this!”

Shouto ignores you, and cold sweat runs through you at what’s to come, you wouldn’t be able to resist bringing your elbows down if the vibrator was pressed into your clit. How were you supposed to not wholly destroy Endeavors’ property?!

“S-Sir, think this through!” You begin to word vomit in your desperation while Shouto presses the vibrator against your right thigh, the smooth head holds against your clit, and he uses two more ties to secure it into place. “The bed is already a-a mess, I squirted! Twice! You came two times on the bed! Not to mention my saliva and the cum that’s dripping out of me! I can’t — we can’t break his fan!”

Shouto is unconcerned, his tongue tracing his teeth while mocking concern, “Then I guess you’ll have to work extra hard not to ruin more things in his room. Considering you care about that shit still.”

Your mouth opened to argue again, your body feeling like you needed to fight this because there was no way you were going to be able to last with your arms above your head, legs unable to come together, and a vibrator pulsating into your cunt. But as soon as you made your initial noise, Shouto turned on the vibrator to low.

The low buzz of the vibrator filled the room, and your mouth dropped in a silent scream. Your body was half numb already, having cum multiple times within the past hour was causing your body to convulse on occasion, but now with the vibrations being sent straight to your core, you felt on edge once again.

Trying to control your visible reaction, your hands gripped onto the cloth ties, your arms quivering as you try to keep from pulling down, and your hips thrusting subconsciously to the vibrations.

“S-Sir!” You sob as the slow and steady build in your belly was already growing. Your eyes locked on Shouto, who was a length away, his eyes gleaming in sadistic joy as his hand ran up and down his once again hardening cock. “P-Please, tie me to the bed! Not to Endeavor’s fan.”

The glint disappeared.

“You just won’t let me enjoy my fucking victory, will you?!”

You sucked in a harsh breath when you shifted your hips, the head of the vibrator brushing deliciously against your softly throbbing clit. You thrilled at the feeling of the vibrations on your clit, and your toes curled as your head fell forward. You needed to keep vigilante, you had to continue complaining so that Shouto would cave.

But you had completely forgotten about the ball gag.

“Open up.” Your head shakes no when Shouto holds the ball gag against your lips, there’s a warning noise. A dark growl emitted from his throat, and you feel your heart rate spike when his other hand roughly pinched in your cheeks. Your mouth opens against your will, and you splutter when his fingers shove into your mouth. You try to bite down on his fingers, but Shouto’s fingers turn ice cold making your mouth widen further, so then the gag was placed behind your teeth pressing into your tongue. You feel him lean against you, his lips by your ear as he whispers, “I don’t fucking remember asking.”

His hand lowers, and he amps up the vibration of the vibrator, and your body stiffens under the powerful waves. Being gagged was the worst, first drool always seeped past your lips with this particular gag on, and the uncomfortable pressure on your tongue sent your gag reflex flaring. Staring up at the ceiling, your noises were muffled at the source, staggering pleasure shooting through your veins as the medium vibrations made your long-abused cunt weep.

Your slick coated the head of the vibrator, and soaked you inner thighs, soaking the tie where it held contact with your skin. Your body spasmed as you sobbed in pleasure, your mind reeling and short-circuiting when your head dropped.

Focusing onto Shouto, your legs nearly gave out at the sight of your sweating and smirking boyfriend, his ears tinged with blush, and his fist stroking his huge cock. You wanted to have him slamming into you with the vibrator pressed into your clit, not this.

“Aren’t you having fun,” he pronounces slowly, his eyes — still dark with excitement and lust — dropped to your soaked thighs. “You look fucking delicious right now, princess.”

You clenched your core, the feeling of the vibrator only intensified, and you gagged when you tried to cry out. The feeling of your saliva pooling from your lips mortified you, your body twitching as Shouto only laughs again.

“I think we should go higher,” Shouto groans, his eyes momentarily closing as you assume a particularly gratifying shiver crawls down his spine. The muffled sounds of your disapproval only make his smirk more sinister when he abandons his own length and moves closer to you. Your eyes are wide, body attempting to shift away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

Air passed through your nose are heavy and sharp breaths, your chest hammering, and your puffy nerves throbbing while the vibrator continued powering into you.

“You’re so messy,” he drawls on his knees before you, his fingers touching the saliva coating your chin, and you sob in anticipation of what’s to come. He trails his fingers down your throat, the slickness of your saliva cold against your raw and bruised neck. “Maybe you don’t really care about fucking up scums bed, do you?”

You make a disapproving noise, your will holding on to a thread, and you vigorously shake your head. Shouto hums, his upper lip curling before his hand flattened and smacked your breast right on your nipple.

There was a loud crack when your arms pulled down, and you shrieked, your eyes trying to choose between focusing on Shouto and the fan blade you very much could have just broken. You whimper, your body twisting in an attempt to show submission, but Shouto isn’t done.

With an icy cold hand, he hits your aching and hot breast again and again and again. Your pained and pleasured wails muffled while you choke against the ball, and saliva pours from your mouth, your body trembling with excitement.

“Shut up,” he hisses, bringing his other hand to your face and striking you.

Your head slams to the side, the throbbing of your cunt intensifies with the burning of his handprint. Why did you like being slapped?! Saliva dribbles from your lips when you straighten back up. A now unignorable ache fills your arms from being in this tiresome position for a while now.

Everything felt like it was burning, sensations, and wantonness flooding your senses galore.  

“I forget you like this,” Shouto groans as his hands grope your breast. Pulling, kneading, gripping and pinching the soft and moldable flesh in his hands, Shouto grins at your whimpers and the soft groans of the fan above the two of you. “Break the fan, I dare you.”

Your eyes slam shut at those words, and they remained closed as his hot and cold hands trail down your torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your lips twitch, the involuntary action to bite down on your lip prohibited by the gag. He must have seen considering the teasing pinch to your ass.

It was then that you froze. He was flushed against you, and the feeling of his cock pressing into the bottom of your sternum. Shouto’s right hand snaked behind you, those fingers playing with your dripping sex, and his left hand skimmed down your right inner thigh, resting onto the switch that changed the vibrational power.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he speaks in a low tone, an arrogant tone to his voice, “I’ll make you cum again.”

There was no time to contemplate his actions, for the vibrator was turned onto the highest setting and pressed into your clit, and his fingers sunk into your sopping wet cunt.

Even with the ball gag, the shriek of being overstimulated was as loud. It was as if you didn’t have the gag on at all. Your arms lurched forward against your will, the fan creaking loudly as you fell onto Shouto. You trembled more than a leaf in a storm, his fingers pumping deliciously and savagely into you, leaving behind the squelching noise of your wet core. The buzzing of the vibrator clear and steady and his cock twitched between the two of your bodies.

Sobbing and drooling moans escaped the gag, and Shouto relished in his ability to manipulate your body like this. His teeth leaving nipping kisses against the broken skin he left minutes before.

But the feeling of his teeth against your aggravated skin, the sensation of the powerful vibrations against your clit, and how he was still so responsive to you was nothing against his pistoning fingers dragged against that particular spot in your walls. His fingers scraped and slammed against your g-spot, and you felt your vision give way as a powerful force crashed through you.

You had squirted again, only that it seemed to last forever this time. Your lower body throbbing in its wake.

Your head collapsed against his shoulder, and when your vision came back, it was hazy and swam in your eyes. Whether Shouto had noticed or not, he still was slamming his fingers within your cunt with such intensity that — alongside the still buzzing vibrator — pressure built again within you. Heat seeped through you, and tears fell from your eyes when you came again.

Everything felt lethargic when Shouto removed his knuckle deep fingers from your sopping cunt, his tongue lapping away any of your essence remaining on his fingers. With a long pause, he finally turned off the vibrator.

Your breathing was shallow, your head spinning while he removed the bondage from your wrists and ankles. Collapsing onto your face, you felt your slick running thick on your thighs, mixing with the sweat that soaked your skin too.

Good god, were you exhausted.

“You broke the fan,” Shouto murmured.

Shrieking against the gag, adrenaline shot through your veins as you looked up. The fan blade had visible cracks in it, and your jaw dropped further.

Oh, fuck!

“Still haven’t learned,” he sighs, shaking his head. “That’s okay, you’ve always been a stubborn bitch.”

You whimper in agreement, your leg shifting so that you could feel the wet puddle you had made this time around. However, there was no time to relax.

Shouto grabbed you by your armpits and dragged you to the edge of the bed. Choking, you stared at him startled. There was no use in asking what was happening; Shouto bent your knees and wrapped two ties around each leg. One holding your ankle and upper thigh together, and the other one near your knee.

“Good,” Shouto approved, walking back to the side of the bed where the toys lay. Though soreness struck your body, you rose to your elbows and watched Shouto grab the fuck machine before returning to the bedside. “Because you squirted.” He says with a coy smile, lining the dildo to your exposed pussy and thrusting it in.

Your body slammed back down against the bed at the slickness of the dildo. You were so used to Shouto’s cock that the dildo was foreign as it buried within you.

“Now,” he sighs as he turns on the machine. Immediately the fuck machine blows into your tight and slippery cunt, your eyes rolling backward at the mere sensation of the speed it was at, and a loud mewl leaves your throat. His fingers snuck behind your head, unfastening the gag, and is removed with a saliva string, and a sob croaked through your voice as your mouth was finally free. “Suck my dick.”

With your head past the edge of the mattress, and the height lining you near perfectly to Shouto’s cock, he slides his cock into your sore throat. But ever so eager, Shouto wastes no time starting his conquest.

You try to keep up with the momentum of the toy and his viciously thrusting hips, your hips snapping against the toy despite its insane speed. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you choke against his cock. Shouto chuckles, his hands kneading your breasts, his moans tight and low, it had been a while since the last time he came.

“Look at you, so desperate,” Shouto chuckles, his fingers tweaking your hard nipples. “So fucking needy.”

The words ignite a fire within you, and your legs tremble in unspoken glee. You wanted him to fuck you until you were nothing less than a mess. You needed him to give you his cock instead of this stupid fucking machine — wait…

Your eyes widened when you realized the extent to your thoughts.

Fuck Endeavor, you thought, a shiver rolling down your spine. Your boyfriend was giving you the best dick down of your life, and you were too preoccupied with foolish worry! Shouto promised he was going to be cleaned up. You wanted Shouto, you needed him. Maybe you were whipped.

Your arms shot out, gripping the back of Shouto’s thighs as you willed him closer. Your jaw widening; you let hot breaths of air expelled from your mouth. You could feel Shouto peering down on you, but rolling your hips against the machine that was making your stomach bulge with every slam of its rod, your tongue lashed against his swollen head. Shouto’s thighs clench when your mouth sucks against the head of his cock, your tongue pressing flat against the tip.

“Did someone finally fucking wake up?” Shouto grunts, his hips moving with more unrestraint into your mouth.

Making a pleasant sound, you hollowed your cheeks out and tasted the saltiness of his pre-cum. Delighting at the harsh curse, you guided him further in.

One of his hands is soon braced on the fuck machine between your legs, but the other is tangled in your hair, pulling it and twisting it as he wishes. He’s pulling hard enough to hurt, enough so that you can choke against him, the angle and the position on your back already increasing the likeliness of that happening.

Shouto’s grip on your hair tightens, and he realizes that you’re keeping up impeccably. His dance between aggression and concupiscence is too much for you to keep up with. You don’t have time to tease his length with your tongue; he steers his cock further down your throat. You don’t bother to hide how satisfied you are by his action as you relax your throat and hollow your cheeks against the length of his snapping cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hips bucking forward, he can’t stop himself from demanding more. You don’t mind; you open wider to take more of him in, and his cock thrusts further down your throat. He’s now panting, in his desperation, judging from the strangled sound he makes as you take him even deeper. “You take my cock so good, princess.”

He was doing this for you, despite everything that could happen to him after this night was done. Shouto loved you enough to tarnish his dad’s room with you. The thought makes you moan, and you wiggling trying to take him deep enough now that he must be able to feel the vibrations from your throat because that makes him hiss out another curse. He’s shaking with the effort of slamming his cock down your throat and holding the machine.

The raw, primal, and wet noises of his cock entering and leaving your throat are maniacal, added onto that is the dildo penetrating your sopping cunt again. The pressure is back, and it’s settled deep in your lower belly, and you want to cum more.

He’s underestimating you, however; you could take him in all power and length he could muster. You know that as you begin bobbing your head despite the backwardness of your position. Digging your fingernails into his ass, you silently letting him know that you’re okay, and he understands.

Shouto grunts, bending his knees as he begins to face fuck you with no remorse. It’s savage, uncontrolled, and brutal. Your choking noises music to both your ears; he doesn’t let up, only snapping his hips faster, harder, rougher. Your eyes begin to roll backward at the force, his balls slapping you in the face with every slam of energy.

But you like — you lust — the sensation of the raw and primitive fucking he was giving you, and you felt your hips rising off the bed when your walls begin to clamp against the insanely moving dildo. Yet, when you shifted higher, his hands slammed down against your hips, keeping you down, and you cry around his cock.

“Take my fucking cock like the slut you are,” he snarls, taking giant thrusts until his cock is completely buried in your throat, your nose pressed into his balls. Your tongue still revolves around the veins in his cock while you grip his ass. You choke against him, the noise music to his ears, while your legs spasm as your orgasm is hitting you.

“Y/n,” he manages to get out through gritted teeth. “Fuck, y/n. You—” He cuts himself off with another groan as the tip of his cock hits so far down your throat you feel your neck bulge.

There’s a brief moment of panic as you struggle to breathe. The force a but more than you expected, but you relax, getting yourself to calm back down. But then you inhale through your nose and force your throat to rest until you can take him all in, the oxygen burning as it made its way past his cock in your throat. Not long after that, Shouto lets out a long, loud groan when his seed shoots down your throat.

It burns, and to your horror, you find yourself unable to take the sheer force of his load and the fact that he just seemed to keep unloading within you. Uncontrollable panicked coughing and choking rattle your throat while Shouto is still balls deep in you. The second he removes his cock from your throat, you shoot up, your core throbbing, and your airway burning as cum drips out from your nose.

You continue hacking, the bitter taste of cum scorching your throat, and you continued to rub cum from your nose. It burned and hurt to breathe. Turning your head towards Shouto, who turned off the fucking machine, his eyes were locked on you already, a grin on his face while he ran a hand through his hair.

“That was hot,” Shouto rustles, running the flat of his thumb against your upper lip, smearing his cum against your skin.

“That fucking hurt!” You snap, throwing his hand off your face, a fire exploding under your skin because you were more embarrassed than anything. You enjoyed the feeling of his cum coming out of your nose, but you weren’t about to admit it!

“I don’t care,” Shouto perversely informs you, his hands taking you cheeks and twisting you towards him before his lips press against yours.

His lips are libidinous against yours, his mouth opening as he coaxed you to join him in this affair. His kiss was bruising, his teeth knocking against yours when hot and breathless puffs of air exchanged between your mouths. The heated pressure does nothing to ease the burning in your throat, only intensifying the pain while you dig your fingers into his back, leaving crescent marks and bloodied tears behind. The pain does not deter Shouto, not even a little bit. There’s an approval growl emitting from his throat and his tongue soon pressed against yours, and you resisted the sharp moan threatening to leave while his muscle danced with yours.

“Stop holding it in,” he grunts, “make everyone know that you’re being fucked.”

The next noise to escape your mouth is a loud mewl when Shouto sucks against your own tongue, his eyes ablaze while he stares down at you, victory and lust in his eyes.

“Where should I fuck you next?” He asks, his body pressing you down into the mattress, ignoring your pained hisses for your legs were still bound. His fingers dig into your breasts, pinching at the edges of your areola instead of your nipple. Your fingers dug deeper into his skin when you sob at the teasing. “How does that filthy little cunt of yours want to be ruined next?”

“In his chair!” you cry in gluttony, your body thrashing and reaming against his touch. “Fuck me in his chair, sir!”

“Look at that, maybe the slut can learn,” Shouto grins into your skin, the tracing movements salacious, and he stands. You’re weightless when Shouto scoops you from the bed, his hands supporting your tender ass. Mindlessly, your mouth nibbles against his throat, leaving purple hickies in your wake while he collects more items.

The taste of his salty sweat invades your senses, your tongue lapping, and circling against his skin while Shouto gave no attention towards your actions. He merely dumped you onto the cool leather of Endeavors desk chair, and you arched in pain.

“Now, now,” he ruthlessly grabbed the ties on your legs. He slides them off with such amoral strength your skin throbs in his wake. Your legs, finally free, slam to the ground, and you let out a fervid noise as you stare up at your boyfriend, whose stomach is taut and sheened with sweat. “I thought you liked pain.”

“You haven’t been giving me any,” you sneer, your tongue dragging against your bottom lip.

Rage fills his eyes, and he chuckles depravedly, “Okay, brat.”

Grabbing your hips, he drags you on the chair so that your ass barely remains on the cold leather. Shoving you down by your chest, the wind is knocked out of you, and you heave when he grabs onto your ankles. With a familiar tightness and the strain of having your knees under your shoulders, the spreader bar is placed behind the chairs back, keeping you trapped to the chair.

You’re folded in half, and his hand pressed onto your stomach before he began to tie your arms and thigh down. Two ties to secure your wrist into place, two ties to secure your thighs into place. The position — being placed into an ‘L’ shape — prohibited you from breathing correctly as your inflexibility flashed through your muscles.

“Oh my god,” you breathe while Shouto presses the back of the chair into the desk for additional support. Your wrists throbbed with the loss of blood circulation, and Shouto stood before you, his hand fisting himself.

“Hard to breathe?” He mocks, his cock now fully erect again.

“Make me stop breathing, pussy,” you challenge unwavering.

“God, I was hoping you’d say that,” he smirked, grabbing the top of the chair, and placing his feet by the side of the bed, he rammed himself into your cunt.

There was nothing for you to do except pathetically howl when he slammed into your cervix, your body tied so tight to the chair any other action was stopped.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Shouto hisses, but you could hardly tell the difference with the way he pummels his cock deep within you. Perfectly hitting the back of your wall every time.

His girth was stretching you out far more than you could seem to remember, his thrusts were urgent as they were voracious, slamming deep into you with every second, scrambling your mind with every shift. But, he didn’t gag you, and you weren’t one to give in.

“It’s because you n-never fuck me r-rIGHT!”

His left fingers slammed into your mouth, his fingers touching the back of your throat as you choked against him in your surprise. Tears watered in your eyes, and his fingers dug into your spongy muscle, making you gag even more laborious.

It already hurt to breathe, with the sensation of his cum still falling from your nose, the angle of which you were tied up, and his finger in your throat, you began to panic. Your eyes close, your throat relaxing immediately to let things be okay. But as soon as you regain your breath, you feel your core throb in how much you liked that. Tears flow down your cheeks, your eyes locked on Shouto, who’s scorching you with his sight.

“I thought you were going to tap out,” he taunts, and your tongue pushes up against his fingers, your throat humming lowly to control the insistent gag at the back of your throat. “You’re crying, and yet you’re still so defiant.”

You tilt your head up, alleviating the pressure of his fingers in your throat, and still looking like a brat.

But his cock brushes against your g-spot and your eyes nearly bug out in ecstasy for his right-hand wraps around your neck. His cock still slams into you with speed and power, the oxygen in your body being denied with his tight grip around your neck, his fingers beginning to thrust within your mouth emulating a cock, and the chair starts to squeak with every movement.

Your ass pathetically rises off the chair, a desperate attempt to move in time with his drilling cock. Both of you delirious under your overstimulation and refusal to stop until there was evidence for years that the two of you fucked in Endeavors’ room. His grip around your neck soon became bruising, where his fingertips were burned you, but you cared not. His cock was stretching you out in shameless thrill, the angle only increasing the pleasure buzzing through you. Your eyes cross over in your elation, and you splutter when his fingers leave your throat, moving to press cold and wet figure-eights onto your clit.

“Fucking take my cock,” he growls.

Your head nods, the heated pressure in your belly scorching. Your walls clamp down against his hammering cock, but it doesn’t slow him down, only encouraging him to increase his speed and strength until the chair creaked against your weight. The sopping noises of your meeting sex filled your ears, and you moaned loudly, your teeth biting down onto your lip.

It takes his cock brushing against your g-spot for your legs to slam forward, your arms nearly succeeding in destroying endeavors ties as you try sitting up as your orgasm slams through you.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” You scream hoarsely. Your scream only increases in great thrill when you feel the chair snap under the force of his fuck. But Shouto ignores it, his hips continuing to drill into you, his hand clamping tighter against your neck, cutting off your voice. Shouto isn’t done yet, after all.

His hands move to grip the exposed back of your thighs, his grip bruising your supple skin. He slams into you faster, his cock continuing unaffected by your convulsing walls. There are no other noises except your wet cunt meeting his cock, your shrieks of approval, and Shouto’s heavy breathing as he continues to drive into you. His body is giving you unreplicable sensations, and your body only making Shouto stammer and curse loudly.

His lips find yours, and there is nothing to say, the kiss is messy, more teeth than anything. Saliva passed between the two of you without care, as he chases his orgasm. His brutal pace continues, your name growled from your throat, until one last thrust and one final clamp from your cunt sends him over.

He pulls out as soon as he cums, his seed slipping down from your slit, tickling your tight ass and dripping onto the chair and the floor.

Your eyes are barely opened; you try to peer at Shouto, who is pressing his right hand to his forehead.

“You cheat,” you rasp, knowing that he had successfully cooled his body down.

He smiles at you wickedly, choosing to ignore you before walking back.

“Look at that,” Shouto whispers, bending down so that his face is level with your cunt and ass. “Can’t have anything not falling onto Endeavors things getting out of you…”

His finger pushes his cum back into your sore cunt, and you sharply breath when he pats your cunt.

“You want me to have your babies,” you tease, and he remains silent, dragging his fingers down the center of your pussy. His breathing teases your sensitive flesh, and you feel yourself clench when he pulls his fingers lower than where he usually goes. Soon, his fingers trace around your puckered asshole.

“S-Sir,” you pant, your chest rising as far up as you could in this position, and your eyes widened when he looked up at you.

“Have you ever wanted to try anal?”

Your mouth drops when the pad of his finger teases your other entrance, and your thighs shook while you remained silent.

His opposite hand struck your ass sharply, your body thrashing as it stung against your unprepared skin.

“Answer me.”

“Y-Yes!”

“Yes, what?!”

“I want your cock in my ass!”

Your boyfriend’s quirk did not involve speed; in fact, without his quirk, he was not that fast. Sure he was athletic and adequately trained, but in comparison to those on the Hero field, if you took away quirk usage, he was barely above average. But there were times that you believed he was incredibly fast, and this was one of those moments.

You found your face, chest, and knees buried back into the mattress, your back arched so much you swore you would need a spine replacement after this, and the ties and spreader bar were gone.

His fingers slide between your folds, lathering in your essence. A low groan left your lips at the feeling, and you quivered when Shouto’s hands spread your ass cheeks.

“B-Be gentle,” you whimper when he presses the pad of his forefinger against your pert hole. Your ass tightened instinctively, and Shouto huffed but pressed his finger in. A weird full pain shot through you when the tip of his finger entered your rectum, your ass squeezing against his finger, trying to deny him entrance.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his other hand massaging your ass cheek, trying to calm your instincts to let him in.

Your fingers dig into the comforter, the still wet fabric from your multiple orgasms was cold under your heated fingers. But something cold splashed against your ass, and you shook, demanding to know what it was.

“Lube,” he answers, a smirk evident in his tone as his fingers leave your asshole. A soft groan exhales from your breath at him exiting your ass, and soon enough, his finger returns to your puckered tight hole. The feeling of his fingers pushing in you to his first knuckles sends your ass flying backward toward him, a desperate and idiotic way of getting him further in.

It was a weird feeling, almost reminiscent to the first time you had sex, only completely different. It made your head spin in a frenzied way and felt backward but in a way where you needed more.

“You like this,” he laughs, his lips pressing against your spine. Your head nods, you’re unable to speak as his fingers push into you and pull back out. It’s a slow and chilling movement that fills your asshole and makes you dizzy.

“Shit,” you breathe, your body rattling, your ass rolling against his fingers.

“Are you ready for my cock, whore?” He asks, and you whine in response. His hand grips your ass, and his finger curls within you. You loudly call out his name, feeling your body turning weak as you lay there, a slave to his manipulation. His manipulation of your ass sends warm liquid falling down your thighs, shining against your skin as his hand smacks your inner thigh, and he relishes in your high pitched squeal. “You finally cave to anal when I’m fucking you here. Is this what you wanted all along?”

Your eyes clamp shut as his fingers exit your ass, and you only manage a panting groan in response. There’s a soft ripping noise before a package hits your face.

Your eyes open to see a condom package sitting by your face, its empty, and you shift your head to stare at Shouto who’s unraveling the condom on his cock.

“You haven’t used those in a while,” you remark snidely, your eyes glowing with amusement as he locks onto you, his eyes rolling.

“I remember a certain someone begging for me to put it in her raw,” he smoothly states, lube in his hands now, and he applies a lot on the smooth condom. “Besides, you want my cock up your ass, you don’t get to play that card right now.”

“Yeah, well — oHMY GOD!”

Shouto, without warning, presses the head of his cock within your asshole. It stretches you out disgustingly, sharp pain throbbing in your ass and cunt as he settles within you. Despite his cock halfway buried within your ass, it’s your pussy that weeps. Your slick runs rampant down your inner thigh, falling onto the bed top. Shouto’s fingers dig into your waist, the both of you breathing heavy at this new feeling.

Slowly, his fingers move to your breast and your nipples, and with the smallest nod from you, he begins.

In and out, he moves, his hips moving faster than a manageable speed, and your eyes welled with tears at the constipated feeling in your asshole. His fingers tweak and pull at your clit and nipple, savagely teasing them, uncaring that your cries left drooling puddles on the bed. His thrusting movements became quicker, harder, and more solid until a familiar sensation of his balls slapping your skin burned your mind.

“More,” you beg against the sheets, drool coating your cheek, your body nothing more than his fuck toy. “Fuck my asshole harder.”

Shouto merely growls, the pinch on your clit, making your hips buck against his cock, and he began to barbarically slam into you. It was as if it was your pussy and not your ass he was drilling into.

Your body shifts with his every movement, your slick pouring from your cunt, and he let go of your nipple. In your crazed state, you sob at the loss of contact, but his hand strikes against your soaked cunt with a loud sound. The force alone nearly sends your eyes flying open, your vision blurring when his finger dive into your sex.

His fingers work at double the speed of which his hips slam into you. His fingers pushing the limits of your velvet walls; he curls his fingers against your walls, dragging them deliciously against your clenching heat. Then there was his cock, and at times the thin walls that separated his fingers and his cock brushed together, sending you into a new frenzy while you sobbed his name.

Begging for more, begging to come.

“You already need to come?!” He snaps, his hips not at all weak, and you moaned loudly, knowing that he was nowhere close. “Then come you, filthy bitch, I just started, and you need to come!”

“I-It feels so fucking good,” you garble, your jaw unable to move for its slack against the mattress, electrifying pleasure singing your nerves, and with a loud smack to your pussy, you come hard against his fingers, splashing against the bed top.

There’s no time wasted; Shouto pulls himself from your ass and shoves you onto your back again. There’s no fightback, no attitude, from you. Without being forced to, your legs are brought to your chest while Shouto discards the condom onto the bed.

“Aren’t you so fucking enthusiastic, getting all ready for me without asking,” Shouto grins, his hands grabbing your legs right below your ankle. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you right now?”

“Y-You’re going to fill me up with your cum,” you stammer for he pushes your legs slowly towards you, the stretch in your muscles overwhelming for your sore body. “You’re going to give me your babies.”

“What else?” He taunts, the top of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“B-Breed me like the bitch I am, sir!” Your cry, wanting nothing more than his cock to bury all nine inches in you.

“Come for me one more time, and I’ll make sure to fill you until you’re dripping with my semen for an entire week,” Shouto promises, and his hips slam within you.

Your knees are buried within the mattress by your head, your feet curling and pressing against each other.  Shouto lays on top of you, the penetration deep, and his hands gripping yours. The weight of having him on you is exhilarating, and for the first time this night, his lips press hungrily against yours while ball deep within you.

His cock slams against the wall of your cervix repetitively while his lips overwhelm you. Each slam into you is massive and powerful. Powerful enough to have you sobbing into his mouth while he kisses you, his hands clutching your smaller ones in his.

Again and again, he slams into you. His thrusts knocking the wind out of you until you release his hands and find yourself digging your fingers into his back, crying out his name desperately while his teeth find a home on your neck, sinking into flesh he had long ago broke. The powerful pounding of his cock makes you keen, your hips jerking up to meet his, but you’re useless against his downward thrusts.

“Impregnate me, sir,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, “breed me, please!”

“You’ll be full of my fucking kids in no time, your cute belly will be round with my kid,” he snaps, his cock throbbing within your pussy, and loud echoing slaps fill the room. Your nails claw at his back, marking him in multiple places with clean four red lines.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved perfectly within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises reasonably similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, whore?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh. “You like the way my cock fills your pussy the same way it did that pretty little ass?” You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. Your sanity was lying on a string, his actions the reasons for your downfall.

His leverage was small, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. Before he drilled back into your pussy. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“You like the way I fuck your pussy? The way that I’ll fill you with my seed for days to come?” he growls into your ear, his hips inhumanly slamming into you.

“I need you to breed me,” you sob, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the familiar spastic clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

You squirt wildly, your juices going everywhere, wetting his groin area, and splashing against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he growls, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, sir,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Please, fill me with your seed!”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

Who knew Endeavor was the key to making Shouto lose control. Maybe you needed to get him to fuck you on this bed more often now.

You can feel the cum seeping from your cunt, and Shouto must have too, for he scooped it back in with his fingers, and you chuckled at the feeling of his warm fingers against your seizing cunt. This was nice, you loved this.

“I didn’t go too overboard, did I?” He asks, his voice small given that he saw the blood that trailed down your neck and the raised handprints on your ass.

“No,” you say, your hands running down his muscled sides. “Not at all, I really enjoyed this, sir.”

Your words are teasing, and the two of you chuckle as silence overtakes the two of you.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispers, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“I love you, too, Shouto,” you mumble, your eyes fluttering closed, sleep consuming you.

You don’t remember anything else, only that you woke up the next morning in your bed, your body is strewn with purple bruises, red hickies, and handprints on your body, wearing nothing but Shouto’s shirt and your panties.

“Good morning beautiful,” his voice greets you, and you sigh, soreness rampaging your body.

“Good morning, my love.”

Bonus!

Endeavor walked into his house at three in the morning, the strains of a late night at work had truly exhausted him.

Shouto, who he had asked to take care of his house for only two hours had stayed much later. His son had informed him that he left ten minutes before he arrived. It was too bad, Endeavor thought, he wasn’t able to get back on time to see his son and girlfriend. Tossing his case to the floor, Endeavor was ready for bed.

Trudging through his house, he was quick to realize how humid the house was when he neared his room. His eyebrows scrunched, his attention on alert as he threw open the door, the lights and fan turned on by mistake.

CRASH!

Endeavors’ eyes widened at the sight of the cum-stained bed, the ruined sheets, the slanted chair, and his bed being held together by ice. His eyes locked on the fan blade that fell from its place; it was cracked entirely in the middle. There was no denying that his room was wholly and disgustingly used, and for what?! His stupid kid didn’t ever need to stay!

“SHOUTOOOOOO!”

[antiloreolympus]

13 Anti LO Asks

1. ok but thats seriously what bugs me so much about LO, it never actually lets serious moments be serious, it's always lampooned by rachel's insistent need to force in her juvenile "humor" and never actually depicting how pressing things are. even the following moments from persephone's r//pe was undercut by hades making stupid puns! i understand if rachel cant write something more serious than "[x] is bad" but if thats so, then dont try it? because thats how you end up with this pretentious mess.

2. since when did lo hades have earrings??? i legit do not remember this ever being a thing??? is he trying to be hip with the kids 😭my man you still look like a crusty old man the earrings arent helping 😭

3. lo hermes looks and acts like flaky from happy tree friends and no thats not a compliment (TW for gore, blood, and violence if any of you google it)

4. Even though the earlier art style was better there are still some cursed panels from the earlier pages that still haunt me. Especially the way Persephone was drawn differently in so many of the panels.

5. lo hades has such "how do you do fellow kids" energy and im not sure why

6. im also confused on the fertility goddess stuff because how stupid is persephone if she didnt notice? she can create life and nature without even thinking and shes implied to be a genius in biology, so how would she not even notice this? if RS really wants to go with this plot, then why have her professor bring it up in class? why not show persephone going to her uni's library to research the topic and pouring over it? that's an easy way to show persephone's intelligence, yet LO doesnt even try.

7. What I wanna know in LO was how Demeter and Hestia were compensated after the war. The three brothers got to be kings and Hera is queen, but what we know of Demeter is that she had a millionaire dollar business that’s probably made it on its own (unless she was helped out) and then Hestia all we really know about her is that she runs that TOGEM and idk if there’s only 4 of them, Hestia really had a group by herself for a bit since Athena is Zeus’ (assumed) daughter, Artemis (Zeus’ assumed daughter) and persphone (newest member) which seems shitty since they won a war together

8. I think what happened with LO’s art style was RS got “lazy” (I’m lacking the right word). I feel like without the colors all of the men in LO have the same body type, and Hermès and Apollo may even have the same face if they smile the same. So to compensate for that lack of body diversity, RS doubled down on Hades’ features to make him stand out more to really show he’s the male lead. However, even in her own words he looks like Persphones’ “dusty ass dad”

The women use to be a little different but they’re all starting to blend with body types. Her was small, but now she’s short and busty like Persphone. RS makes Persphone look short and busty all the time but almost childlike. Minthe was skinny but her last moments she was busy. Aphrodite I feel was just busty but then tried to make her look small also with Ares and Hades beside her. Hestia stayed the same but is still small and busty. Athena was tall and thin (?) but now she’s tall but busty (and her relationship with Hestia looks like it mirrors HXP). Idk I just feel like the longer screen time the female characters get the more they start mirroring Persphone’s look. Like even Artemis was getting empathized on being small next to her brother Apollo. Like all the girls gotta look small but curvy as the story goes on. 

9. Demeter: watched her friend get ripped in half. Watched her friend get continually cheated on, paying the price for not hiding a mistress , watched metis get eaten, her back clawed, fought in a war. Later made a daughter who’s a fertility goddess (probably an accident) and now has to raise her. That same daughter then went on a rampage and isn’t really remorseful

Fans: Demeter is such an overbearing mother who gets in the way of our ship.

10. on regards to ace characters, asexuality is a spectrum like everything else, so a lot of asexuals actually do enjoy and have sex, so the maidens doing so isnt inherently a problem, its the fact rachel is clearly viewing it through a strict binary where she assumes asexuality is something that can be "fixed" over time/when the right person comes along. its also a bad modern reading of it, as "virginity" in an ancient sense meant via marriage, not via sex, but I doubt rachel cares to factcheck it.

11. Imagine an elf is given a job to do at a human institution. The humans think elves don’t need bathroom breaks, since they know they can hold it for days, but this elf has been traveling to reach their job, and has already been holding it to the point they are in pain. They ask for a break, but their job is important and time sensitive, so they admit they can still hold it when asked. After a full day of work, the elf tries to reach the bathroom in time, but they were never told where it is.

From OP: I think this might be a nymph allegory? Anon never specified so I'll put this here anyway.

12. ya know if hades has to lie to make apollo seem worse (who does not need much in this comic) its like??? why is he persephone's lawyer then?? lawyers are literally told not to lie, this is basic law 101. thats why they dont want their clients to mention to them if they actually did the crimes because then the lawyers have to say it in court. if hades lies so casually just to keep persephone away from justified punishment, then thats bad actually!  both in being a decent person and as a lawyer!

From OP: Hades didn’t lie but he was definitely out of line. RS liked a tweet saying that the wife thing was “subconscious” so it probably was. (Still doesn’t make it right but I doubt he’d say those things on the stand.)

13. I know Minthe was written in a way she was suppose to be unlikesable, she’s rude, she yells and she doesn’t hesistate. HOWEVER RS wrote her character badly. Minthe is so unliked? How was she able to be a bad gf to hades and Thanatos? Like yes it’s an affair but how was she able to pull 2 gods?! We don’t hear Hades or Thanatos say what they like about her BUT they both still had a fling with her. (Honestly I feel it’s cause RS can’t bare writing one nice thing about the female anatangoist without trying to make Persphone look good)

The other thing bothering me was everyone knew about her relationship with Hades after she put it on fatesbook, but everyone talked about the kiss in such a positive light IN FRONT OF HER. Aren’t they suppose to be scared of her? Why did the girls in the yoga class/dress shop had so much to say about that kiss? Because they knew persphone? Did they know every other detail too? What was their actual beef with Minthe?

I feel like realistically some more characters would have sympathy for Minthe if they didn’t know her that well because of Hera. Everyone knows Hera is a pill to deal with and she’s the goddess of marriage who hasn’t really tried bringing Minthe and Hades to the alter. That right there should let everyone know that Hera probably doesn’t help the situation.

Idk, I feel like RS could have gone deeper and made the character not such HXP shippers cause most people wouldn’t cheer for cheating nor an old ass guy getting with a 19 year old. (Idk how fast the news of the slap spread, but I doubt it made it to every place in their fictional world)

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s Scorching Waves Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an S2 date, 炙浪之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Features S2 Shaw!

[ This date was released in CN on 28 Sep 2020 ]

MC: Mister, this is the place!

After paying the passenger fare, I hurriedly get off the car, but find that the entrance of Live House is already very crowded.

Sweeping my eyes across the area, I receive a shock.

Whether they are male or female, everyone here is donned in punk style: ripped shirts, leather outfits, jackets with rivets on them... A few people even have cool mohawk hairstyles.

At the side, the words “Rock ‘n’ Roll Night” are spray-painted on a wall. Below them is an eye-catching line--

"No entry if your attire doesn’t match the theme”

MC: ...

I look at my surroundings, then lower my head to look at my own officewear... Clearly, under such circumstances, I won’t be able to enter.

With uncertainty in my heart, I take out my phone and make a call.

After a few dial tones, Shaw’s languid voice drifts into my ear. 

Shaw: What’s up?

MC: I’m at the entrance of Live House now.

Shaw: You really came?

His sentence ends with an upward lilt, as though a little surprised.

MC: Yeah. Over the phone last night, didn’t you tell me to come over after my meeting? Since it’s a formal invitation from you, and you’re performing a new song, of course I couldn’t miss it.

Probably not expecting that I’d rush over in time, Shaw pauses at the other end of the line for a while.

Shaw: ...you’re pretty punctual. Are there many people outside? 

MC: Yeah. But the doors don’t seem to be open yet.

Shaw: Of course. After all, I just reached too. Who knew that Old Man would drag out the lesson...

MC: But what do the words on the wall mean? I didn’t know there was a dress code to watch the performance.

Shaw: You didn’t actually wear business attire over, did you?

Shaw’s laughter of ridicule drifts to my ear. Slightly angry, I grip the phone tightly. 

MC: If you keep laughing, I’m leaving!

Shaw: Tch, try to leave if you can. All right, wait where you are.

Shaw pauses, and the soft sound of breathing can be heard from the other end of the line. He seems to be stretching.

Shaw: I’ll pick you up.

-

Because of the way I’m dressed, a few staff members I walk past along the corridor to the break room can’t help but cast sidelong glances at me.

Entering the break room, I discover that there isn’t a single person inside.

MC: Eh, where are the other band members?

Shaw: They’re still on the way.

Shaw closes the door, then lies down on the sofa lazily. I once again check the time.

MC: But the performance is starting in half an hour. Don’t you guys need to rehearse?

Shaw: We’ve been prepared since a long time ago. Heading straight to the stage afterwards is fine. Come to think of it...

He tilts his head, looking me over.

Shaw: This is the first time I’m seeing someone wear business attire to watch a performance. 

MC: The fact that I could rush over already means a lot. Be contented.

Shaw: In that case, prepare yourself to be “saluted” by others later.

I lower my head to look at my outfit. It truly doesn’t suit the crowd.

Also, since there are so many people today, it wouldn’t be convenient to move around later on.

Just as I furrow my brows in vexation, Shaw suddenly speaks. 

Shaw: Hey, I have a suggestion.

Meeting his mischievous gaze, a bad feeling arises in my heart. 

MC: ...what are you planning to do?

Shaw: Since I didn’t notify you in advance, I thought of an idea.

He suddenly stands up and walks towards the wardrobe at the side.

After rifling through it for a while, Shaw takes out a black coloured leather jacket.

Shaw: Try it.

MC: ...is this yours?

Shaw: Why do you care about so many things? Just try it on.

I take the jacket from him. Skeptical, I bring it to my nose to give it a sniff - it has a faint peppermint scent. Looks like it’s pretty clean.

Watching my actions, Shaw gives me a subtle look, and releases a soft “hmph”.

Shaw: If you don’t want to wear it, forget it.

MC: Who says I’m not wearing it.

I snatch the jacket back. Although there are still some concerns in my heart, I can’t be picky considering the current circumstances.

The jacket is a little large, and hangs on my body loosely. However, it’s able to cover my short shirt. 

MC: How’s this?

Shaw: The way you’re dressed...

Shaw pauses, then chuckles softly.

Shaw: Looks pretty punk.

MC: I never thought watching a performance would be so troublesome... Why did you guys suddenly think of having a theme?

Shaw: Because it’s fun.

Shaw responds instantly.

Shaw: People who watch the performances range from working adults to students - all sorts of people. But after changing their outfits, no one will care about their identity. Before music, nobody’s different.

I look at Shaw, a little surprised. I originally thought this activity was just a spur of the moment for them, and didn’t expect that there’d be such a meaning behind it.

Just when I’m about to say something, the lights above my head suddenly flicker.

MC: What happened? Is there a problem with the lights? 

With a glance, Shaw answers indifferently.

Shaw: The voltage isn’t stable, that's all.

Before I can probe further, a series of knocks come at the door. A staff member opens the door, and tells Shaw--

Staff: Get ready, the performance is about to begin.

-

In Live House, there are a mass of bobbing heads as the restless crowd congregate near the stage.

After a short while, I’m pushed to the back.

MC: Do I have to squeeze through the crowd...

Looking at the crowd before me, which is so packed till there isn’t a single crevice, I'm at my wit’s end, and stand in place.

Man A: That bass player is quite interesting. My girlfriend likes him a lot.

Man B: Oh? You’re very magnanimous. Not jealous?

Man A: She just appreciates his musical abilities. He plays really well. See for yourself later.

The conversation between the two man standing in front of me drifts over to my ears. I can’t help but laugh. 

If Shaw knew how he was being commented on, I wonder what he’d think of it.

I whip out my phone, taking a few pictures of the scene.

“There are so many people here today! Seems like quite a number of them are here for you.”

After penning my text message, I send it to Shaw along with the photos.

The performance is about to begin. Despite thinking he wouldn’t reply, my phone suddenly vibrates.

A sentence flashes on the screen.

Shaw’s message: Why are you so far behind?

After a few seconds, another message appears. 

Shaw’s message: Don’t move around. I’ll look for you later.

I’m just about to reply. At this moment, the lights extinguish. The entire venue dives into pitch darkness, and the background music stops.

Without the hyping up of a host, and along with a flurry of shrieks, the band members enter the stage.

Purple light streams down slowly, shrouding the entire stage together with faint mist.

Shaw walks in last, his steps indolent. But his figure is tall, straight, and proud.

He hangs the bass over himself casually. Exchanging a glance with his bandmates, his fingertips flit across the strings lightly.

Along with the first sound from the drums, the performance officially begins.

Without unnecessary cushioning or embellishments, the music goes straight to the theme. The rapid and fierce melody propels the hearts of everyone to beat along with the rhythm and notes.

I’m standing below the stage, my eyes fixed on the people above it. 

Just like the first time I watched him perform, I almost forget to breathe in the midst of the shocking music.

Shaw’s fingers fly back and forth on the strings. He is so skilled in his techniques that even if you were to keep your eyes wide open, you wouldn’t be able to see how he moves his fingers clearly.

The lights and shadows intersperse like an illusion. He sways along with the rhythm, the light in his eyes even fiercer than the swift melody from his fingertips.

I grip the jacket on me. In the crowd - as what Shaw said - I have forgotten my own identity in this very moment.

Just like a normal rock lover, I can’t help but raise my hands in the air.

The climax gradually nears, and the entire crowd waits for the explosive point, their insuppressible shrieks surfacing one after the other.

At this point, the lights hanging on stage suddenly release a “PA” sound, and sparks appear in the air.

The audience in the front row cry out in alarm. The lights continuously flicker, and the buzzing sound of electricity can be heard.

Audience A: !! Did something happen?

Audience B: Seems like a problem with the lights. Could this be a stage malfunction...

People on and off the stage seem to notice this unforeseen event, and chaos erupts in the venue.

Suppressing the panic in my heart, I lift my head to look at Shaw.

In the middle of the flickering lights, I see a bewildered expression on his face too.

After a moment, he seems to think of something. He suddenly lifts his eyes and looks at the audience, his probing glance sweeping across them.

My heart jolts. Subconsciously, I give him a wave.

The surroundings are filled with the clamour of people. After sweeping past numerous profiles, Shaw’s eyes fall on me.

The moment our eyes meet, his frown smoothens out. Under the ever-changing lights and shadows, he reveals a flamboyant smile.

Shaw: Scared?

What’s there to be afraid of? Baffled, I shake my head.

Shaw holds back his smile for a moment, and he seems to be making a soft “tch” sound.

The crowd is still in chaos. Quite a number of them even squeeze towards the entrance, planning to leave the venue.

A staff wearing a name-tag is currently maintaining order in front. My eyes brighten, and I hurriedly squeeze myself over to him.

MC: Hello! The lights have been flickering, and I think it could be because the circuit over there has some issues. 

Staff: All right, thank you!

The clamour from the crowd seems to cover the music. I lift my eyes to look at Shaw, and discover that he’s currently staring at the flickering lights, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

Suddenly, he lifts his hand, and a bright light reflects from the pick between his fingers.

Shaw: Hey, catch up!

He steps on the pedal, matching the rhythm of the flickering lights. A few band members start to react.

The drummer raises his drumsticks in the air, tapping them together a few times. The band members exchange glances, cooperating with the rhythm to commence a spontaneous performance. 

When the audience notice that the performance is continuing, they start cheering enthusiastically. Without realising it, I also start to cheer. 

Shaw pulls out the wire connected to the bass. He walks to the side of the stage, his gaze sweeping across the crowd slowly.

He stretches out his index finger, pointing at the most raucous part of his audience, his eyes burning with fiery light.

The mood of the audience is instantly ignited, and they respond to him with gestures.

Shaw takes two steps back. Then, he turns around fiercely, jumping into the air.

At this moment, the hanging coloured balls open and countless ribbons drift downwards.

The glaring lights stop flickering, and they are all focused on Shaw.

Standing at the back, I see Shaw being lifted by the crowd. Along with the surge of the crowd, he draws closer to me.

The performance on the stage continues. The turbulent music excites every single cell in one’s body in an unparalleled manner.

The performance reaches its peak, and everyone excitedly waves their hands in the air. It’s as though the earlier incident was nothing more than for performance effect.

Shaw and I exchange glances. Even though we’re separated by the crowd, he looks at me with an unbridled smile.

My heartbeat speeds up in my chest along with the sound of the drums.

The thin coat of sweat on his collarbones, his intense gaze, and that hand reaching towards me--

All of them render me unable to avert my gaze.

-

In the break room, I shut the door, cutting myself off from the merriment outside.

With twenty minutes left for the performance, Shaw suddenly handed his bass to me, and asked me to wait for him in the break room.

I look around my surroundings, but don’t see Shaw.

MC: Why is he always like this - deciding things for himself...

I sigh softly, looking at the bass in my arms. My mind flashes back to images of him performing.

I can't help but raise my hand. Based on the melody in my recollection, I try plucking on the strings, humming the tune softly.

??: Hey, you’re out of tune.

I jolt. Turning around, I meet Shaw’s sly gaze.

MC: ...didn’t you manage to recognise what I was playing? It shows that I’m not lacking in talent.

Lowering my head, I continue strumming the strings in indignation. But my wrist is suddenly grabbed from behind.

Shaw: You can use one finger to pluck the strings. That way, the timbre will be more even.

Before realising it, Shaw is already standing behind me. I feel his breath on my ear, and it carries the same fresh peppermint scent as the jacket on me.

I pause, then follow his advice on how to play the bass, realising that there’s indeed an evident change in the timbre.

Shaw: How is it? Isn’t it much better?

Before I can respond, footsteps are heard at the door.

In the next second, the door is pushed open. A band member enters, teasing him good-naturedly.

??: Shaw, are you able to rush your assignment before the deadline...

His voice suddenly halts. The moment he sees me, a few band members freeze.

When they notice the jacket on me, their expressions abruptly change, looking as though they’ve seen a ghost.

Adam: Isn’t that...

Jensen: All right, let’s not disturb their interaction and studies.

Jensen’s voice is genial. A few of them who tacitly understand his words start laughing.

Jensen: Shaw, catch!

A silver coloured object flies in an arc through the air, and a set of keys fall squarely in Shaw’s hand.

Jensen: We’re off. Remember to lock the doors.

In the blink of an eye, they’re all gone. 

MC: Is there something about this jacket?

Shaw rolls his eyes, walking over to the side to tidy up.

Shaw: Don’t bother about them. Let’s go.

-

There’s nobody in the main hall of Live House - a complete opposite of the lively atmosphere just now.

The loudspeakers and musical instruments on the stage have yet to be kept. A sole spotlight is turned on, and messy electrical cables are on the floor.

Thinking about the nice yet interrupted new song just now, a faint sense of regret surfaces in my heart.

MC: Shaw, could you play the bass again?

Shaw pauses in his footsteps. He turns his head to look at me, his expression baffled.

MC: That new song today - you only played it halfway before having to stop. I want to hear you play the full song.

Shaw: Right now? You really know how to order people around. Forget it, I'm in a good mood today. Wait here.

Shaw: Wait here.

He tosses his bag at me, then takes large strides to the front, hopping up onto the stage. 

He picks up the bass casually. Plugging the wire in, he lowers his eyes and sweeps a glance at me.

Shaw: This time, you’ve got to listen carefully.

With this, a melody gradually flows from his fingertips.

Although it’s the same song, it’s different from his performance earlier. He plays every beat unhurriedly, his posture casual and relaxed. 

I’m sitting on the floor, quietly listening to the low sounds of the bass, humming along with the music.

The timbre of the bass beneath his fingers is low and unruly. The occasional pauses and increases in speed are reminiscent of himself and how he does things as he pleases.

There’s a strange tugging of my emotions as memories of the past echo--

A very long time ago, underneath similar dim lights, I had watched Shaw’s performance for the first time.

I tug on the jacket over me, immersing myself in my thoughts, not noticing that Shaw has furrowed his brows above the stage, slightly upset.

Shaw places the bass to the side, then suddenly jumps off the stage.

MC: !

The thud of his feet making contact with the ground pulls me back to the present.

Amid the blurry lights and shadows, the image of him hopping off the stage and the image before me overlap.

In the quiet evening without a restless crowd, Shaw walks towards me, every step especially clear. 

He stops before me. I lift my head to look at him, but am caught off guard when he flicks my forehead. 

MC: Ah!

Shaw: You couldn’t keep your eyes off me when there were many people around. Why do you start losing focus when there are fewer people?

Shaw: Tch, you don’t know how to cherish this.

His face is within reach. My heart beats erratically in my chest once again, just like it did when he was surfing the crowd towards me.

MC: When was I unable to keep my eyes off you...

Shaw arches his brows, his expression reading: “Don’t even think of denying it”.

MC: I was just wondering why you thought of hopping off the stage earlier.

Shaw: What? 

MC: Just now, during the performance. If you had waited for the staff to fix the lights, you wouldn’t have needed to go through such trouble, right?

MC: Also, do you like getting off the stage like that? Isn’t it good to use the stairs?

Shaw: But it’s cooler like this.

Shaw’s tone is confident, and the corners of my lips tug upwards involuntarily.

Shaw: Also, this time is different from before.

MC: How so?

Shaw: It isn’t an accident this time.

He takes the bag in my hands, then walks towards the entrance. 

Shaw: Why are you still standing there? Let’s go.

-

The streets in the wee hours of the morning are tranquil and empty. The streetlights outside Live House cast small, round halos.

Shaw doesn’t speak. A lively melody drifts from his earpieces, and he’s humming a certain song from his band softly.

Shaw: Hey, your car’s here.

I nod, my eyes falling on the skateboard beneath his arm.

MC: You don’t plan to ride the skateboard home today?

Shaw: The board needs waxing. Oh yes, remember to share your location with me when you’re in the car.

We bid each other goodbye with a wave, and I enter the car. With the clinking sound of metal buttons, I realise that I’m still wearing that black coloured jacket.

I roll down the window, and exclaim at him.

MC: Shaw, thanks for your jacket!

Shaw appears to pause in his steps. After a while, he lifts his hand and waves it in the air casually. He doesn’t turn around, carrying the bass.

Shaw: Remember to wash it before returning it to me next time. 

Moonlight falls on the ends of his hair, coating it with a tender halo. Shaw steps into the tranquil night, and it seems like his footsteps have become slightly lighter.

-

🎸 MOMENTS 🎸

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance. 

MC: You’ve already said it once!

Shaw: Saying it twice isn’t enough to express my surprise.

-

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance

MC: And with high-heels. My feet were close to giving up when I reached home...

Shaw: You should have mentioned it earlier. I have a pair of shoes in the break room.

-

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance

MC: Are you touched? To watch your performance, I didn’t even have the time to change my clothes.

Shaw: A little. Hope you can continue in your efforts the next time.

-

Phone call: here

[forever--darling]

the frat boy’s boxers - s.m.

college frat au : part two

warnings: 9k words of the first party, sorority girls, and the hockey team

Alpha Delta Pi or in other words ADPi was spelled out in pink lettering. Large and nailed above the double doors of the three story white house. The old building, larger than most you had passed on the way over, somehow still remained to look classic even though it’s now a sorority house at a college. Besides the block lettering you probably wouldn’t even notice it was a sorority but the many college students that piled out of the home getting completely wasted gave it away. 

It was almost like you could already smell the cheap beer and the hint of weed. The air almost felt different from the sidewalk next to the house compared to the block over. Almost like the humidity thickened and in any second you would be trapped inside of the house, not able to breathe properly from the amount of people that were packed inside. If that wasn’t all the house was practically shaking from the bass of the music and within hours a complaint would more than likely be filed.

Your eyes were pulled away from the white house at a group of boys walking up the front steps carrying a keg in their hands. An unsteady breath passed through your lips, quickly making you realize that this was not your scene and you had never been given the opportunity to make it your scene. You never went to parties in high school when you were finally old enough to life had other plans. 

This was all so new to you and you were sure that as soon as you walked in everyone would notice. They would easily pick up on the fact that you had no idea what the hell you were doing. It didn’t matter that this was something you had always wanted, the parties. The crazy parties where you danced and drank living in the moment before it all would fade away into a haze by the morning. It didn’t matter because that simple want could be ruined by whatever is on the other side of that house’s door. 

That fear though still didn’t kill the small tingle that found a safe place in your stomach. You sometimes wish it was never there but it’s something that you can’t help. You can’t change that you desperately want to find out the unknown of what it’s like playing alcoholic games or waking up the next morning in a stranger’s bed. 

You never got to live up to the hype that was high school parties so you probably had no clue that college parties were a whole other level. You didn’t know what was going to happen but a part of you felt compelled to dive right in and let things happen on its own because after everything, there was something that screamed that you needed this. That you had worked hard your whole entire life and it seemed fair to let loose for once and let things get a little blurry.

The feeling of a hand being placed on your shoulder caused you to look to your side. Emily sent you a comforting smile sensing the nerves that were stirring inside of you. You smiled back to put all worries aside between the both of you. One thing you weren’t worried about was if you were going to be okay by the end of the night because you knew for a night that Emily had you. That Maggie had you. 

Maggie had yet to notice your hesitation, too occupied in the party buzz that was showing in her. She was on the other side of you staring up at the house. A smirk pulled at the edges of her lips as her eyes seemed to hold a certain kind of flame. This may not be your scene but this definitely was Maggie’s. It had taken her exactly a minute to figure out what to wear and was ready within a half hour knowing exactly how to get ready. From the way the dark eye shadow pulled out the glimmer in her eyes towards her black tight skirt and grey fitted crop top it easily said that this was not her first rodeo. 

With that simple thought, you couldn’t help but tense up as you looked her up and down. She looked so good and it took her the least amount of time to get ready out of the three of you. Even sending a glance towards Emily who was dressed in a completely different style than Maggie, you thought the same thing about her. Her high ponytail had been pulled out letting her shoulder length blonde hair run freely and her pink sweater had been exchanged with a cream colored t-shirt dress that fell right above her knees paired with her white sneakers. She was the definition of the girl next door. Clearly they had caught on to your small glances and the way your nails were digging into your forearm. You were insecure and they could see it written across your face. 

You took another deep breath, counting to three before you exhaled, as you glanced down at your outfit tucking a piece of hair behind your ear nervously. Maggie had convinced you to wear the off the shoulder black top she had pulled from your closet. One you had yet to wear and still had the price tag tucked into the collar when pulled off the hanger. The top traveled straight across the top of your chest leaving your shoulders and collarbone on display. You couldn’t deny that it had been tugged down a little farther from you constantly pulling at the end of the long sleeves around your wrists, feeling at ease as the material traveled into your palm giving you something to scrunch every few seconds. 

Paired with the shirt, to make it look a little more casual you pulled out a pair of blue jeans, tighter than the ones you had been wearing earlier, as Maggie’s recommendation. A brown shadow had been pressed onto your lid along with a glossy lip that Emily had pulled from her purse before she fluffed the loose curls in your hair to make them appear more undone and natural. Maggie had tried to get you to wear a pair of black kitten high heels she owned but you decline and went for a pair of brown birkenstocks. 

You gave one last tug on the left sleeve of your shirt, sparing a glance from Emily and then to Maggie, who both were waiting patiently for when you’d be ready to walk in. Nodding, you took a few steps forward and started to make your way towards the front door that was left open and ajar. You came face to face with the place that held your first college party inside. 

You didn’t take another second before stepping into the house being met with every cliche ever written about college parties. A room sat in front of you; swarming with bodies all pressed together, dancing, drinking, getting high out of their minds, but most importantly not giving a shit about anything else except that they needed a refill. You could already feel the music bouncing off your skin causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up while the smell of beer drowned your nostrils. 

For a second your nose scrunched up at the overbearing smell but after a minute got used to the strong odor. Clinging close between Maggie and Emily, your eyes scanned across the entryway where a group of what could be assumed football players were busy clearing a path for races down the stairs on trash can tops. One thing you hoped you wouldn’t ever try in your drunk state within the next few hours.

Standing frozen in front of the door, you stood on your tiptoes hoping to see something other than the group of people stood around the staircase. Turns out, if you craned your neck out enough, you could get a glimpse through a doorway off to the side of another room that held a few couches. Behind that though, there was a vast majority of people huddled together dancing with their hips connected, sweat dripping down their bodies. 

“Hello, ladies,” your eyes snapped away from the room towards the new found voice that had directed itself towards you, Maggie, and Emily. 

Looking up towards the direction of the voice, you were met with the sight of a tall boy with chocolate skin that appeared to be a dark caramel from the soft glow lightening of the entryway. His black hair had been cut short and his lips were showcasing a white smile. He was dressed in a white polo shirt. The top buttons undone to show off his chest while his bottoms were fit tightly in a pair of khakis shorts. Slung over the white polo, hiding away what could only be huge jaw dropping biceps, was a purple zip up with white trim. Also knitted in the corner were the words ‘University of Washington Hockey’. Of course he had to have played some sort of sport with arms like that. 

“So, where are you coming from?” he questioned leaning forward, a red solo cup pressed into his palm, “Freshman?” 

Maggie nodded, face stone cold as his eyes scanned over the three of you, his lip somehow finding its way in between his teeth as his brown irises do another look over towards you. “That’s what I thought. I could sense it,” he said, the words dripping from the smug smile on his lips. 

Maggie stepped forward, pointing a finger into his chest as she yelled over the music, “Yeah and do you have a sense of where we can get something to drink?”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as his eyes flickered back over towards you briefly eyeing your torso, “Yeah, this way.” 

From there, you followed the tall hockey player from the entryway, sending more glances up towards the staircase where some guy was sitting at the top strapping on a black helmet to his head. You are brought through the room that held the cream colored couches and the dance floor that was larger than you had expected. The room could have been an addition to the sitting room or a dining room for all you knew but now seemed more like a club. 

Lights from blue, to red, and green flashed across the people’s faces as they danced, drinks held high in their hands, to the music coming from the speaker system hooked up towards the front of the room where some guy was apparently DJing. 

You were once again pulled from the sight but this time by the tug on your arm from Emily. She gave you a confused look before continuing to drag you along behind her. Entering what could only assume was the kitchen under the bowls of snacks that had been semi spilled onto the counter along with red solo cups left used and abandoned. You watched as the new found hockey player took three new cups from the stack of clean ones and placed them onto the bit of the counter that wasn’t a total mess. He sent a glance at the three of you that had somehow huddled together in the busy kitchen.

“What are you drinking?” he asked with a small grin. 

“Beer,” Maggie replied, watching as he crossed the kitchen towards the large metal keg.

“Maggie,” you turned to see Emily tugging on Maggie’s shoulder, “I think I’ll stick with water or pop.” 

She rolled her eyes briefly as she swung her arm around Emily’s shoulders, “Em, it’s the first party of the year. Like I told this one let loose. If that means I don’t drink as much tonight in order to take care of you (two) than fine.” 

Emily nodded not saying another word as Maggie turned, grabbing two of the red cups handing one to you and then to Emily before grabbing her own. Almost instantly Emily took a long swig, her face scrunching up as the alcohol burned on the way down. She began to cough lightly into her hand. 

“I said let loose, not go to fucking town. Geez, you have all night,” Maggie said, taking a small drink from her own cup.

You chuckled, watching as Emily tangled her fingers into the top of her blonde hair, her lip pushed out in a small pout. Slowly, you brought your own cup to your lips and took a sip. Swallowing you felt the brief burn before it settled into some kind of warmth. Lowering the cup, you looked over Maggie’s shoulder to find the hockey player staring at the three of you, a huge grin pulled at the ends of his lips. 

You watched as his eyes scanned over you once more and as he opened his mouth to say something was caught off by a hand clasping over his shoulder. Beside him was a guy who was a few inches shorter than him with dark brown locks that fell to around his jaw matching his scruff. Along with light blue eyes and equally as large biceps you could easily distinguish him as another member of the hockey team and if his physique didn’t give it away, it was the grey hockey hoodie he wore. You began to wonder if every hockey player on the team had to wear something to the party that made people know exactly who they were. 

“Marcus,” the new guy said, hanging his shoulder off the hockey player who had directed you to the kitchen that you now know as Marcus. “Beer pong let’s go. I need a partner and if the two of us were to team up then Brian and Connor would have no chance.” 

Marcus spared a small smile towards the other boy who had yet to notice the three of you standing there or that he interrupted something. Finally as he directed his eyes back to you, the guy had finally realized that Marcus wasn’t just standing alone in the middle of the kitchen. His blue pools shifted to the three of you, they widened slightly, stopping briefly as they traveled over Emily.  

“Oh, hey. Sorry. I’m Geoff,” he said casually while raising his hand for a small wave before looking back towards Marcus not having a clue who you were. “Freshman,” Marcus declared, answering the question that was running through Geoff’s mind. 

Geoff nodded in excitement, a smile widening across his face, as he looked past Maggie and you to Emily. “Freshman. Well, welcome to the University of Washington. For future reference, the best parties are at Pi Kappa Alpha. The real shit.” 

You could only assume that Pi Kappa Alpha was the fraternity he belonged to and the one Marcus probably belonged to as well. Heck, at this point the whole hockey team were probably all in that fraternity because so far you were picking up on that they liked to party, dress in a way that you know that they played hockey, and clearly had an interest in getting girls drinks. With all of the little things you were starting to pick up on about college and your fellow classmates, you were tempted to withhold from getting totally shit faced just to see what else you could find out about the people that you would be surrounding yourself with.

Plus, you had a feeling that you might be going to quite a few parties this year to make up for lost time and you were bound to get hammered at one of those. For the sake of Maggie seeing you have a good time, you would nurse the beer, stick to one or two. If she began to notice that you weren’t drinking, you would return to the kitchen and refill your empty cup with Coke to ease her hawk eyes and make her believe that you were actually trying to get the whole college experience. Because the college experience would not be complete without drinking so much and dancing so hard that you throw up for hours before passing out on the bathroom floor to only wake up with your memory wiped clean of everything that had happened hours before. 

“Good to know,” you said with a small smirk.

Geoff raised his cup up to you in agreement and sent a small wink before he directed his attention back towards Marcus, “Okay, but seriously beer pong.” 

“Alright, alright. Let’s go,” Marcus said, his voice rushed and sounding on the end of being annoyed. He saluted the three of you turning in the other direction of a door that must have led outside into the back yard. 

“Hey, and freshman, feel free to join in on a game because after all this is your life now too,” Geoff said as he tipped his cup back and downed the contents. He sent a lazy smile towards the three of you as he went and followed Marcus out the door. 

“Well that just happened,” you hummed into your cup while taking another sip as a giggle erupted from the two other girls.

“Come on,” Maggie said, her laughter dying down as she directed her way back out from the kitchen back into the living space. 

“Where are we going?” Emily asked, face laced with confusion. 

Maggie smiled as she led you into the room that was pulsing with music, “To mingle.” 

Both you and Emily disagreed as Maggie found a few people to engage into a conversation. While she did that, you and Emily found a small corner against the wall, near the entryway, to lean on. It was close enough that you could still peek into the room over all of the people and see everyone but also be able to talk without yelling over the loud music. You were taking sips of your drink each getting longer than the last as Emily kept peeking through the window towards the backyard. Both of your minds were elsewhere. 

Your eyes scanned the room, from the couches that had the couples tangling tongues to the dance floor where more and more people seemed to join, never getting tired or wanting to stop. You could even see a faint view across the room through a window that showcased outside. The beer pong game must have been going on just outside that window as you could notice Geoff’s tangled hair from where you stood. It was only getting more tangled as he ran his fingers through it within each throw or drink. That’s where Emily’s gaze had been locked on for the past few minutes. Tapping the rim of your cup against your chin softly, your gaze moved back towards the dance floor just as Maggie slid across the room back to the two of you. 

“Are the two of you going to hide over here for the whole night?” 

“No,” Emily said, her eyes finally removing themselves from the back of Geoff’s head, “But maybe just for a little bit longer.” 

“Guys, come on, we’re in college now. Have some fun, go talk to a random stranger!” Maggie demanded. 

“I’m fine right here.” 

Maggie’s eyes shifted to you as she was not satisfied with Emily’s answer, “Y/N?” 

“I’m okay too,” you mumbled, attention now quickly being brought away from the conversation to a few voices just feet away. 

You began to drone out the argument between the two as the scene meters away became your priority. Two girls stood, tall and skinny, towering over another girl in a way a predator would look down at its prey. Their eyes were narrowed in a vulture like way that made the smaller rounder girl cower. She had circular glasses and long curly brown hair pulled in a low ponytail. You thought you weren’t made for this scene but compared to this girl she stuck out like a sore thumb worse than you did. 

The other two girls who were whispering and sharing looks were the epitome of popular prom queens. They were pressed and perfect, dressed in the shortest skirts and tightest shirts. Their hair was long and voluminous, curled not a single piece out of place. The two of them also had matching pink bracelets that were the same exact color as the letters outside on the top of the house. 

You watched carefully as the girl who had been trapped by them took a step back, head dropping and eyes narrowed on the ground. One of the girls, one who towered and you could easily tell was the one in charge, laughed loudly as she hit her friend’s arm. He friend stifled a laugh of her own as they edged away leaving the round girl alone, face laced in a frown. The two moved to another group where a handful of other girls stood looking like mere copy cats with the same bright pink bracelets. 

The one who seemed to be in control or the queen of the social group stood gossiping, her chest stuck out as far as possible. She was the ideal picture of a woman any guy wanted. Though the heels gave her a few more inches, she was no doubt around 5’7 with long honey brown colored hair that curled on the ends in the middle of her back. With an hourglass figure, she had curvy hips with a tiny waist and was no doubt the single girl most guys wanted in their beds. You couldn’t lie that it made you want to curl up in the corner, so you didn’t have to look at her and compare yourself any more. She had clear skin, and dark eyes that all went well with her small fitted nose. She was pretty almost too pretty, like she wasn’t even from this planet.

Both Emily and Maggie had looked to where your gaze had been invested and also saw the whole interaction play out. You could practically feel the heat burning through Maggie’s clothes from how much anger she was holding in. 

“Did you see that?” she mumbled, her tone sounding as sharp as a night, “God, why are some girls still so bitchy in college?” 

Clearly she had some sort of thing against girls who dress in slutty clothes and have huge egos. To ease her before she actually exploded and ended up tackling one of them, you placed a hand on your shoulder and began to rub small circles with your thumb. She relaxed slightly but not fully and it was silent for a few minutes before Emily spoke up. 

“That would be Becca Bradley,” she said causing yours and Maggie’s eyes to snap towards her confused that she already had a clue who the girl was in a short black skirt, “If there's one thing my roommate likes to do it’s to talk and Alpha Delta Pi is one of the few things she can go on and on about. Becca is the president of the sorority. Lindsey would give anything to be out of our dorm room and in this house which is why she is going to rush.” 

“Oh your roommate is that type?” Maggie said, her breath coming out short as her eyes followed the movement coming from across the room.

“What type?” Emily asked. 

Maggie explained, “The girl who wants to be like the popular girl. She would give anything to be included in the social circle of a sorority girl.” 

Emily sighed, “Yes, very much that type.”

“Well there usually is always one.”

“I think that girl might be crying. Why can’t girls just grow up after high school,” you mumbled, squeezing the cup in your hand tightly. 

“Because for some, college is just like high school to them but on a bigger scale,” Maggie huffed, taking a long sip of her own drink.

Turning away from the two of them, you gazed across the room again, this time catching sight of a group of boys. They came out of the kitchen and into the crowded room, around six to eight of them in total. All muscled and broad shouldered. Your mouth had fallen open but you quickly closed it at the notice of a few of them wearing the same hockey logo that Marcus and Geoff had. You were beginning to think that every good looking guy ended up being a member of the team. 

They entered like they were a pack of wolves, close together, eyes scanning the room with smirks resting on all of their faces. It was an easy guess to say that they too were all members of Pi Kappa Alpha. Nothing seemed more logical than a team full of hot hockey players also being the biggest frat boys on campus. Which meant they were probably just as fuck boy ish as the next fraternity was. 

“I see the rest of the hockey team has arrived,” you mumbled watching as Marcus and Geoff emerged from outside and stalked over towards the group, starting to exchange handshakes and slaps to the back while gently swaying from one side to the other. 

Maggie and Emily’s ears perked up at your words and easily picked out what you were talking about. You noticed the way Emily’s mouth lifted at the sight of Geoff while Maggie stared eye wide at the rest of the men. 

“Is there some reason that the whole fucking hockey team is eye candy,” she groaned, sipping on her drink, “They aren’t my type but how can you resist guys with asses like that?” 

You heard Emily giggle from beside you as she sent a knowing look towards you, “Not to mention they’re all members of Pi Kappa Alpha. So not only jocks but frats too.” 

Maggie rolled her eyes grumbling, “Of course they are. Fan-fucking-tastic.” 

There were things you could have said to add to the conversation but it seemed that your lips were glued shut suddenly as your eyes fell towards the back of the group where Geoff was leaning into a tall body mass dressed in a white hoodie for a bro hug. You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat as you scanned the boy from head to toe. He was one of the tallest in the group with a head full of dark curls messily pushed out of his chiseled face. No doubt just as muscly as the others but not entirely sure from the way his sweatshirt hung loosely on his torso, baggily falling to the top of the blue skinny jeans that hugged his legs tightly. 

Under the dim light of the room his eyes gleamed, as his skin appeared gold besides the pink that brushed over his cheeks giving his face a slight flush. You watched as his head dipped down slightly at something Geoff had said, causing a large smile to break out across his face revealing his white pearly teeth within his pink lips. It made him appear much more boyish and sweet from the way his eyes crinkled and how the blush seemed to deepen. 

If that wasn’t all to prove how angelic he really looked, from tipping his head forward a single curl had fallen across his forehead right above his left eye. Standing up straight his large hand pushed the curl from his face revealing a tattoo of some kind on the top of his hand but before you could decipher what it was, his arm had fallen back to his side disappearing into the pocket of his jeans. The smile had fallen away and the curl was pushed back at the top of his head. His boyish moment was gone and he had returned to looking like every other college guy in the house, oozing with arrogance as a smirk pulled at his lips. 

You knew just like all the others he was a hockey player and no doubt a frat boy. It made you feel ashamed to suddenly feel weak in the knees for someone that probably only intended to take a girl home at the end of the night and to never talk to her again. It made you want to cuss at the fact that your body was getting warm just from the way he crossed his arms over his chest or bit into his lower lip to chew on it. He was probably the hottest thing you had ever laid your eyes on and if you remotely got involved with him it wouldn’t end well. 

The team began to disperse ready to start partying. Few moved outside no doubt to join in on the beer pong tournament that had already been started by their teammates while others headed straight for the kitchen to get a drink or move for a girl their eyes had gotten locked on. He however was still standing in the same spot listening to the light chatter from Geoff nodding or grinning. His arms fell from his chest at someone being behind him. Marcus was standing with two red cups in his hands, handing one to the tall boy who had acknowledged him. As he turned to accept the drink, you could make out the purple lettering on the back of his sweatshirt that made out MENDES in all caps along with a large number eight printed below that. Hockey player he was. 

“And there he is,” Emily said, catching your attention as she pointed towards were Geoff and Marcus were standing next to their teammate, “The captain of the hockey team himself and the ruler of Pi Kappa Alpha. Shawn Mendes.” 

Shawn. You repeated the name under your breath as your palm clamped tightly around the empty cup in your hand. At hearing captain and ruler, your stomach had dropped even further than it had before. Nothing screamed player more than that.

“Sophomore and the university’s golden boy. If there is something anyone knows it’s who Shawn Mendes is. I learned within the twenty minutes I got here because another thing my roommate seems to have an interest in is the hockey team’s star player. She stalked his Instagram and showed me pictures of him for at least a half hour. Says he is one of the reasons she wants to join a sorority so bad. Thinks it will make him notice her or something, but I guess I don’t blame her reasoning because if there is any girl who doesn’t find themselves attracted to him they must be blind,” she continued.

“I’m really starting to hate this school,” Maggie sighed, scanning Shawn from head to toe. 

You still weren’t able to say anything or even pull your eyes from him. Noticing the short black skirt move from where she stood at the edge of the dance floor caused your stomach to drop just a little. She tapped on his shoulder with her perfectly manicured fingers causing him to not only turn around but to have the smile drop from his face. Becca’s lips curled sweetly as her palm found a place on his chest. Leaning as close as she could, you could feel the discomfort from seeing the two of them together, despite you only laying your eyes on him for the first time minutes ago. 

“Can I say that I’m not actually fucking surprised. I mean typical frat boy jock and popular sorority girl, the power couple of the school,” Maggie grumbled, rolling her eyes. 

Emily chuckled leaned against the wall causing you to look in her direction towards her blazing green eyes, “Them together? No.” 

Maggie scoffed, “You sure?” 

“Positive. See everyone wants Shawn including Becca Bradley but the thing is Shawn Mendes doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t like relationships or dates… in fact doesn’t like being tied down at all. Becca to him is nothing but a good screw like any other girl at this school,” Emily explained sipping her drink. 

“Typical,” Maggie replied downing the rest of her drink before letting the cup fall to the ground, “Okay, frat boy is a fuck boy. Got it, same news.” 

Your breath shuttered through your chest as you watched Becca’s arms wrap around Shawn’s neck pulling him down into her, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’m going to get another drink.” 

Both Maggie and Emily nodded barely acknowledging your words as they continued to watch the King and Queen of Washington State. Walking by them, you scanned over the position they were in. In the same spot he had been before, Shawn was stood still in the grasps of the Alpha Delta Pi girl herself but now with both of her hands pressed to his chest as his free hand that wasn’t holding his drink pressed into the dip of her waist. She was obviously saying something but he wasn’t paying attention as his gaze was locked onto something else over her shoulder. 

Taking a deep breath, you tried to process what was happening as you went for the kitchen. Shawn Mendes was everything a girl wanted and you almost felt guilty staring at him the way you were because you didn’t want to be like the rest of them. Even if he returned the look you were giving him, he obviously would only have one thing on his mind. And you were sure if Becca found out that his interest had fallen away from her she would make you the talk of the school in the way you probably originally didn’t have in mind. 

You couldn’t deny that you suddenly were attracted to the tall sophomore but you weren’t about to be his flavor of the night and be tossed aside the next morning. A booty call was something you weren’t going to make out of yourself. You were trying to be the girl that was chased after by boys, not the one doing the chasing and that was what was bound to happen if you were to fall into the grasps of Shawn Mendes. 

Being too caught up in your thoughts about what had happened and all things boys, you weren’t paying attention where you were going. You didn’t see the tall figure in front of you, so when they turned on their heels to move towards the living room the boy collided with you. Your chest pressed against his and in an attempt to steady yourself, your hand wrapped around his bicep. In return his palm landed on your hip holding you steady against him away from his other hand that held the now half empty red solo cup. With most of it fallen out onto the floor and all over his arm, you sighed in relief that you were not stained by the warm liquid. 

You took a deep breath, your eyes locked on the person on the other half of the run in. Your eyes met his chest so lifting your head, you find a pair of warm brown eyes looking down at you. The boy stood in front of you, a sheepish smile on his face as his eyes scanned you to make sure none of his beer had splashed onto you. As he did this, you couldn’t help but stare up at him trying to take in all of his features at once. 

With tan golden skin, the boy before you was tall around 6’0 with brown eyes, long lashes and dark brown hair that curled messily at the top of his forehead making it look fluffy and unkept. Just below his slightly chapped pillowy lips was a small scar that curled back slightly towards his jaw. It instantly made you want to know the story behind that scar. If that wasn’t all, his chest was hard against yours and you could feel the way his large bicep, on the side of the hand that was still holding the red cup, flexed under the tight grip of your palm. His skin was hot to the touch and it caused your fingertips to tingle. You could hear a chuckle under his breath as he turned back towards you, thick eyebrows slightly raised. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” you manage to get out, looking back towards the now wet floor and his drenched hand. 

He chuckled again, “It’s alright.” 

You shook your head removing your hand from his bicep while moving towards a roll of paper towels that sat on the other side of the kitchen. Moving frantically towards the tissue, you could feel as his hand had dropped from your waist, the warmth disappearing. You ignored the absence of his hand and grabbed seven to eight sheets off of the roll. Passing him at least three, you ran your fingers through your hair anxiously beginning to feel the way your legs were trembling. “It’s not. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” 

You bent down and began to wipe at the hardwood floor as the boy dried his hands from his drink. Setting his cup down on the counter, he crouched next to you and used the paper towels in his hands to help you clean up the rest of the beer. “No, really, it’s okay. See no harm done.” 

You took a deep breath as you held the wet towels in your hand. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you looked over to him to see he was already looking at you with a soft smile. “I-- um…” your voice trailed off as you looked at him, a fumbling nervous mess because this was the first real conversation by yourself with a college guy. 

“Hey,” he whispered, reaching over and grabbing your wrist gently to help you up, “It’s fine. Plus I should’ve been watching where I was going too.” 

“Yeah?” your voice was soft and quiet as you stared up at him. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, his hand still gently wrapped around your wrist. 

Silence fell over the empty kitchen that was slightly shaking from the music in the living room. In the moment you looked him over, pausing as you looked across his chest to make sure you didn’t see any hockey logo anywhere across his shirt. There wasn’t and you felt relieved when it was just a regular black t-shirt. Well tight fitted t-shirt that hugged his biceps making them bulge against the black material. Not a hockey player which means probably not a member of Pi Kappa Alpha. Biting onto your bottom lip, you lifted your eyes to meet his. He looked you up and down causing a blush to travel up your neck and your cheeks. He easily noticed the flush that had covered your face and his smile widened at the sight. 

“So,” he began leaning forward, cocking his head to the side as his tongue ran along his bottom lip, “I haven’t seen you around before.” 

“I’m a freshman,” you replied. 

“I figured,” he laughed as his hand released around your wrist and lifted it out towards you, “Henry Thunderman. Sophomore.” 

You smiled sliding your palm into his and just as you were about to mumble out your name you were cut off by a loud yell coming from the door that led outside towards the backyard. “Yo, Thunderman. Want to play a game of pong or not?”

The voice belonged to some redhead who was tapping his foot impatiently against the floor. Henry glanced from the guy back to you and was about to glare back at the boy but was pulled away from your voice. “You can go, you know. Beer pong calls.” 

“You sure,” he asked, “I can stick around if you need me to just in case you run into someone else with a cup full of beer.” 

You laughed playfully, rolling your eyes, “Thanks, but I think I’ll be fine.” 

He nodded, voice laced with laughter, “Alright will I see you later, then?” 

“Maybe,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling confident, “That depends on if you can find me.” 

Moving backwards, you walked out of the kitchen forgetting about your drink all together as his chocolate orbs followed you until you were out of sight. As you made your way back into the living room, you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot but as your eyes fell onto your two friends across the room, your smile disappeared. So focused on this new situation you couldn’t even look to see if Shawn was still standing where you last saw him. 

There still leaning against the wall was Maggie and Emily stood next to some short girl. She had short platinum blonde hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head as she was dressed in a pair of black very ripped jeans and a pink tank top that showed off way more cleavage than needed with a red cup in her hand. She had large winged eyeliner on and a lot of blush that made her cheeks a shade of orange. She looked the way she sounded in your opinion. Ugly. 

“What did I tell you about talking to me in public Emily. I don’t need everyone knowing that you’re my roommate. Well, at least my roommate for the next month or so,” she spat, arms placed firmly on her hips. 

“Hey, I suggest you walk away before that ponytail somehow finds its way off of your head,” Maggie said her words dripping with venom. 

“Huh, nice people you’ve met Em. Enjoy the party tonight because who knows when you’ll be invited to the next one,” the girl who could be assumed as Lindsey replied sending them a small wink, “You do realize that after this Alpha Delta Pi parties will be invite only and let’s be honest that you won’t ever get one.” 

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” you asked, stopping the girl before she could walk away. 

She huffed, “Oh great, there's another one.” 

“You do realize you’re saying this stuff out loud right?” you questioned sarcastically, hand finding a place on your hip. 

“Yeah, and you do realize that this is none of your fucking business,” Lindsey replied her eyes narrowing as her lip curled into a snarl. 

Sighing loudly you took a step closer to her and lowered your voice, “Look, I thought this was like a given but we’re not in high school anymore, which means all of this drama you’re starting doesn’t need to happen.” 

“And like I said before you should mind your own fucking business and stay out of my roommate’s and mine.”

“I think you should apologize,” you continued, refusing to back down, not able to glace anywhere but this bitch in front of you which meant you were unaware of the many pairs of eyes looking towards the scene that was unfolding. 

Lindsey stepped forward and tipped her cup forward. The beer fell out and ran all across your chest and shirt. You gasped as she chucked the cup to the side before sending you a wide smile.

“And I think not,” she spat, hitting your shoulder as she passed you. 

With your hands raised at your sides, your eyes were wide and mouth open in shock that she actually had the nerve to do that. Staring down at your shirt, your eyes snapped into the direction of where a sharp loud laugh was coming from. There stood where she had been since you left for the kitchen was Becca. 

She was hanging off Shawn, laughing obnoxiously and pointing at you while making comments that only made the other sorority girls laugh along with her. Closing your mouth, you looked up to two honey colored eyes staring at you. Shawn’s arms were pressed to his sides and he gave you an apologetic look from across the room. He wasn’t laughing like most of the other frat guys or smirking at how the shirt stuck to your chest. His expression was soft like he felt bad for you in that moment which almost felt worse than him laughing at you. 

Turning to face your friends you could hear Maggie mumble a “bitch” under her breath as Emily just frowned at you. Taking in a deep breath, you exchanged glances with both of them, “Lindsey, I’m guessing.” 

“Yeah,” Emily said wrapping her arms around herself, “She’s a real treat isn’t she?”

Glancing from Emily to the way Maggie was fuming and her nostrils were flaring you motioned towards a hallway as the nerves bubbled within your stomach from all the people who still stared at you, “Let’s find a bathroom and after that I could really use another drink.” 

*

Hours later, here you were stumbling home with one drunk girl on one arm and a tipsy one on the other. You knew that offering them a drink and more after that, someone had to remain sober enough to get the three of you back towards your hall in one piece. So you stuck to water the rest of the night making sure that they were having fun. After running into Lindsey, Emily began to slam one drink after another clearly not thinking about the consequences that will rise in the next morning. 

Maggie on the other hand only had like three more beers which gave her a slight buzz but not enough to slur all of her words together. It was around one a.m. when you and Maggie had finally gathered Emily into your arms and began to walk her home leaving the party that was still in full swing. The hall was just around the corner and you had never been so thankful in your life because it was getting harder and harder to keep the one girl upright as she danced and sang the theme song of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. 

Maggie shouted loudly along even though she had nowhere near as much alcohol in her as Emily. The last few hours had gone from beers to doing shots with the football team and then playing quarters with some sorority girls that lived a block down from Alpha Delta Pi and now you’re here squished against two people that you met almost a day ago and they somehow had become the two people you’ve trusted more than anyone else. I mean how could you not trust two girls who were screaming out the words sung by Will Smith.

To say that the stairs that led up towards your dorm was a challenge was an understatement. It took you at least ten minutes to get up one flight of stairs and as soon as you unlocked the door of your room, you and Maggie dropped Emily onto your bed. Maggie went to her bed and began to pull at her black bedspread, suddenly forgetting the Bel Air theme song and taking up the fact that she was in her own room. Her eyes were still open as she looked from you to Emily. 

Turning towards your bed, you found the other girl spread out across your freshly made mattress and you knew that you weren’t about to send her into the vicious hands of her roommate. She would probably let the blonde girl choke on her own vomit for all you knew and you weren’t about to let that happen at any cost. So instead, you unlaced her white sneakers and pulled them from her feet one at a time before you threw a fuzzy blanket over her drowsy figure. 

Her eyelids were closed and you thought that she had fallen asleep but as you went to grab some clothes to change into for the night, about to go towards the bathroom down the hall, a string of words fell from her no longer glossy lips causing you to stop at the edge of the bed. “Could you imagine if I rushed for Alpha Delta Pi and I got in but Lindsey didn’t. Oh what I would pay to see the look on her face.”

Her words were muffled and slurred but you were still able to make them out. Turning to glance over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Maggie who stared at you eyebrows furrowed. You stood there for another minute waiting to see if Emily was going to say anything else but she fell silent soon consumed by light snores. You frowned as you turned her on her side in case she were to throw up. It was a miracle that she hadn’t yet with all the alcohol she had consumed in the short few hours. Grabbing a pair of sleeping shorts and a baggy blue tee, you made sure Emily was comfortable and Maggie was still awake before you slipped on a pair of slippers and wandered down the hall towards the bathroom. 

The whole time you were getting ready for bed, you couldn’t help but think about the events of the night. From the moment you walked in and realized just who the Alpha Delta Pi’s sisters were to laying eyes on the whole hockey team. To seeing Shawn for the very first time all the way to running into Henry and spilling his beer across the floor. You hadn’t seen him for the rest of the night despite him asking if he would and it made you contemplate for several minutes if your flirty response was the reason why. You quickly brushed it aside coming up with an excuse that he probably had gotten too caught up with beer pong like you had gotten too caught up with taking care of Dumb and Dumber or how you got beer dumped onto your brand new shirt. 

You were so caught up in taking care of Emily and trying to keep away from Shawn that you had failed to look for Henry too or even think about him until you had gotten back into your room. That’s when you also realized that he had no idea what your name was. You were interrupted before you had the chance to and as you entered back into the dorm room and looked from your two friends you realized that you weren’t probably going to see Henry again because you were too stupid to tell him your name. With how big this campus was there was a chance you could never see the man again. 

Shawn Mendes. You repeated the name over and over in your head and thought about the moment you first saw him to the last. How he looked to change into a completely different person. To be fair, you didn’t know him. Not one bit, but from the soft eyes and frown he had given you over what had happened with Lindsey, you had a feeling that it couldn’t have really been him. He was moments before talking to his fellow teammates with a smirk rested on his face then sort of feeling Becca up while blatantly ignoring her. So either Shawn was just messing with you or there was a side to him that almost didn’t exist. You mean a side he didn’t show to anyone. Could it be possible that the Shawn Mendes actually had a heart within that hard chest of his? The world may never know. 

Arriving back into your room, you were faced with not only one girl passed out but now two. Sighing you took a few throw blankets from off your bed and laid them out across the floor. You stole a pillow that had somehow been kicked onto the end of the bed from Emily before taking your laptop from your desk. Trying to get as comfortable as one could on a hardwood floor, you opened the laptop and propped it onto your lap. Opening a new tab, you typed Instagram into the search bar. As soon as the website was opened and onto your profile you knew you would instantly regret what you were about to do. Going to the search bar, your fingers hovered over the white keyboard questioning yourself if this was even worth it. Rolling your eyes, you typed his name in anyways. Shawn Mendes. 

Only one profile came up with the name. You knew it was his from the profile picture that was him on the rink back facing the camera, his last name and number eight that gave it away. Clicking onto it, the profile pulled across your face. Shawn Mendes. Bio; Washington University 2021. Hockey. Posts; 62. Followers; 24.2k. Following; 902. 

“Popular guy,” you thought to yourself as you began to scroll through his posts. 

At each one you looked at, you felt your stomach tighten just a little bit more. You felt embarrassed to be doing this after all seeing him once and even worse about how he made your chest flutter. From the pictures of him shirtless on a boat with his teammates, to him playing on the rink in his uniform, to family pictures back in his hometown, you couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t such a bad guy. It was the smile he gave in each picture or the kiss he placed on his mother’s cheek. He seemed so genuine. 

There weren’t any pictures of him with girls or him at parties. Or anything remotely bad but you knew this was just his image. 24.2k followers. He can’t have them knowing of his frat boy antics or fuck boy advances. You didn’t know him but you wanted to and that was a problem. 

Hearing shuffling from beside up on one of the beds, you closed out the tab as quick as possible and looked up to find Maggie sitting up in her bed, eyeing you curiously. Her hair was slightly tangled now from her twenty minute nap and her eyeliner was smudged. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” you responded, “What are you doing?” 

She shrugged, sending you a smile that could only mean trouble, “I can’t sleep. I’ve been thinking a lot and I’ve just now realized how much of a fucking genius I am.”

next part

[nikibogwater]

A Shot in the Dark: Chapter One (Author’s Commentary)

(read the fic here)

General Notes:

(So I kind of stole this idea from my friend @unexpected-possibilities after she made an author’s commentary post on one of her fics, and I was like “Oh. Wait, I actually find this kind of stuff SUPER interesting to read." So...yeah, here’s mine for anybody who feels similarly lol)

I have been dying to write this kind of story pretty much since the completion of my second Wizards/ToA fic back in August, but it took me a while to suss out the plot. I generally try to keep my fics as canon-friendly as possible (not that I have anything against AUs, that’s just not a direction that I usually go in) so it was tricky to create a high-stakes adventure story that didn’t mess with canon too much. 

That being said, Chapter 1 is pretty chill, apart from the scene at the end. But it is incredibly important to the plot, because it sets up elements that will be very relevant later in the story. It also serves to re-establish the three-way relationship between Douxie, Archie, and Nari, which will give their interactions in the future chapters more weight. 

One last general note before we get to the passage-specific stuff: The song “Protector” by City Wolf has always been my go-to theme for the Douxie-Archie-Nari relationship, but I think it really captures the feel of this story in particular (or at least, it will once the whole thing is posted lol). I’ve never associated a particular song with any of my other fics before, but this one really was a huge part of what inspired this story, so I highly recommend that you give it a listen, if you are so inclined.

Passage-Specific Notes:

Two pairs of luminous golden eyes were hovering uncomfortably close to his head and staring at him fixedly. Douxie yelped and threw off his covers, scrambling upright and fumbling for his magic vambrace nearby. A small green hand held it out to him politely, and after a bit of confused blinking, Douxie finally registered the faces of his companions. Nari and Archie were sitting on the floor next to his mattress, looking at him eagerly. 

Two short things: One: I had no idea how I was going to start this scene, and then I remembered that one Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin wakes up to find Hobbes hovering over him menacingly, and I was like “Yes, that will do nicely.” Two: I still have no idea what Douxie’s magic bracelet-thingy should technically be called, so I settled on vambrace. I know Merlin refers to it as a bracelet in the show, but Merl, I’m sorry, but you clearly know nothing about jewelry. That thing is NOT a simple bracelet. (Also I had to research the difference between bracers and vambraces in order to determine which word to use. Bracers are apparently protective gear that is exclusive to archery, while vambrace is a more general word for any kind of armor worn on the forearm).

“It’s also the day you promised to bring Nari to Central Park,” Archie informed him.

This is a callback to a previous entry in the series, Home Away From Home. Although each entry in the Immortal Bonds series is written in such a way that it can be enjoyed as a standalone, I do weave tiny threads of continuity throughout all of them.

Mornings for Nari looked very different than they used to, she realized as she set the kettle on the stove, stepping back so Archie could light it (due to her somewhat complicated relationship with Bellroc, she was still wary about anything that involved fire). As a demigoddess who had existed for hundreds of millenia, she had never had much experience with something as human as family domesticity.

The scene where Nari and Archie make Douxie’s tea was originally going to be much longer and feature a lot more introspection on Nari’s part (I even researched the British tea-making process for it, since I’m fairly certain Douxie is the one who taught her how to make tea). I was going to start exploring the idea that Nari is still insecure about her place in this little found family, but I realized after about three paragraphs that there’s no way Nari doesn’t know how much Douxie genuinely loves her--she is already proficient in reading his emotions at this point. So that’s an internal conflict for another day.

“Keep very still for me, Nari.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his aura flowing out and wrapping around her like a warm, familiar cloak. “Celare,” he murmured, and Nari felt a sharp tug on her spirit as the spell washed over it, cool and comforting like the shade of an old tree.

If you’ve read previous entries in this series, you know that I can wax poetic about the physical sensations of magic for DAYS. It is one of my favorite aspects of writing Tales of Arcadia fanfiction. Also Celare (kel-ahr-ay) is Latin for “Hide” or “Conceal.” I had to get outside help for this because I don’t speak Latin, and Google Translate is (as I found out) completely unreliable for even the simplest, single-word translations (it gave me the word for “clothe” when I used it 😑)

The first time she had walked the streets of New York City, Nari had been on the verge of tears. There were so many sensations assaulting her mind at once, the feeling of countless souls buzzing around, a crowd of spirits so thick that sometimes it felt like a wall. Even without tapping into her roots, she was drowning in a sea of tangling energies, as hundreds, even thousands of voices echoed in her soul all at once.

Oooooops, is that a parallel for Sensory Processing Disorder? Well, how did that get in there??? *shoves my own mental health issues under a rug with my foot* I have no clue.

This is probably as good a time as any to discuss auras vs. life energy. Basically, aura is the energy radiated by the presence of magic. Magical creatures who share close bonds can become very sensitive to one another’s aura, and because magic is so inextricably linked to emotion, Nari is able to read Douxie’s aura to pick up on whatever he’s feeling (though this is because she is extra sensitive to magical presence--Douxie is attuned to her aura, but he can’t read hers the way she can his). Life energy, meanwhile, is the energy given off by every living soul, magic or otherwise, and that’s what Nari is able to sense via her powers as a demigoddess. I sometimes interchange the word aura with spirit or soul or something similar, but if Douxie or Nari are sensing one another in any capacity apart from their actual physical senses, it’s their auras. Archie also has an aura, but it’s not as intense as that of a true magic-wielder.  

He was fashionably dressed, (“business casual,” the humans called it), with an elegant black trench coat hanging nonchalantly off of his arm. He had dark brown hair, handsomely trimmed and styled, just a bit shorter than Douxie’s, and was wearing a large pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. He looked thoroughly uninterested in the world around him, and had the appearance of someone who was waiting to meet up with a particularly tardy acquaintance. But Nari couldn’t sense that he was waiting. She couldn’t sense anything from this man. He emitted no life force, no aura or energy of any kind. He was like a standing, breathing corpse.

I have had this character floating around in the back of my mind since August, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to use him. Also fun fact, he was originally conceived as a sort of prototype for who I thought Mordred Le Fey would be in the ToA universe. But since canon is technically still ongoing and the ToA writers could still bring Mordred into the picture, I decided to adapt him into the original character Rivan (whose name will be properly revealed in the next chapter).

Beside her, Douxie’s aura was rippling with unease. But a moment later, his spirit stilled, and he put an arm around her to turn her away from the alley...

...A minute later, the crosswalk signal changed once more, and they continued on their way. Though Douxie’s spirit was radiating a placid energy, Nari couldn’t help noticing that he kept his arm around her for the rest of the journey.

It was important to me that Douxie not look like a complete idiot in this scene, which was a little difficult since this part isn’t told from his perspective. Homeboy absolutely knows better than to ignore something suspicious like this. But he is also acting as Nari’s brother/guardian in this scene, so he tries to play it off to keep her from worrying too much. He promised her a fun day in Central Park, and he’s not willing to bail on that just yet. But I’m hoping that the fact that he has to force his aura into a state of calm and physically holds Nari close to him as they walk are good indicators that he has gone on high alert.

And that’s a wrap for this week! Next Friday, all hell is gonna break loose, so definitely come back for that. If you have any questions/comments, definitely hit me up either in my Ask Box or over on Ao3. As always, thanks for reading! ✨💕

[mvnvgedmischief]

you’re so obtuse but i love you anyway: au where sirius doesn’t go to azkaban, and james and lily don’t die, and sirius and remus work at hogwarts, in conjunction with the wolfstar nerds discord server. 

sirius is chaperoning a hogsmeade weekend. he wears his leather jacket, emblazoned with padfoot across the back, and his favorite sex pistols jumper to the outing.

1.7k words of fluff

the sunshine streaming in to the room is a lie if you ask sirius. the warm glow of the morning dapples in through the windows, and casts the most glorious light on remus’s dirty blonde waves, and illuminates the splattering of caramel freckles on remus’s nose. it truly is a sight to behond, and if sirius didn’t feel so utterly cynical about the sun right now, he’d probably thanking merlin that he gets to see remus looking this beautiful and peaceful. but the sun is a liar.  april in scotland has no business pretending to be warm the way it does. the sun beaming down on the grass looks so fucking lovely that he shouldn’t need a coat, and yet the temperature is still a cool 45 degrees. 

he’s lucky that he isn’t expected to dress with the formality does to teach, he’s lucky, because it means he can pull on the acid washed sex pistols jumper remus has been wearing around their quarters recently, that smells like him, to chaperone his third years at hogsmeade. he’s so grateful that he and remus are here, together, teaching. in their youth, they had never really grasped what life would be like beyond the war. he and james had discussed it once, but they never got further into the conversation then maybe we’ll be quidditch players. and puddlemere united didn’t want someone like him on the team. james didn’t want to go out for the trial when he had a new baby at home. so instead, sirius and remus had settled for a bit. they had a spell of muggle london, and they had loved every minute of it. they had relaxed into routines of going to clubs, going on dates, perfecting recipes, and living in domestic bliss. but eventually, that had come to an end, and they needed something to occupy their days. sirius was thankful that the war had ended, and that dumbledore had offered him a job at his alma mater, teaching defense against the dark arts, no less. it had always been a class he deemed useful, despite how close to home it hit for him. he and remus were back in the castle they had forged their relationship in, walking the same walls they walked in their youth. and now, he was off to watch a new generation of students do the same thing, taking their friends to hogsmeade and courting each other over a chocolate bar. 

he thin fingers wrap around the soft fabric of the jumper, and the feeling of warmth, of a closeness to his lover, radiates through him from the contact. it makes his chest ache in the best way to have access to remus’s clothes like this, and to be able to wear them without fear. there had been so much to be afraid of, so many hurdles to overcome in this castle the first time. but the world was a different place, four short years ago when he graduated. he pulls the jumper over his head, and the smell of parchment, oak, and earth overwhelms him. it could make him cry tears of joy, if he thought too hard about it. he slips on his drainpipe jeans, and his chuck taylor trainers. remus had always been fond of them, and who was sirius to deny his boyfriend the simple pleasures in life. he puts on the kettle, as usual for his morning routine, and heads toward a mirror to style his hair. he’s finally gotten his inky strands to lay just right when he hears remus stirring in bed. the part of his mind that he thinks accounts for his wit forces a smug smile on his face, because he can’t help the way he immediately feels pride knowing when remus will wake up, given his routine. just on time. 

when remus finally sits up in bed, the kettle is ready. so instead of returning empty handed, sirius waltzes back towards the four poster bed with to mugs in toe, one tea black with a heaping scoop of sugar, one with milk and honey in the perfect balance for his snobbish, tea drinker boyfriend. there’s a light smile on his face, and he hands off the beverage before he even has the time to greet remus with a sweet good morning moonbeam. 

“cariad bore da” remus smiles, his eyes still hazy in his early morning sleepiness. 

“morning, love.” sirius smiles, although he’d be a liar if he said he’d actually been told what those words meant. through context clues, he’d figured it out long ago. it’s the same way remus greets him every morning, with the same pet name he’d been given all those years ago in sixth year.

“you’re chaperone today, right?”  “yeah, ‘m right chuffed about it honestly.” “oh, i’m sure you are.” remus grins, because he knows that sirius “i’m super punk” black loves chaperoning the kids on hogsmeade weekends. he loves to impart any wisdom he has at zonko’s. he loves to come back with little surprises, like a new book or some chocolates for remus. 

“so you’ll be back around dinner, then, yeah?”

“should be. i’ve got to shove off, if i don’t want minnie to have my arse for being late.”

sirius pulls remus into a kiss, and it’s so full of the love and peace they’ve made for themselves, right here, in this home. if sirius was being honest, he’s probably never been more at ease, even with the snivelling greasy git of snape roaming the halls with him. he pulls on his leather jacket and makes a move for the door. 

“oi, sirius black! you’re really gonna walk out of here in that jacket, and my jumper, right now. that’s fucking unfair.” 

“moony, i’ll be walking back in here in your jumper and this jacket in a couple of hours.” he laughs. he tosses his hair over his shoulder to make eye contact with remus as he reaches for the door, and he definitely doesn’t pretend not to notice the way remus gives him a once over with a love sick smile adorning his face.

–––––––––––

when sirius arrives in hogsmeade, he does as he’s supposed to. he keeps an eye on the kids, seating himself on a bench to keep track of who’s going in and out of zonkos. he’s already taken care of his errands in the small town for the day, a tiny package secured in the zipped pocket of his jacket, and a bar of chocolate for remus in his other pocket, patiently waiting for when he returns to their chambers in the evening. he doesn’t expect to see liz tuttle and penny haywood walking up to him, eyes wide and giggling over something. neither seemed like the pranking type, and most of the students knew that that was truly his specialty on these trips. 

“professor black!” penny calls, and he looks up from his book to acknowledge them. 

“alright girls?”

“we just had a question for you.” liz begins, her eyes fixed intently on his jacket. he isn’t exactly shocked, really, neither penny nor liz had ever asked him about it, but that didn’t mean plenty of other students hadn’t had inquiries about his proclivity for muggle fashion, or the fact that he never wore robes. both he and remus dressed much more like muggles than the majority of the hogwarts staff, and students were bound to have questions about muggle casual clothes. 

“what’s a padfoot?” liz asks. she was clearly the bolder of the two, but penny was also a joy in his class.

“sorry– what?” 

“padfoot? you’re always wearing that jacket, and it says padfoot across the back. what’s it mean?” 

sirius can feel his lips curling into a smile, but he simply shakes his head. he couldn’t tell them it was his nickname. not when the map, which was still in the castle, clearly stated messr. padfoot on it. he could deny any connection to the map, should it come up, if no one knew it was his nickname. 

“it’s a muggle joke, girls. don’t worry about it.” 

“is that–” penny starts, but liz shoots her some kind of look that sirius has neither the time nor the energy to decode. “is that the jumper professor lupin wears all the time?”

that however, does get a reaction out of him. the young man can feel his cheeks going read at the question, because he really didn’t think these kids took so much stock of his and remus’s closet, and it was his jumper anyways, why shouldn’t he wear it?

“‘s a matter of fact, yeah, it is.”

“oh– you two must have been very good friends while you were at hogwarts if you share clothes.”

“yeah, friends.” sirius agrees, resigned to the fact that he knew remus didn’t want everyone talking about their relationship. sure, it had been four years since they attended hogwarts, but that didn’t mean the bigotry they had experienced no longer existed. and they were so happy here, it would be ridiculous to jeapordize it, if students’ parents found out about them. 

––––––––––

when sirius returns for the evening, he’s in just as breezy of a mood as when he left. he’s got a shit eating grin on his face, because he’s overwhelmed with joy every time he spends a moment alone with remus. as soon as he’s back, he’s finding his place with his arms wrapped around remus, and his lips pressing gentle, loving kisses into his boyfriend’s hair. 

“i got you something today.”

“you always get me something when you’re chaperoning.”

“if i want to spoil you moonshine, i’m going to.”

sirius pulls the small package out of one pocket, and the bar of chocolate out of the other. when remus’s hands pull the wrapper off of the smaller of the two boxes, and open what’s inside, the joy on his face is something that sirius is sure could rival any magic, or any god.

“just wanted to say i love you.” sirius whispers, watching as remus slips the modest silver band on his finger. 

“i love you too.”

[agoodsfpage]

“This is Morgan Winters, Barely Alive on GLNS News!” - Part 1

Hey!  Posted this here and on the forum. Those of you who know me there will know this will not be the first time I've posted the first part of a story, promised to deliver more, and then abandoned the project within, like, an hour, but trust me, guys... I'm going to finish this one this time. I can feel it in my bones.

Anyway, something about the concept of a news reporter catching a cold has been weighing on my brain for just the longest time so I bring you this first part, in which our news reporters does *not*, in fact, catch a cold yet.

There is a little bit of sneezing and illness stuff at the end, but this is mostly about setting the scene, establishing some characters. I feel like actually having some kind of plot is a nice minimal standard to achieve with storytelling, but this might be why I'm always too lazy to finish telling them. If I do fail to post the second part of this one, my next story will just be called 'woman with a cold who is sneezing' and will just be about someone, like, going to various places.

With that in mind, do feel free to remind me to pick this up if you actually really want to see where this story (kind of inevitably) ends up going.

And, excuse the poor formatting. It is not my strong suit.

"...and despite facing calls to resign, the counselor has confirmed he'll remain in his post. From GLNS, this is Morgan Winters, back to you Alex."

   Morgan yanked the earpiece out from her ear as quickly as she could, and ran a hand through her long black hair.

   "How was that?" she asked Derek, from behind the camera, who gave a simple thumbs up in response. "Good," she said. "Now get me out of here. It's fucking freezing, and these old government buildings never seem to have any heating" "We got a taxi waiting for you outside to get you back to the studio" he replied, as he rewound the footage. "Think we're going to end up back in the van, though, if you ask me. Molly just took a phone call from the boss. Suspect she's going to be looking for you any minute now"

   Morgan rolled her eyes and sighed. "Of course she is. What now? World's tallest scarecrow just collapsed? Local teen gets tongue frozen to lampost? Or are we going to interview the mayor's husband again, and hope he's sober enough to string together a full sentence this time?"

   Derek shrugged. "I don't commission 'em, Morgan, I just film 'em. You'll have to ask her." "I'll have to avoid her, more like. I'm going to the office. I have a mountain of work to catch up on. I don't have time to do some twee interview with Farmer Dan about Potatofest '22, or whatever they want from me." "You do what you want. Taxi's that way, though. Next to the van" Derek replied, smirking, pointing to the east side of the building, and not taking his eyes off of the footage.

   Morgan sighed and made her way to the city hall car park. She spied her taxi from across the road and started to walk towards it when she heard her name in an all-too-familiar and all-too-cheerful tone of voice.

   "Slow down, Morgan" Molly called out, from behind her. Morgan closed her eyes, silently cursed her luck, and turned around to face Molly, who was dressed in a garnet-red beret, that (in Morgan's humble and, admittedly, uninformed opinion) badly compliment her curly, silver-blonde hair.

   "I am so sorry, Molly, I almost forgot to wait for you," she said, forcing herself to smile. "That's alright, I'd just disappeared to make a quick phone call" Molly replied. "From the station," she said after a slightly uncomfortable pause. "Oh, they're always bothering us while we're busy. Well, I best be going, I need to get back to the--" "Could you do me a favor, Morgan?"

   Morgan gritted her teeth, her green eyes lightly glazing over as Molly carried on.

   "You see," Molly continued barely registering Morgan's expression, "the public health department just got in touch. It's that time of year when colds and such things are going around, you see. So, the department was wondering if we could send a reporter down to a local physician's to do a quick cold and flu safety report"

   Morgan shook her head. "No, Molly, no, absolutely not. I told you, I'm done with these... nothing reports. I'm a serious journalist, alright? I have a degree-- two degrees! Two degrees, I have a Bachelors in Communication, and a Masters in Media and Journalism, okay? I should be covering far more serious topics than this. Health- public health isn't even something I know anything about. Can't you ask Alice to do it?" "We did ask Alice to do it!" Molly replied. "And?" "She can't" "Why not?" "Caught a cold."

   Morgan rolled her eyes. "Well, what about Steve or Michael? They should be grateful for any work at this point, to be honest" "No, look, the department wants *you*. They've seen you! They think you have a really down-to-earth personality and a great presentation style. Perfect for delivering this kind of message."

   Morgan paused. "They asked for me?" "Yes" "...and they think I have a great presentation style?" "Absolutely" "And a down-to-earth personality?" "Yeah, maybe. Anyway, look, if you do this, there's sure to be some more work coming your way. Good work, too. Not these fluff pieces, not these interviews with outraged retirees. You get to do what you want." Morgan really thought about it. "...No more local food and culture festivals?" "No more anything, just pure you." "...Fine. Fuck you, but... fine." Morgan replied. "When do they want me?" Molly looked at her watch and looked back up at Morgan. "Half an hour ago."

--------

   It was not often that Morgan got to visit the more affluent side of town. She lived pretty far from here, and the people who did live here were wealthy enough to keep the cameras away from their neighborhood. While she wasn't thrilled about this assignment, she couldn't help but gawp at the mini-mansions, and luxury restaurants that lined the streets.

   Still, all the money and lawyers in the world couldn't keep out the common cold. Almost every face she could spot from the van, was adorned with a red nose, or a tissue pressed tightly against it. Morgan shifted uncomfortably in her seat, as she turned her head towards her phone. She was really starting to regret this.

   After a short drive, in which Molly had to negotiate with an incredibly congested toll-booth operator, the van pulled up outside the district's medical center. Derek scrambled out of the van to get the equipment ready, while Morgan and Molly went inside to meet the nurse they were going to be interviewing.

   "Hey," Morgan said approaching the receptionist at the front desk, who was busy scribbling some notes into a pad. "Morgan Winters, I'm with GLNS news. This is Molly, I was told you both spoke on the phone about an interview?"

   The receptionist looked up from her notepad and something instantly struck Morgan about her appearance. The long, wavy red hair, Morgan had already noticed from a distance. The bright blue eyes were distinctive but didn't immediately catch her notice. No, Morgan's attention was right away drawn to the sore, red rim that ran around the woman's nostrils, that was accentuated by the sudden and thick sniffle she gave.

   "One moment..." she muttered, barely managing those precious m's and n's that would have lent clarity to what she said. She casually reached over a small PA system on her desk. "Ndurse Halloway? GLNS are here" she muttered, or something to that effect, at least. Some tinny, staticky voice gave a robotic reply, and the receptionist looked back up to Morgan. "Just take a seat with the oh-others... ih-ISHIEW!"

   Morgan was grateful that the receptionist was able to grab a tissue. Still, she would have liked it all the more if the receptionist had actually managed to bring it to her nose, some time before letting out the surprising sneeze.

   "Ugh... 'scuse mbe" she mumbled, using the barely touched tissue to blow her already sore nose. "Was the last one standing up until I came in this m-mordi-ih...it'SHIEW!" she sneezed again, clearly an aftershock from the previous sneeze, but this time, thankfully, with the tissue ready to catch it.

   'Last one standing...' Morgan mentally repeated with a degree of exasperation, before directing Molly to sit beside her in the waiting room.

   "We better make this quick, alright? I'm already regretting every second of this..." she whispered to her assistant, as the woman beside her, blew her nose for the fourteenth time. "Why, what's wrong?" she asked "What do you mean, what's wrong? This place is gross. I feel gross. I want to go back to the office, where it's... I mean still gross, but less gross than this" "Oh, hush. Don't worry about it, it's just a quick interview, bit of filming of... doctor-y things, and we can do the V/O back at the studio" "I don't know how you can be so calm about this" Morgan snapped, as the man next to Molly launched into a coughing fit. Molly simply shrugged. "I'm not bothered. I had my flu shot" she said, confidently. "Do flu shots protect against colds?" asked Morgan Molly paused for a moment. "I mean, yeah, of course, they do. They're basically the same thing. Wouldn't be much point in a flu vaccine if you're just going to get a cold anyway, surely!"

   Morgan was skeptical, but before she could open her mouth to object, she heard her name called from the reception.

   "Ms. Widters?" the receptionist asked, holding a tissue to her nose as she spoke. "Ndurse Halloway will see you both dow..." she managed, before sneezing three more times into the tissue. As she pulled it away, Morgan winced at how sore and red her nose was starting to look. At that point, Morgan realized that there was nothing she could do to protect herself. From the moment she walked into the health center, she was a dead woman walking.

[tsarinastorm]

Season 7-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 1

This is mostly a Sackler/Reader centric fic, but this is the development I would have liked to see in a Girls Season 7.

Words:3.9K

Rating: Explicit/Mature

               You haven’t even arrived at this “party” yet and you already regret agreeing to show up. You begin to think of an excuse: you have a migraine, you have a writing deadline, some other dire situation that requires your immediate attention has occurred. Before you’re able to settle on one excuse, you receive a text from Hannah telling you that the party is in the back room of the bar, and saying that she’s so excited that you’re going to meet her friends.

               You had met Hannah in a writing group, the two of you bonded over the shared habit of bringing snacks to the meetings, to the annoyance of the other group members. She was one of your first and only friends in the city. You have some friends from undergrad and grad school who live in the city, but they were often busy with their own careers and love lives. You couldn’t help but find meeting people in this city of 8 million to be overwhelming. Mostly, you didn’t know how you make real friendships with people who you’d only see occasionally, or where to find people who shared your interests and hobbies.

               You moved to the city six months ago and settled into a classic style apartment in Soho. The apartment was a little bigger than you needed but was a steal because it was being sold by a couple who was in the middle of a divorce and wanted to screw the other over. You’ve authored several books ranging from modern fiction, horror, and a crime/thriller series, which had recently been picked up by a streaming service for a television show. You made enough to make it in New York, but you did some ghostwriting on the side to supplement since you invested your earnings in the apartment. You didn’t feel like you belonged in New York yet, perhaps you’ll be always be the same small town girl no matter how long you’re in the city.

You talked yourself into going to the party because you needed more friends and needed to enjoy the city. Plus, it was to celebrate Hannah’s new article being published. As a fellow writer you understood the struggles to get published and the triumph when you finally do get published. So you put on a little black dress that was neither too dressy nor too casual, told her you’d be there in a few minutes, and headed on the train to Brooklyn. You then grab a cab and head towards Hannah’s party.

               Your cab pulls up around the front, and you make your way into the bar. You’ve figured out that if you feel uncomfortable, you can get a few free drinks and then head out, no big deal. There are signs that point towards the Horvath Party, you casually walk, following the signs until you see Hannah in one of the rooms. Hannah waves and motions for you come towards her.

“Hey, Y/N! I’m so happy you could make it! I’m sure you’ll have a great time and I know you’ll get along with my friends.”

“Thanks for inviting me, Hannah. Congrats again on getting your piece published. It’s always worth the work in the end. Where’s Grover?” You ask as you see several people coming up to you and Hannah. Hannah answers as she hugs an excited brunette who just walked in, “Grover is with the sitter tonight. His Mommy needed a break. But I am texting every half-hour to make sure he’s alright.”

“You deserve a night off, I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” You say as the brunette turns to you. Hannah gestures between the two of you and the other girl as she begins the introductions.

“Y/N, this is my friend Shoshanna, or Shosh for short. Shosh, this is Y/N, the friend I told you about from my writing group.”

               Shosh hugs you and says, “Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Hannah has told us so much about you and I’ve read you’re books. They’re good, like, really good. I don’t even typically like horror, but I liked yours.”

“Thank you so much! I’ve heard a lot about you too! I love your outfit.”

“The code word is apple for free drinks. But keep it quiet so people don’t take our free drinks. We didn’t pay for everyone.” Hannah adds as she goes to greet another person.

               You and Shosh have spent the last forty-minutes talking about fashion, and travel. Now she was happily giving you the “appropriate” details of her honeymoon. Shosh was super nice and easy to talk to, no wonder she had been friends with Hannah for so long.  When you came back from the bar with your vodka soda, Hannah was talking to another brunette, one less excited than Shosh.

“Marnie, this is Y/N from my writing group. Y/N this is my best friend Marnie.”

“You’re the successful singer/song-writer, right?”

“Yes, only somewhat successful, but yes. By the way, I love your dress, Y/N!”

“I think its super cool that you can sing and put words to music. I have no musical talent whatsoever.”

“Really? You’re such a good writer. How long have you been in the city?”

“Only six months so I’m still figuring it all out.”

“We can totally show you where the best places are, and what to do.” Shosh adds excitedly.

“We should all hang out together sometime. We’re all young, attractive, successful women who should support each other.” Marnie says as she begins telling you the best places to shop, to eat, and to hang out.

“I appreciate it, thank you. I definitely we should hang out. Do you guys ever do brunch?”

“Yeah, I know this place that has the best mimosas.” Marnie says, then Shosh quickly adds, “We should totally go tomorrow morning, you know to help us recover from tonight.”

“Tomorrow would work for me.”

“I’m making the reservation now.” Marnie says while she types into her phone.

“That sounds great, I’m looking forward to it.  Who can turn down a good mimosa,” You say as you notice a very attractive man walk into the room, while the trio of friends continue to chatter amongst themselves. He’s tall with dark, wavy hair and broad shoulders. You immediately lock eyes with him, and smile, he smiles back. You then realize that you’ve totally zoned out of the conversation and finished your drink in record time. So much for playing it cool.

“I need another drink, I’ll be back.”

               ***********************************************************************

               Adam makes his way into the room. He doesn’t know why he’s even there. He and Hannah have been over for some time, and yeah, they were “friends” but why was here when he can’t stand her other friends. He had changed so much since the last time he was subjected to Hannah’s friends, would it be different this time? At least this time, he was free of Jessa that should keep the rest of them from being too hostile. And now, he had a successful run in a production of Machination at St. Anne’s, which lead to the casting director giving him the lead in an adaptation of The Beautiful and The Damned. He had a number of auditions coming up, even a few for Broadway again. He also has a theater friend who wants to turn his short film into a stage play. For the first time in a long time, his life was coming together not falling apart. Except for his love life, as always. He had ended the romantic relationship with Jessa not long after returning to her after being rejected by Hannah. He realized he was looking for something more, something he hadn’t had with Jessa, and something he hadn’t had with Hannah either. But Jessa still comes around, she seems determined not to let him go. So he lets Jessa stay sometimes, because she is a good fuck and he doesn’t have time to find another fuck buddy.

               Then he sees her. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and she looks amazing in that little black dress. Though he’s sure she’d look even better out of that little black dress. Down boy, he thinks to himself, he has to save that for later. But now, be cool. Her eyes lock with his, and she smiles at him. He can’t help but smile back.

“Hey Adam! Good to see you here,” Adam turns and sees the voice behind the comment that takes him out of his trance. It’s Ray and he’s definitely looking at her too. Adam doesn’t like the idea of Ray talking to his woman, or looking at his woman, even if she’s not his woman yet. She will be, he’ll see to that.

“Hey Ray, nice to see you too,” Adam manages to sound normal, not too eager or irritated. He looks for her again, but she’s gone. Oh no, she couldn’t have left yet. Not before he had got her number. He’s so desperate in his search for her, that he doesn’t even notice that Ray’s walked away and Hannah has come up beside him.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Hannah says as she pulls him into an awkward hug. He hugs her back but his eyes still look through the room for his woman. Then he spots her, over at the bar. Now, he just has to get over to her.

“So this is none of my business, but are you and Jessa still a thing?” Of course, Hannah goes straight to the question he doesn’t want to answer, and takes the conversation straight to the person he’d prefer not to think about. He finally answers in the best way he knows how.

“There is no relationship but we still sometimes see each other.”

“You still see each other. I’m not stupid, I know what that means, and it means you still fuck.” Hannah puts her hands on her hips, clearly judging him before continuing, “Does that make you happy? Because believe it or not, you deserve to be happy too.”

               He keeps his eyes on her, his her. Hannah’s talking again before her previous statement has a chance to really sink in.

“By the way, that woman you’re ogling is Y/N, my friend from my writing group. She’s a writer like me. But a very successful one. You should go talk to her. I can’t guarantee that you’re her type, or that she won’t throw her drink on you, but go for it.”

“Really? You sure? She is your friend.” Adam says even though his mind is already made up. He is going to talk to her whether Hannah accepts it or not. But it would be better if Hannah does accept it. He doesn’t want another cold war like the one that happened when he and Jessa hooked up.

“I’m sure. I think she’d be good for you, and that you two might work.” Hannah says and gives him a genuine smile. She then pushes him in the direction of the bar.

                  You order a Malibu Bay Breeze, made up of Malibu rum, cranberry juice, and pineapple juice. Normally that’s the drink you prefer but the vodka soda is slightly better to stave off dehydration and hangover. But now, you feel nervous because you see him make his way towards you and you need the comfort of your favorite drink. He sits down beside you and you turn to look at him.

“Hello, stranger. You know when I’m in a place like this, I can’t help but I feel like I’m in a bad, modern adaptation of a Fitzgerald novel. I’m Y/N”

“Hello beautiful stranger, I’m Adam. I agree, I feel like that at least once a day since I’ve been in New York. But I do find it to be missing Fitzgerald’s wit and introspection. I was worried you managed to sneak out before I got to talk to you.”

“I’m glad you understood the reference, you’d be amazed at the number of people who don’t. Most of them look at me like I have three heads. I’m not going anywhere for a while, I just made my way over to the bar. Do you want a drink? If you’re nice, maybe it’ll even be on me.”

“A seltzer water. I have a degree in comp lit and I’m actor who does mostly stage so I have to understand literary comments. I actually just finished a part in an adaptation of The Beautiful and the Damned”

“Ha, well you know what they say about actors. I’m a writer. Okay, now I have a question: if you could work with any playwright, living or dead, who would it be?” You ask him with a smile on your face. You’re can’t hide your genuine curiosity. He seems like an intellectual guy, well-read, artistic, and clearly a bit offbeat. Those things make you to know his answer.

“Chekhov, he was a truly master of theater. Or Arthur Miller.” He says, confidently taking a swig of his seltzer water, “does that answer suit you?”

“It does. I prefer the Russian greats.  So how do you know Hannah?”

“I’ve known Hannah for years. What about you?” he says the last part in a singsong voice. You can’t help but laugh at his goofy behavior.

“Hannah and I are in the same writing group. She’s one of the first friends I’ve made in the city.”

               You spend the next hour or so (maybe it was longer, you lost track of time) talking about your favorite writers, movies, and awkward moments. Turns out, you have pretty much the same taste in books and film, and you find your eyes tearing up from laughter at some of his stories. His stories are accompanied by full body movements and voice changes, of course. Adam talks about his family, you learn he has a niece that he calls Sample because she’s sample-sized and she was named after his exes. He teases you for being an only child. You can’t remember the last time you enjoyed someone’s company this much. He was interesting, intense, and slightly strange. Nothing at all like your type, and maybe that’s why you liked him. Or maybe it was because you felt he’d give the deep connection and passion you’d always craved. You notice he’s still only drinking seltzer, and you’re on your fourth drink.

“Are you sure you don’t want a real drink? Or are you being a DD?”

“I actually don’t drink. I’ve had a drinking problem in the past so I completely avoid it, and I still go to AA.”

“I’m glad you saw you had a problem and got help. That’s a hard thing to do.” You tell him as you reach out and gently put your hand on his forearm. He looks deep into your eyes, and leans into your touch.

“How long have you been sober?”

“10 years. I started going to AA when I was seventeen.” He says and his rich amber eyes look sad. He looks like he expects you to reject him.

“Well, I’m sorry that it started so early. If you ever need somebody to talk to, here, I’ll give you my number” you say and hold out your hand for his phone. He places it in your hand and he chuckles.

“I am the worst person with technology and shit. I’m not the same over the phone. It took me so fucking long to even get an iphone.”

“That’s okay. You’re probably better off without it anyway.” You smile and he smiles back. He puts his hand on your knee. You notice that 1.) his hand is freaking huge, so that means his dick must be big too, and 2.) You really like him touching you, his hand is hot on your cool skin. You feel a physical spark in your lower stomach that you haven’t felt in a long time: pure sexual attraction. You think you could easily take him home tonight, actually that looks like that’s where this is headed. He leans in towards your face, you can’t tell if he’s going to whisper something in your ear, or if he’s going to kiss you. You feel yourself leaning in, drawn like a moth to the light.

               The moment is ruined when a blonde woman throws her arms around his neck, kisses him on the cheek, and positions herself so she’s practically sitting in his lap. She turns to look at you, and you know you must look shocked because it takes you a minute to acknowledge that she’s even speaking. And you notice that she has a British accent.

“Adam, who’s your friend?” She says in a voice that must be her attempt to be sultry. Adam looks uncomfortable and shifts so she’s no longer in his lap, and he’s not even touching her.

“This is Y/N. She’s an author, a good author who’s wrote bestsellers.”

“I’m Jessa, are you friends with Hannah?” the British blonde asks you and you find her gaze very uncomfortable. You take a sip of your drink before answering.

“Yes, I know her from my writing group.”

“Well then, you should know all about me and Adam. He’s the ex, and I’m the friend who stole him. We’re also the ones who made the movie. I’m sure she’s wrote a lot about us.” Jessa says all of that with a smug smile, clearly proud of the mess she’s just created.

“Oh you’re the Adam? The Adam who moved in another girlfriend while she was in Iowa, who dated her friend, didn’t tell her, and then made a movie basically mocking your relationship?!” You practically yell. What the hell is wrong with these people? Why are they all still around each other?

“That’s him. And that’s us.” Jessa says as she nods. You see red. What they did to Hannah was wrong, and here they are acting like it’s nothing. Jessa’s proud of it. And Adam lied to you about who he was knowing you were a friend of Hannah’s. You had a friend who hooked up with your ex, and it stung. Badly. And that was only a one-time hook up, you could only imagine if it had been a full-fledged relationship.

“Where I come from, you tell people the truth, so I’m going to tell you both the truth. You’re both shitty people for doing that to Hannah and acting like it’s nothing.” You say before grabbing your bag and standing up.

“And I hope I never see either of you again. You must deserve each other.”

               Whatever you had felt towards Adam a few minutes ago had utterly dissipated now. You could never be with someone who did all of that to his ex. If he did it to Hannah, he’d likely do it to you, you remind yourself. Additionally, Hannah was your friend, maybe not a best friend, but still a friend and you refused to do that to her. You storm off from the bar, hopefully to find someone who also thinks this situation makes zero sense. You see Shosh and Marnie standing near the stage and you join them. Marnie speaks first,

“I see you had a great conversation with our local gruesome twosome.”

“That may be one of the most fucked up experiences of my life. Or am I crazy?” You say trying to figure out if you’re over-reacting or not.

“No, that is a totally weird situation.” Shosh says and it makes you feel better.

Then you see a man at the bar who looks familiar, it takes a second for you to recognize him. You can feel the blood run from your face. You realize he’s a guy you hooked up with when you first moved to New York. What was his name? You were so intoxicated that night, you can’t even remember his name, only that it started with a B, and you would have preferred him to remain one of your secrets. Especially when you think of everything that happened a few weeks after the hookup. You watch him even though you don’t want to, and you notice that he is wearing a wedding band. That’s just great. He’s married. You hooked up with a married man, or at the very least he would have had to be engaged then.  You feel your face getting hot, and you go outside to get some air. You bump into Hannah.

“Y/N? Are you alright? You looked really freaked out?”

“Yeah, it’s just I ran into one of my drunk one-night-stands. And he’s married. It just really bothers me.”

“Well, it’s okay. You’ll probably never see him again. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know he was married.” Hannah says while rubbing your arms in an effort to calm you. You give her a hug and you head home.

You see Adam and Jessa in the street fighting about something and you turn your head so you can get away without either of them noticing you.

********************************************************************************

You go to brunch with Hannah, Shosh, and Marnie the next day. You’d been so busy adjusting to the city, you had forgot how much you missed your girlfriends back home. The brunch was just what you needed and you learned some gossip. Hannah says that she has a date coming up. Marnie makes it clear after her track record, she’s happy being single for a while. Shosh, of course, gushes over her husband. You even meet Ray, who owns a local coffee place. However, then you’re filled in on his background with Shosh and Marnie. You were finally feeling like you had now friends in the city, and you were pleased with that. But you couldn’t stop thinking Adam, even though you knew you shouldn’t

You’re back in your apartment, looking for something to do. You then decide to look up Adam Sackler. You scroll through the glowing reviews of his latest plays. Then you come across the movie, Disclosure. You debate whether or not to watch it. You give into your curiosity after a few minutes of debate, and hit play. You watch Adam, the real Adam not an actor playing Adam, spank the actress. Again and again. You should not find it as hot as you do. You can feel yourself getting turned on. You should turn off the movie, and go for a run to clear your mind or a cold shower.

But you give in to your body as your hand sneaks into your pants. Your fingers part your folds before settling on your clit. You begin rubbing in circles. That’s not enough, you need it faster, harder. You start adding more pressure and quicken your pace. You start to imagine that your hands are Adam’s hands. It’s not long before you feel your climax building. You moan as you come hard.

When you come back to reality, you realize that you should feel guilty for touching yourself to a movie starring your friend’s ex-boyfriend about their relationship. However, you manage console yourself by reminding yourself that you can touch yourself as long as you don’t cross the physical line with Adam himself, though you know you’ll dream about him touching you tonight.

[ineverhaveanynormalfans]

Undisclosed - Chapter 2

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Warnings: Canon divergent, canon rewrite, hints of consentual non-monogomy, minor mentions of sexually explicit content.

Pairing/s: Emily Prentiss x Dr Olivia Prentiss (OFC), Spencer Reid x Olivia Prentiss x Emily Prentiss

Authors Note:

Spencers POV from the restaurant and a continuation of the dinner.

Word count: 1589

AO3

The woman following Emily back into the restaurant captured Spencer’s attention immediately. Part of it was the obvious bond between the two, Spencer could see the elevated heart rate at Emily’s throat and the wide pupils and broad smile evident on the new woman’s face showed a deep level of affection possibly love. She was shorter than Emily’s 5”8 even with the high wedge boots she was wearing, he estimated her to stand around 5”3 in bare feet. Wavy brown hair fell to her shoulders and her eyes were the brightest green he had ever seen on an actual human being. Her figure was closer to Penelope’s than Emily or JJs slim physiques but her style of dress wasn’t anything near as exuberant as the tech genius. She was wearing close-fitting jeans and a light grey sweater with a faded logo and the bag she was carrying looked to be a carry on for travelling. He had just noticed the matching rings they were both wearing when those unique green eyes met his and her smile shone brighter. He beamed at Emily’s wife and waved in his signature awkward style which seemed to delight her if the sweet peal of laughter was any indication. JJ reached over and squeezed his arm as she got up to go and hug the new arrival and Spencer followed, holding back a little as the team crowded in to give their congratulations and welcomes.

Between the rush of questions from Penelope and Rossi’s toast, he didn’t manage more than a verbal congratulations and a wave over heads. Emily had winked at him, she knew he would welcome Olivia when they could get a quiet minute so he sat back down beside JJ and the conversations began again. He had just cut short an explanation of the benefits of spices in a healthy diet at a look from JJ when people started switching seats to talk to others and Olivia dropped into the seat beside him. ‘Hi,’ she beamed, mirroring his wave from earlier instead of reaching to shake his hand. Emily must have told her about his aversion to bodily contact with strangers and his hand seemed to take on a life of its own, mirroring her movement. She spoke with a softly lilting accent, not English, maybe Scottish or Irish. It took him a moment to realise she had asked him a question, he had been lulled in by her voice. ‘I’m sorry I got distracted trying to place your accent.’ He could feel his cheeks flaming but Olivia laughed kindly and put him at ease, an unusual feeling for him with someone so new.

‘Go on then Dr, what’s your guess?’ Spencer was battling against being swept away in her warm smile, and focused on the few linguistic tells he had heard so far. ‘English is your first language and the tempo suggests northern British isles, although Southern Ireland could be a distinct possibility also. You’ve spent time in London, your natural accent is masked slightly and you seem to be conscious of slowing down your natural speech rhythms.’ She was nodding along, not giving him much feedback and he became aware that the rest of the table was watching them. His eyes flickered to Emily who was sitting back in a chair opposite them, a glass of wine in hand, watching their interaction with interest.

‘I think Ireland for sure, but I can’t tell what part, moved around a lot maybe?’ Tara guessed from beside Emily and that set everyone else off. Ireland was the consensus, and Olivia was giving nothing away, merely smiling and nodding interestedly as the profilers worked. Eventually, all eyes returned to Spencer who had yet to give a final answer. Emily was watching her wife and grinning widely, clearly loving the banter. ‘She’s not gonna give you any more hints Spence, I’ve played poker with her, she won’t break.’ Olivias cheeks flushed and Emily’s followed, there was a story there but Spencer would pursue that another night. ‘Northern Ireland, possibly near the border with the Republic but along the west instead of the south.’ Her eyes widened with surprise and she laughed vibrantly. ‘Bravo Dr Reid, that’s the best guess anyone’s ever given. I’m from a wee village between Derry and Donegal.’ Her true lilt shone through now and there was a chorus of ahhh and now I hear it's from around the group.

Conversations struck up again and a fresh round of drinks was ordered before Spencer spoke, softly enough to reach only Olivia's ears. ‘Do I get a prize for guessing correctly?’ His heart thumped so violently in his chest he was sure she must hear it as he did his best to sit back casually and await her response. To any onlooker, this move could seem bold, insensitive even and more definitely inappropriate but Spencer hadn’t only been placing Olivia's accent while he studied her over dinner. The dynamic between her and Emily was rooted in love, yes but it was more complex too. The way they moved, in constant awareness of the other, spoke to a different kind of relationship and Spencer was pretty sure he knew it’s nature. Before Emily had faked her death to chase down Ian Doyle they had spent a few evenings and weekends together, something Spencer was sure nobody in the BAU, not even Jennifer, knew about. Their relationship, while strengthened by friendship, was purely sexual and Emily had taught him a great deal about alternative sexualities and kinks. On her visits back here there had been a few conversations after many drinks in which Emily had admitted to having a similar dynamic with a new partner, one she was convinced he would click with too. He’d been intrigued ever since and had not missed the slight inflexions of Emily’s words when she spoke to him over the last few days.

If he wasn’t mistaken, and he rarely was, Olivias attentions on him when they walked in were as appraising as he had been. The friendly challenge to guess her birthplace had practically confirmed it, she kept his eye contact for longer than a true submissive but she did always break it first and looked to Emily for her cues. Now, with play firmly in her hands, he watched her as she carefully chose her next move. ‘That’s not for me to decide Dr Reid.’ Her voice was little above a whisper but its impact was vast. Arousal flooded his body causing his cock to chub up in his boxers and he shifted slightly to cross his legs and his it. Across the table, Emily was smiling in a way that suggested she knew exactly what was going on between them. The game was most certainly on he thought and grinned to Olivia as he willed his blood flow to return to normal. It was at this rare moment of happiness and hope that Spencer felt his phone vibrate in his jacket. Extracting it and seeing the Vegas area code brought him crashing down faster than a cold shower. Grimacing apologetically he excused himself to Olivia and slid his thumb across the screen to attempt to deal with his mother’s latest downwards spiral.

By the time he had talked her down and ensured she was safe the rest of the BAU was exiting the restaurant. Hotch passed Spencer his satchel and they exchanged small nods and tight smiles, neither wishing to draw attention to Spencers problem. A series of goodbye hugs and promises to have brunch the next time they were Stateside floated in the cool night air and suddenly Olivia was standing in front of Spencer. His eyes had been downcast, looking at nothing in particular but her height put her squarely in his line of sight. Her face was perhaps the most lovely thing he thought he had ever seen and this broke his heart a little more but with her warm smile and sparkling green eyes focused just on him he pushed all of those thoughts aside. ‘It’s been lovely to meet you Olivia. You and Emily seem very happy together.’ The short brunette grinned and looked over her shoulder to where her wife was making fervent promises to Penelope that it wouldn’t be years before they were back.

‘She’ll do.’ Olivia said jokingly, eliciting a genuine laugh from him. ‘Your prize good doctor.’ She was holding out a business card which Spencer took, turning it over in his hands. The front contained only her name, an email and a work phone number. Noting the lack of job title Spence flipped it over and saw a mobile number handwritten across the back. He looked up at her, searching her face with curiosity. ‘Thank you? I’m not sure what you want me to do with this.’ She chuckled and stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his forearm and leaning up on her tiptoes to place a kiss to his cheek. Lingering there, she spoke so softly the drumming of his heart almost eclipsed it. ‘That’s your next guessing game. Gimme a call, you can gather clues. I’ll give you a virtual Whovian tour.’ She stepped back, giving him the briefest wink that stopped his heart entirely and gave Garcia a last hug before getting into the taxi with Emily and driving away. Pocketing the card and smiling to himself Spencer clambered into the next one with JJ, Hotch and Tara to head home, the tiniest spark of hope glimmering in his melancholy heart.

[survivingthejungle]

Little Lies; tommy shelby

or; tommy shelby gets new neighbors from America. they have a pretty daughter.

“And on Christmas Day it’ll be just you and Charlie.”

“And the horse. And the neighbors, I’m sure.”

“The neighbors?”

“New family. Americans. moved into the little cottage down the road; I’m sure they’ll like to spend their first Christmas away from home with others.”

“Alright, fine. So you invite the Americans. You invite a bunch of Yankee strangers and not your own family.”

“Yes, Lizzie, it seems so.”

—

Dear Mr. and Mrs. (Y/L/N),

I’d like to formally invite you and your family to spend Christmas with us just down the road. I’m sure spending the holidays in a brand new country for the first time isn’t a simple transition, so you’re all more than welcome to spend it with us Shelbys.

-Thomas Shelby

The handwriting was strikingly elegant in spite of the fact that it was written by a man—men so often have messy or illegible handwriting. “Mama,” you called to the kitchen while you were standing in the doorway. ”You know the Shelbys?”

“The who, hun?”

“Shelbys. Down the road. They invited us to Christmas with them.”

“Oh, how sweet!” your mother exclaimed, coming to the doorway to meet you. “I ought to bring something.”

“I doubt you’ll have to, mom, have you seen that house? Something tells me they’ll have plenty of food.”

Your mother scoffed at your blatant assumption of their wealth. “It’s called being courteous, (Y/N), something I clearly failed to instill in you.”

You shrugged it off. “Should I write back? Say we’ll go?”

“Yeah; why don’t you go ahead and do that.”

Dear Mr. Shelby,

Thank you so much for inviting my family and I to spend Christmas with you! We are flattered by your warm invitation and are much looking forward to meeting you and your family.

-(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

With a quick swipe of your tongue and an address promptly scribbled on, the RSVP was sent back.

—

The fated day finally rolled around and you couldn’t help but feel a pit of dread in your stomach. What if the Shelbys actually end up hating us? What if it’s just a bunch of old people and no one my age? Will they judge us for not having as much money as them? As the thoughts all ran through your brain like the stream in your backyard, you continued your routine of getting dressed and brushing your hair. It was significantly longer that the current fashion demanded, but you were never one to follow societal norms. It rested at about back-length, whereas any other woman of the day would be more likely to be sporting something close to her chin. Not caring much about the style of your hair, you turned to your closet to discern what you were going to wear. After a few bits of input from your mother and father, you decided on a simple blue dress you had bought a few months prior. It was casual, but not too casual; elegant, but not too lavish.

It was nearly 2 o’clock in the afternoon when someone came knocking on your door. Your mother was busy making a trayful of baked goods in the kitchen and your father was out back feeding the hens and collecting eggs. “(Y/N), dear, would you get that?” you mother called.

“Yes, mom,” you yelled back, barreling down the steps and down the short entryway until you reached the front door.

And nearly the moment you had opened it up you saw the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on in your entire life. Please, God, don’t tell me that’s our neighbor, you prayed.

The man smiled politely down at you. “Ah, so you’re our new neighbors,” the man spoke, his thick Birmingham accent (the one you’d been most exposed to since your move) hovering over every word. “Pleasure to meet you, love, I’m Tommy Shelby.” He stuck out his hand to you and shook it. In the short amount time it took you to become absolutely starstruck, your mother had left the kitchen—hands clean— and your father had just come back inside and the four of you gathered in the hallway, Tommy still standing outside.

“Please, Mr. Shelby, come inside! It’s freezing out there.” He obliged and stepped through the threshold, and you shut the door behind him.

“Mr. Shelby, we’re so honored that you thought to invite us to dinner tonight,” your mother gushed, shaking his hand emphatically. “Really, when we got your letter I told my family how lucky we were to have moved in down the street from such welcoming people.” Mr. Shelby gave your mother a small smile and you felt your heart stop. Oh, no. This is bad.

“We’re glad to have you all the way from across the pond,” he responded. “Hope you’ve found Warwickshire to your liking.”

“Oh, it’s great,” your father piped up, putting a hand on your mother’s shoulder. “Nice to meet ya, sir,” he said, shaking Mr. Shelby’s hand as well.

“Please, call me Tommy,” he responded warmly.

It was obvious that this man was a significant number of years older than you, being only 19. While the thought of having a relationship with a 40-something year-old man had certainly never been a goal of yours before, you couldn’t help but wonder about it now. “Well,” he began, addressing the three of you, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m afraid we’ve had to cancel Christmas dinner. A problem’s come up in the family; I hope you can forgive me.”

Your mother and father were less concerned about not having dinner and more about the state of your mysterious neighbor’s family. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry to hear that! Really, Mr. Shelby, no need to apologize. Family always comes first; of course we understand.” Your father nodded his head in agreement. “I only hope we can manage to have you over for dinner some other night, to repay you for your hospitality.”

Mr. Shelby politely declined your mother’s offer. “Really, Mrs. (Y/L/N), it won’t be necessary. You don’t want me burdening you with another mouth to feed.”

“Mr. Shelby, we insist,” your father pushed. “Bring your family, too; the more the merrier. It’ll be good for us to meet some new faces, anyways. You name a date and we’ll get it all set up.”

Before you knew it, the issue of dinner rescheduling was resolved and Mr. Shelby was on his way. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Shelby-”

“Please, I insist, you can call me Tommy. We are neighbors, after all,” he assured your mother.

“Tommy,” she smiled, correcting herself, “We really can't thank you enough for your hospitality. We’re looking forward to meeting the rest of the clan.”

With your mother satiated, he moved on to bid farewell to your father. “You’ve got a lovely family, Mr. (Y/L/N).”

“Thank you much, sir,” he responded, firmly shaking Tommy’s hand. Your mother and father left the hallway to return to their previous activities, leaving the two of you all alone.

And then it was down to you. “Merry Christmas, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he stated.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Shelby. It was wonderful meeting you.”

“Please, really, no need for formality. Call me Tommy, I’m your neighbor.”

“Alright,” you agreed, “But only if you call me (Y/N). Deal?” you stuck your hand out.

He shook it. “Deal.”

“You get home safe,” you reminded him. Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his lips and softly kissed it. Holy shit, you panicked, but managed to keep your true reaction hidden. Bidding him goodbye once more you turned on your heel after shutting the door behind him, sprinting back upstairs to your room.

—

Charlotte,

I never thought that moving across the ocean to another country could be so terrible.

Don’t misunderstand- it’s beautiful here, and so quiet and peaceful, and the people are all so obliging.

But I think I’m in love with our neighbor, and I also think he’s at least a 40 year old man. He has a son and everything, although I’m pretty sure his wife died.

On Christmas day, he stopped by the house to talk to my parents and I and welcome us to the country. When he left, he kissed my hand.

Is that weird? Or did I just misunderstand some British custom?

Send help! I miss you dearly and look forward to seeing you again soon.

-(Y/N)

Three days had passed since the ‘incident’. You sealed the letter to your best friend back in the States and threw on your coat, making your way down to the nearest post office. About halfway down the dirt road that led into the more populated village, you heard a car coming behind you. You stepped off onto the patch of grass on the side of the road, careful to not be in the way of the oncoming vehicle; but it never passed you. Instead, it caught up to you and stopped, so you stopped as well to look at who was driving it.

And, of course, it was the one and only Tommy Shelby. “(Y/N),” he called to you, “Where are you headed? You’ll freeze out there, do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

“Oh, I’m fine Mr. Shelby—”

“Tommy, (Y/N), please.”

“Tommy. Sorry. I don’t need a ride, but thank you for the offer! I’m just headed down to the post office.”

“Nonsense, that’s too far away for you to be walking. Get in, I’ll take you there. I’m headed into town meself.” Suddenly acutely aware of the sharp cold pricking at your face and hands, you obliged and stepped up into his car. He held a hand out to help balance you as you got yourself settled and shut the door. He was smoking, as you’d assumed was his habit. Once he began driving again, he was the first to break the silence. “How ‘ave you and your family been?”

“We’re just alright,” you smiled, “My mom’s so happy here. She loves all the people; says they’re the nicest she’s ever met.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t mean me,” he chuckled. “I’m just the mean old man down the road.”

“No, not at all!” you exclaimed. “She thinks you’re wonderful.”

“Ah, is that so? And what about you?” he asked.

“What about me?” you responded, not sure you understood his question.

“How are you liking it here? Any new friends, any boyfriends?”

“No, not at all,” you giggled, blushing slightly. “I haven’t really met anyone new yet.”

“Well, you’re a pretty girl,” he said offhandedly. If you were paying closer attention you would’ve caught the slight sigh that passed his lips. “You’ll have all the boys chasing after you in no time.”

“I hope not,” you scoffed. “Boys are silly and immature. I’m perfectly content all by myself.”

He took his eyes off of the road for just a moment to glance at you, an unreadable expression on his soft features. “You’re a smart girl,” he praised, “Got a good head on your shoulders. Don’t let anyone change that.” Thankfully, before you had to muster up a half-hearted reply, the car came to a stop. You had reached the post office. “Go on,” he prompted, “I’ll wait up for you.”

“Really, Mr. Sh—Tommy,” you caught yourself, “You don’t have to wait for me, I know you’re a busy man.”

“(Y/N), if it had been a problem, I wouldn’t have given you a ride, would I?” He gave you a knowing look.

“I..I guess not. I’ll be quick,” you promised, rushing inside. You dropped off your letter to Charlotte without having to wait in too unbearable a line, and scurried back outside to where Tommy was waiting for you to return. “Thank you again for doing this; I don’t know how to pay you back.”

“No need, sweetheart,” he nearly crooned, and you felt your heart swell and your throat close up. “Although I will have to take up your mum’s dinner offer soon.”

“Sounds perfect; we’re looking forward to it,” you smiled.

The car fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before Tommy spoke up again. “(Y/N), your family—you wouldn’t happen to be Italian, would you?”

An odd question, you thought, but nonetheless one you could easily answer. “Not to my knowledge, no,” you told him. “How come?”

“What business is your family in?”

“Business?” you questioned. “Uh, nothing, really. We had a farm back home; sold eggs, and milk, and livestock every once in awhile to make money. My parents have been saving up to move over here for years.”

“I see,” he mumbled, nodding and pondering your answers. “‘Ave you got any plans for the next hour or so?”

“Uh, no, I don’t,” you responded shyly. You weren’t going back in the direction of your house, but deeper into a town that you were unfamiliar with. Regardless of how attractive a man was, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be uncomfortable with him kidnapping you.

“I’ve got someone to check on at the hospital. Would you like to meet ‘em? It’ll only take a moment,” he assured you.

“Oh, sure!” you responded. “I’d love to go.”

—

It turned out that the person being checked on at the hospital was Tommy’s cousin, Michael; and he was in bad shape. “He got shot. Christmas day. Been waiting on ‘im to wake up ever since.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Tommy; that’s terrible. He got shot? How?”

Tommy took a deep breath and turned to face you. You were both back in the car now; not much use to sit at a comatic person’s bedside and wait God knows how long for them to wake up. The car was parked and the two of you were just having a heartfelt conversation with one another. “Listen, my family and I… we’ve gotten ourselves into a bit of trouble here and there. We managed to piss off an American and now he’s after us.”

You nodded. “That’s why you wanted to know if my family was Italian. If we were with them.” He agreed.

“Your- your mum and dad, they’re good country folks. I take it they’ve been farming their whole lives?” You nodded again. “I don’t think you’re the same as them,” he mused.

“I’m not,” you confirmed. “My parents are content living in that cottage for the rest of their lives… But that seems so boring to me. I want to go do something, I want to travel somewhere. Or at least do something different. I don’t want to be just another farm girl.”

“The world has plenty of those,” he agreed, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“What about you?” you wondered aloud. He glanced at you, urging you to continue. “I mean, do you want to keep ‘getting into trouble’?”

He scoffed. “Fuck, if only I could keep meself out of trouble. It seems to come looking for me nowadays.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So am I, (Y/N); so am I.” He’d started the car and was about to put it into gear when all of a sudden a couple of sharply dressed men came out from behind a corner, guns pointed directly at the car—directly at you and Tommy. He noticed them in the rearview mirror and immediately shoved you from your seat to the floor. “Fuck!” he yelled, at the same time the men began to shoot. You let out a scream, covering your head with your arms and curling yourself closer to the ground. You could hear Tommy grab something from the glove compartment, a gun, and begin shooting back at the men. There was a rapid exchange of gunfire for a moment, then suddenly—silence. Tommy let out a sigh of relief. His hand found its way to your head and brushed your hair back out of your face. “(Y/N), look at me— are you hurt?”

His face was stone cold and serious. You shook your head, and the rest of your body followed suit. You couldn’t stop shaking and your breathing was short and rapid. “Oh my God… Oh my God,” you whispered to yourself. He helped you back up on to your seat before pulling you close to him, head on his chest as he stroked your hair and spoke softly in your ear.

“Listen to me, you’re alright. Yeah? I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.” You couldn’t restrain it anymore; you let out a broken sob as the weight of what had just happened crashed into you like a freight train.

“What the fuck, Tommy!” you cried.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll never let that happen again, alright? I won’t let ‘em come after you because of me. Look at me.” You obeyed, tears in your eyes, and his heart broke once again. “That will never happen again. Do you understand me?” You nodded. He pulled you back to him and let you cry it out, smoothing down your hair while you held onto his jacket with white knuckles. If you had cared, you would have noticed him press a few kisses to the top of your head; having just been nearly killed, however, you didn’t care all that much.

You were out of tears in the next few moments, pulling yourself away and trying to regain every shred of dignity you had left. His hand stayed resting on your shoulder comfortingly while you wiped your tears away with your fingertips. “Oh my God,” you nearly chuckled, “This is not how I expected living in a new country would be.” He smiled at that, comforting you. He lifted a hand to wipe away a few remaining tears on your lashes, and lifted your chin with his knuckle.

“You gonna be alright?” he asked with piercing eyes.

“Yes. Yeah, I’ll be fine. I never want to get shot at again,” you said, more to yourself than to him, but he still chuckled lightly.

“You won’t, little bird, I promise.” He drove you back to your house in relative silence, suddenly hyper-aware of the surroundings. You made it back in one piece with only a shattered back windshield as proof of what had happened. Before you got out of the car, he stopped you. “I’ll come and check on you soon, yeah?” You accepted the offer. “Good girl. Be careful.”

With that you slid out through the passenger side door and opened the door to your house, Tommy only driving away after the door was shut and you were safe inside. “Hello, my darling,” you mother greeted you. She and your father were sitting in the living room, fireplace roaring. “Where have you been?”

“I sent a letter to Charlotte at the post office,” you explained hanging up your coat. “Mr. Shelby was headed somewhere in his car; he gave me a ride there and back.”

“Oh, what a nice man!” your mother gushed. “He really is a great guy. I hope he comes for dinner soon.”

“I think he will,” you assured her, “I mentioned it to him. He says he’s looking forward to it and we’ll get something worked out soon.” Your father hadn’t spoken a word yet, too busy reading the paper to listen to your conversation. “I’m gonna go upstairs and take a nap, mom; this weather has exhausted me.” With a swift farewell you tucked your shoes by the staircase and headed up to bed. Rather than sleeping in your day clothes, you threw on your pajamas and snuggled up under the covers, burying your head in the pillow and taking a deep breath.

As much as you tried to forget what had happened just half an hour before, you couldn’t; the more you tried, the more you remembered, and the more upset you became. A few uncontrollable tears slipped past your eyes as you cried quietly into the pillow; soon becoming too tired to keep your eyes open, you drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

[kalluun-patangaroa]

Suede

SKY magazine, December 1993

written by Simon Witter 

"HELLO! WHAT HAVE WE GOT HERE?!" asks Brett Anderson rhetorically, staring at the fluff he has just removed from his ear. "I haven't taken these earrings off for about nine years."

It may seem an incongruous moment to ask the 27-year-old indie pin-up about his personal style, but hey, that's the kind of guy I am. "Tatty," replies Brett with a wry smile. "I haven't been able to get out and go shopping."

Brett Anderson, frontman of Suede – the British pop sensation of 93 – is hotly rumoured to have a great dress sense. Today however, perched uncomfortably behind an executive desk at the central London HQ of his record company, his head inadvertently framed by a halo of Right Said Fred promotional balloons, he is sporting a navy blue jeans'n'top ensemble he accurately describes as "just anything". Brett has been telling me how he spends most of his time with people who work in shops or are unemployed – "real people, not in the business" – so I presume this boutique bonding provides a clue to his supposed, though temporarily non-evident, style savvy.

"Oh no," he gasps. "Not clothes shops! Most of my friends are in food shops. So I know a good bit of brie when I see it."

The thought of Brett Anderson having, at any point in his life, ever eaten food, conjures images of pigs flapping their trotters as they sail past this second floor window. But we press on with the personal style enquiry.

"I want to change it at the moment," he says. "I'm sick of wearing second-hand things. I used to have a grudge against new clothes because I don't like wearing things that another thousand people are wearing. It's nothing to do with being into clothes from years ago, or tatty clothes at all. I'm quite keen to toy around with my style until I eventually find something, to have clothes made for me. There's never anything, when I go out and look for clothes, that I really love. I've got quite a strong vision of what I want, which would be very, very well fitted things. I don't like baggy things. I like lots of ethnic looks. I really like the Spanish look, that sort of matador thing." By way of explanation, Brett strikes a pose, clicking imaginary castanets above his head. "I like that shape. Prince wears a really brilliant little thing sometimes. When I kept getting my bellybutton out, it was really a desire to achieve that shape more than anything, nothing to do with flaunting my navel."

It's well worth flashing your bellybutton while you still can, I assure him, a rueful hand on my own expanding waistline.

"Yep," he smiles. "Well I can't anymore. Not after that chinese last night."

In May of 1992 Suede released their first single, 'The Drowners'. They had already been on the cover of Melody Maker – before they had a record out – and would grace 18 other British magazine covers over the next year, including the cover of Q on just their second single. Their eponymous debut album, released last March, went straight to No. One in the charts and went on to win the Mercury Prize, and last autumn they released a full-length concert video Love & Poison. At this rate, it will be time for their memoirs by easter.

Within the bizarre, incestuous fishbowl of the British music media, Suede have become almost self-damagingly important. After a couple of wilderness years spent faffing about, finding their feet and being universally loathed, their overnight transformation into the most hyped band in the world was nothing short of miraculous. Yet it created impossibly high expectations of their music. A German friend told me how surprised he was, after long distance exposure to their media glare, to discover how average Suede sounded – a judgment that casual discovery of the first album would hardly have elicited. And while touring America, their support act the Cranberries famously outshone them by an enormous factor when it came to album sales. Yet phase one of Suede's career has been – or appeared to be – so extraordinary, that they are going to be hard-pressed to follow it up with anything similarly momentous.

For now, we have 'Stay Together', a new, epically long single. As a measure of Suede's magnitude in the reality-starved world of British indie pop, I am treated to an absurd preview of the track the day before meeting Brett. Before entering the listening room I am subjected to a bag search to check – I kid you not! – that I'm not carrying a concealed tape recorder.

In LA, the world capital of muso control freakism, I was played U2's Desire, the immediate-follow up to their 15-million selling Joshua Tree album, eons before its release without anyone thinking twice. Yet now, without a hint of humour or irony, I am being treated as if I not only know anyone who cares what the next Suede single sounds like, but would be willing to pay for a tape of it recorded through a leather bag.

After regaining consciousness, I join in the fiasco, insist on a full body search (well, at less reputable establishments you'd have to pay good money for this touchy-feely experience) and am seated. The label boss places two speakers on each side of my head, facing my ears from about 20" away, turns it up LOUD, and begins to do that embarrassing, pseudo appreciative in-chair grooving that only people who work in record companies and recording studios have the gall to indulge in. "It's not pompous," he assures me, "even though it's eight minutes long."

Of course any pop song – as opposed to dance record – that lasts eight minutes is by definition pompous. 'Bohemian Rhapsody' was gloriously, defiantly pompous with a side order of pomposity to go. But, despite the circumstances, 'Stay Together' sounds like a fine, many-hued song, liberally doused with Bernard Butler's life-saving guitar, that is destined neither to win many new fans nor shock the devotees.

"It's about a sense of unrest I feel about the world," Brett tells me the following day, in an ill-advised shot at an explanation. "An attempt to make some sense when everything seems to be going slightly insane. I do get a real sense of impending doom, but not in a depressing way, not like we're all gonna die, let's go and rape people. I feel quite content with it. We're living under some shadow, and I'm not quite sure what it is. It's a bit like the fears I felt when I was growing up, when things were unstable and there was the threat of nuclear war, or the fear that your parents could die of aerosol poisoning."

Brett grew up, together with Suede drummer Mat Osman, in the soulless satellite town of Haywards Heath, between London and Brighton. According to Osman, if they'd been the tea party fops people make them out to be, they would've formed a grunge band. They only wanted to be really glamorous because of their stultifyingly dull working class backgrounds. Some might say that that would lead to the three-Es-a-night, dance-and-forget syndrome, rather than the formation of a glam rock band.

"Hopefully we're not a glam rock band," Brett shudders defensively. "You can escape those surroundings by taking a load of Es and ignoring it. Another way is to create your own myth, to try and become romantic in your own eyes, to create something beautiful out of the rubbish and the shit. It all sounds very Oscar Wilde, but that's the way we did it. None of us were brought up in workhouses, but we haven't had easy lives at all."

Suede claim to be obsessed with fame because they were excluded from it. Yet surely fame is the one classless thing people aren't born into?

"Lots of people are constantly privileged," says Brett, who has clearly spent an unhealthy amount of time pondering the abstract qualities of fame. "If you're born in Soho to rich professional parents, and you've got Jonathan Wotsisname coming round to your house every night to see your father, then you've got this world that you slip easily into. When you're excluded from it there's a desperation, you're desperate to have it. It doesn't come as second nature to you, like professionally famous people who hang out in Beverly Hills. It's not something you're comfortable with, but that mutates it into something far more interesting, a bit prickly and far more creative, because you're not just sitting there lapping it up."

Suede's appearance coincided not unfortunately with the post-Madchester 70s revival. But was their styling something more than just the result of being unable to afford new clothes? Personally, I had thought the emergence of Gary Numan had killed off the idea of anyone ever again wanting to be David Bowie (not to mention Bowie's recent records). Then along came Suede, with their rough guitars, their androgyny and their theatrical singer.

"I never thought of ourselves as '70s," Brett insists. "David Bowie is a genius, but the rest of all that rubbish I always found laughable. As for the clothes, I always thought we looked more 60s than 70s. It's all tied up with this whole kitsch thing, this Magpie and Porridge and rediscovering the culture of British music journalists' youths. Kids of 14 didn't know what anyone was talking about, it was just that the people in power had reached a certain age where they were getting sentimental about their youth and started remembering Magpie. That's all it was, all a complete load of rubbish. As soon as we were aware that this scene was going on, we wanted nothing to do with it."

Brett's voice is a highly variable instrument, perfect and beautiful on slow numbers like 'The Next Life', but occasionally, when he affects that archly operatic Bowie yodel, a whiney, sneering sound like Rik Mayall on speed boring into your brain – absolutely maddening. It goes without saying that his delivery owes much to the most overrated British pop star of the last decade, Morrissey.

"I forced my voice in that way because of how we were born, musically, playing shitholes. It was the only way I could make myself heard. I didn't want to sing in the murmuring way that was the style of the time. I wanted to project my voice, because I was writing songs that I wanted people to hear the words of. I wasn't just writing about fluffy little clouds, which is what everyone was doing at the time. People read into my intonations a theatrical seventiesness, but it was a complete accident."

Overworked as the subject is, it's hard to avoid asking why Brett thinks his androgyny caused such a fuss. It's not the first time it has been done; it's not even the tenth time. Genderless, mincing fops are to classic British pop what hairspray is to American rock, a staple ingredient. Brett, by comparison to most, is pretty tame.

"I don't know," he sighs. "We certainly weren't thinking 'oh let's be androgynous', it's just the way we are. I'm naturally quite an effeminate person – not all the time, I do play on things. I think it was because, at the time, people were so incredibly boring. We had been through five years of the cult of non-personality, and we never wanted to go with the flow. When everyone had their heads down, chugging away, we wanted to twist things a little bit. It's like at school, when you find that something annoys someone, you keep on doing it more and more. And that's what happened really."

A female psychologist wrote recently about the overt sexual expression of pre-pubertal girls at pop concerts, the way in which, amidst the non-contact hysteria of the pop experience, they could sometimes experience their first orgasm. She was, admittedly, talking about a Take That show, but I can't help wondering if it looks like that from the stage to Brett Anderson?

"No, nothing like that," he purrs, "nothing sexual. I always feel like people are putting it on."

Having their first fake orgasm?

"It's a bizarre thing in my head. I know they really like me, but I can't really take it seriously. When I'm onstage, and it's working, I feel like I can do absolutely anything. I feel as though there's no limit, even in the sense that I could fall asleep if I felt like it, because I'm that relaxed. I feel much more comfortable on stage than walking down the street. I could go off into a corner and do a crossword or shave my head. I feel ridiculously relaxed. I really enjoy the power of being onstage. It's to do with the circuit of the flow between the audience and you, when it's an audience willing you to be good. Your own power is an expression of how the audience is feeling, but I can't say I ever feel sexual, even if it looks that way. I think that to call the power purely sexual is to belittle it. When I've been to incredible gigs, it hasn't been a sexual thing, it has been something far more magical than that. "

Brett and Osman came to London in the mid 80s to study, respectively, architecture and politics at UCL and LSE. Suede began after they placed an ad in the NME in 1989, but initial concerts had audiences shouting "Fuck off!", critics calling them effete wankers and record companies running for the hills - a three-pronged invitation to eat shit and die that would have spelt the end for most bands.

"That X factor that made people despise us," muses Brett, "was something we managed to turn around in our favour. It's like being in love with someone, and exactly the same things you adore about them, completely horrify you when you've fallen out of love. We went away and learnt how to write songs, and came back transformed. And those qualities that originally pissed people off, we transformed into something provocative. I think the fact that we went through all that rubbish was a fucking good thing for us. People forget that the Beatles spent five years in Hamburg. No one would touch them in England, cos everyone thought they were an utter load of shit. They spent five years getting it together, suffering a bit and fighting for it."

A typical lyric from those hard years was Brett's line about "shitting paracetomol on the escalator". When they were recently described as chemically saturated, I had assumed more interesting chemicals were involved.

"That's about pure mundanity, being off your face every night and your staple diet coming from your bathroom cabinet. It's a metaphor for a humdrum life, going up and down the London underground, which I spent five years of my life doing."

In many ways this – Suede's poignant soundtracking of new depression Britain – is their strength. But if they are Her Majesty's equivalent of slackers, it hasn't made America any more amenable to their cause. Indeed, despite Brett's avowed loathing of the British character – "negativity, small-mindedness, lack of faith" – there may well be a Britishness about Suede which prevents America from getting the point.

Brett makes the mistake of quoting a Smiths song to me – something about innocence, fragility and trust – forcing me to point out that American audiences don't want to be trusted with something precious, they want to rock out with their cocks out. Evan Dando may wear a dress and pigtails, but the wider American market is notoriously unkeen on sexual ambiguity. Queen were big in America until the early 80s, when Freddie Mercury started appearing in full clone gear. They never toured America again, and didn't have a single hit until after his death (and then only thanks to Wayne's World). In fact, America's association of guitars and manliness make Suede fundamentally unsuited.

"No!" storms Brett. "I don't think we're fundamentally unmanly. All you have to do is come and watch us live. We're about sexuality, power and emotion, things that everybody feels."

Whether or not America is destined to fall for his Morrissey-meets-Larry Grayson stage persona, Brett's much-aired desire to move to America (and less well-known plan to live in Paris) has, for now, been replaced by a much smaller act of bedouinism.

"I've moved from Notting Hill to Highgate," he announces proudly, "from a fashionable place to a place where you're living in the last century pretty much. I was living in a very small flat in Notting Hill and it was driving me insane, I couldn't write and was being bombarded with nonsense all day long. I needed the peace and quiet, and now I have a bigger flat with a studio room in it and I'm writing quite prolifically. It's more serene, there's more space to think. It's quite a beautiful place, but you do feel like you're living in the last century, like you're some sort of oddity, or in a play. You keep going into these odd characters. But it's a great place."

In person, and despite the affectation of much of his thought processes, Brett Anderson is quite charming. An endearing smile – which seems to hibernate when cameras are around – plays constantly around his face, suggesting shared confidences which, to some extent, he delivers. Like so many people cocooned by over-protective minions, he is refreshingly open and approachable. I like him. But he is deeply shocked and incredulous when I paint a picture of the special treatment afforded him by those he works with.

"They treat me with the respect I deserve," he jokes defensively. "I don't have tea with Lenny Kravitz. My best friend works in a chip shop, and that's why I like it, it's a complete escape. One of the beautiful things about being successful is that it can rub off onto your friends as well. Not fame and all that bullshit – the really brilliant thing about being successful is the self-confidence, the sense of life having a purpose, that life is a wonderful thing. You open the shutters in the morning and the sunshine pours through. That sense of vitality about life can completely rub off on your friends. Sometimes it doesn't, it can go the other way, with friends ignoring you cos they think you don't have time for them, but that never happens with your proper friends."

And yet, engulfed in the sweltering perversity of his peer group, Brett has come to hold some pretty crap views, views that seem utterly irrelevant beyond the borders of saddo indie land. He worries about being thought a sell-out, thinks Suede are radically honest because they admit to having ambition – as if people didn't get over all that bollocks a decade ago – and, worst of all, that people don't talk enough about music in interviews. Oh dear!

But, despite all this, Brett's public image remains unshatterably cool. He exudes waves of sultry, sulky hipness. I feel an urge to know what naff items lurk in the corners of Chateau Anderson, his ownership of which will shock Suede devotees to the core. Brett tells me he's been to see Aladdin, listens to jazz music, likes The Orb and Verve and has just bought the new Shamen single. To prove it, he even does his Mr C impression - "Comin' on like a vibe, y'know!". This won't do at all.

"I like Terence Trent D'Arby," he admits, trying harder. "I think he's really good."

It's good, but it's not right.

"I bought Billy Joel's River Of Dreams album. I like that one."

Aha – as Inspector Clouseau used to say – now we are getting somewhere! What about films?

"No, I've got impeccable taste when it comes to films."

No feature length On The Buses video stashed chez Brett?

"No. I have got Crocodile Dundee."

Bingo and Bullseye! So much for impeccable taste.

"Well, my perennial favourite is Performance," he flusters wildly. "I can virtually quote the whole film from start to finish. And there's a brilliant film which I've just discovered called The Shout, with John Hurt, Alan Bates and Susanna York. It's about a man who has spent years in the Australian bush learning the secrets of the bush doctors coming to this ridiculously reserved Cornish village and turning two people's lives upside down. It's like an animal alive within this village, and when he shouts, everyone within a mile radius dies. If Alan Bates' part had been played by Vincent Price, it would've been laughable, but it's incredibly powerful, one of those great lost films."

It's a nice try, but nothing can erase the impression created by Billy Joel and Crocodile Dundee.

[artificialqueens]

don't play the fool now (multi) - chapter two - lily2

adore isn’t too interested in attending the famous and ever-so popular: club katya however, she bumps into someone who leaves a lasting impression. meanwhile, shea breaks the most basic rules of her job and katya definitely cares for her sister more than she should.

— ✧*。

Adore stood, locking arm’s with Scarlet and Courtney who were on both of her sides, both of them completely dolled up and wearing their finest and cutest sequin dresses, the new employee stuck out like a sore thumb with her long hair down, a short and black v-neck dress and of course some fishnets and bright red lipstick— she didn’t want to be polished, it was a casino and a club after all, as if someone could get through a sentence or even speak to her about her possibly questionable style choices as they sat, gambling their life away and utterly wasted.

“Well I don’t see the others but we are a bit early.” The Australian speaking up and brushing her hair back gently, not wanting to ruin the shape before she heard a whistle and saw the rest of the girls from their unit walk up, Adore clearly the odd one out as even Yvie decided to dress in whatever she could find that wasn’t too casual. “Let’s do the damn thing ladies.” Aja spoke over the gaggle of girls who all interlocked hands, it almost looked like a cult; an extremely attractive and undercover (but not really) cult. 

First Scarlet and Courtney walked through, waving to the suspecting and familar bartenders and staff who greeted them oh-so-sweetly as expected from two glamorous regulars though Adore couldn’t help but notice the security’s eyes follow her before she turned the corner, clinging a bit to her two new teammates, not due to fear however, Azusa was far more tramuatic and terrifying as a thought than this entire casino: it was more the feeling of being so unaware, everything was bright and the lights a bit dim, people of every kind wanting the same two things: money and alcohol, music blasting as Yvie and Tatianna moved as they walked, feeling themselves to the song. 

“Obviously we aren’t gonna stick together forever so do we want to have a time and place to meet?” Scarlet raising her hand to stop the other seven girls from walking past her, raising a good concern. “The fact you think we will be sober enough to even remember.” Yvie cackled, amused that Scarlet really, truly believed picking a place in the middle of the night, at a casino was a good option for the unit of girls, trying to run away from the stress of their jobs and welcome Adore (in possibly the worst fashion possible) as they gambled and drank the night away, atleast that was what Yvie was planning to do with her time.

“It’s a genuine question, I’m sorry I don’t actually get wasted every time I go out somewhere and besides we’re not on the job, not like I have radios to talk with you guys!“ 

Tatianna held her phone up and nervously gave a smile to the two already beginning to start the usual bickering session, “But we all do have phones and I’m sure some of us will stick together, if anyone goes wrong let’s do that me and Brook Lynn are the ones to call, I know she doesn’t drink too often anhway and I’m pretty responsible so we’ll be the good parents today.” The Canadian shrugged, utterly and completely okay with that little suggestion, “That’s fine by me, I know I’m always the type to get bored and be on my phone anyway." 

"Why did you come then?” Yvie asked, gripping her arm, “Because someone has to be the responsible one like Tatianna said and I don’t trust any of the rest of you to be at Club Katya, we saw how that saga turned out for you and for Aja last time.” Adore wasn’t exactly sure what story that was about but judging by Aja’s cheeks beginning to glow red and Yvie’s stammer, she assumed it wasn’t the most pleasant situation or maybe it was the fucking funniest thing ever, she had yet to find out and maybe she never would.

“You’re coming with me!” Scarlet winked at Adore, speaking up over the rest of them and dragging her along with Courtney, the two of them giddy as can be, they seemed to legitmately enjoy the aesthetic and double life, not like anyone would ask what job they had and if they didn’t they certainly wouldn’t answer a private investigator or detective, what a damn downer.

“The first night of your job and you’re gonna spend it with us gambling, wonderful!” The chipper tone from Courtney’s voice enough to speak volumes of how this night was about to go, she was either going to earn a fuck ton of money or die on the balcony roof and both seemed like acceptable, viable options at this stage of the game.

“Let’s get our money ladies!" 

*.✧

Bianca, Shea and Jinkx gathered in the car, all dressed about as nice they ever would going to Club Katya though Bianca always attempted to atleast look decent, wanting to make a lasting impression and also show off her clothing, it was a win-win! Shea’s fingers tapped the window of the car she she stared blankly, the window of the black Tesla dimmed, Jinkx claiming it was for protection— not wanting others to make any assumptions but Shea knew it really came down to what was probably a sponsorship and the fact that Jinkx could barely drive if the sun was glaring, she probably got tired of wearing glasses in the car, claiming always it made her look older than Bianca.

"You’re really hilarious for someone who can’t even stay awake doing a simple task, why do you think I only give you the exciting shit? It’s not because I love you, it’s because I know you won’t fucking sleep and pass out on the concrete.” The Auburn haired woman had to laugh, gently clutching Bianca’s arm, Jinkx knew the mutual love and respect they had shared for over two decades was enough to make her atleast go a bit easy on the Seattle native, she twirled her own auburn hair around her fingertips before giving a blank stare at Shea, who turned and met her eyes.

Jinkx wasn’t exactly sure what to think of Shea just yet, she had been very promising and apparently Bob’s word of her was so generous and so incredible that Bianca already trusted her with Katya: Manila had been scared after only meeting her at Bianca’s own living space, though she had a few, once a few boys and drugs got involved so to see someone as new as Shea being trusted to handle the dirt and task to come was definitely terrifying and impressive enough.

“You nervous?” Bianca asked, crossing her legs as Shea’s eyes darted away from Jinkx, her hands interlocking with themselves as she shut her eyes, running a hand through her hair. “A little, but nothing I can’t handle, I’m here to show I’m ready for the job.” For someone who had only joined five months ago she was definitely a shining beacon of what the future was in store atleast that was how Bob put it and Bianca would definitely trust her word.

“Well, don’t stress yourself out before we’ve gotten there.” Was the only piece of truth Bianca could offer before she turned away from Shea who only gave a polite nod, wishing deeply she had just been sent with Aquaria and Violet instead, she had heard a lot about the infamous Katya Zamolodchikova.

Katya Zamolodchikova who had been in prison for drug abuse, Katya who had escaped Russia due to her family and the growing and rampant terror of government, Katya who now was a mogul in the Eastern United States for her line of casinos, clubs and whatever downtrodden thing she could possibly imagine, living on her own and hanging around at her own established area’s, staying hush and quiet about any business or disappearance of men or women who had messed with the wrong people. 

All she had to do was laugh or smile and she had anyone who was willing around her finger, her thick and curly long blonde hair covering almost all her beautifully and consistently painted face, wearing lots of lace and lingerie on her downtime and spending her growing fortune on beauty products, animal charities, her new projects and sometimes saving a stack or two for Bianca who had helped her break into the business and gave her a place when she was just a bedridden, ill immigrant, lost in New York City and barley able to communicate in proper English.

“I miss Katya!” Jinkx pouted, smiling at the thought of seeing her fellow Eastern European at her own club, she knew the meeting was for business but nothing a pack of cigarettes couldn’t do for sweet and dear Katya, Bianca had already figured out every mark and weakness she had and she really would be a difficult character to crack if it wasn’t for the fact she is the reason the bitch could even communicate in English. “I don’t.” Bianca laughed, hitting Jinkx before coughing and handling herself up again realizing Shea was still in the car and she had to keep up that “leader” and “supreme boss” act up. 

✧*。

The three exited the car, Bianca giving her driver direct and clear instructions when and where to come before he was on his way off, she walked in the middle of Shea and Jinkx, the latter auburn haired woman adjusting her dress and making sure it hit the floor in just the right light before she shook a bit to ease her own personal stress and begun walking closely to Bianca, Shea following in pursuit, knowing better than to open her mouth and ask questions. 

Music blasting, lights dimmed, flashing and bright colors everywhere, alcohol splattered on the floor everywhere they seemed to look and the constant image of people grinding or kissing or attempting to dance: this was definitely Katya’s club and her own doing.

Bianca’s heels hit the tile of the hallway right next to club, her two girls following, many knew this as the gateway from the Club to the Casino or vise versa but the hallway also housed dressing rooms for any kind of entertainment that showed up, Katya took after these rooms like her own and had even converted one into her personal space, knowing her entire life was work and the occasional times she went home and didn’t have to ring down ten shots of vodka. 

A smattering knock from Jinkx, credit to her, had the Russian cursing before she opened the door and her dull and otherwise threatening expression changed into a soft smile, her eyes raising in surprise as her lashes fluttered, shrieking then which made Shea almost collapse into the pavement in surprise, still grasping the door handle she quickly pulled the three of them in and locked the door— Bianca impressed with how well decorated and insulted the room was. 

The Russian quickly grabbing Bianca in her arms and laughing wholeheartedly, the two giggling and rowdy like two high schoolers, “красивая женщина!” She cooed in Russian to her dearest and nearest friend before taking Jinkx and planting a kiss on both of her cheeks as she reciprocated the favor, “красивое платье.” Jinkx flushing and waving her off, knowing more than enough Russian to realize she called her dress beautiful, “Спасибо!” The half-Ukranian replied with a soft glow across her face, Katya wearing nothing but a gorgeous red, feathered sheer robe with a thick black bra and spandex.

“Looking like a whore as usual.” Bianca teased as Shea stood a bit awkwardly, not exactly knowing how and when to introduce herself to the not-so-mysterious Russian mogul. “Oh yes!” Jinkx clapped noticing Shea, “Katya, this is Shea, she works for us and is a very good and promising employee." 

They shook hands though Katya was never into the formality, she’d rather kiss someone on the cheek than shake their hand and hope the other person didn’t have a strong grip. "Any friend of Bianca is of course a friend of mine, I trust you are new? I have yet to see or hear of you around.” Her sniffing was absolutely correct, Bianca explaining she was of Bob’s finding and is very dedicated to her line of work and extremely intelligent. “Likes leather to boot.” The comment from the blonde referring to her skin-tight leather emsmeble, “I like it!” She slapped Shea’s shoulders and flashed that endearing and famous Katya smile.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure." 

The four of them sat before Katya stood again, pouring four glasses of genuine Russian vodka she had gotten yesterday from her deliveries, "Just some taste of the motherland!” Handing a glass to the other three they cheered and took down the shot, Katya giving herself another sip straight from the bottle just for fun.

“So of course there is some business to speak of, we love you but we have a task to finish.” Bianca spoke first, Katya leaning in her chair and staring curiously, “Well yes, it’s what you must do, please tell me more.” Bianca opened her mouth before giving a signal for Jinkx and Shea to leave, an unusual turn of events they both gave eachother a disheartened look before they stood and went out the door, Bianca scooting closer to Katya, “I want them out because this goes back to you." 

"To me? Has my family finally caught up to me and the Russian government wants the money I stole back?" 

"Not exactly but I fear it has something to possibly do with your sister." 

Katya’s face bleached itself white, her breathing a bit slower but her heart racing almost three times as fast, her greatest and only fear in life wasn’t being killed, death, nothing like that; it was her sister being in harm and somehow poking herself at the underground and what was there, Sasha had majored in forensics and political science last Katya had heard, their brief and discreet conversation during their mother’s funeral at St. Petersburg more than enough of an indication that Sasha would absolutely become some kind of hero, politician or worse— detective.

"Bianca you swore to me she would never, ever get hurt or wind up in your cases.” The tone in her voice nothing but pure anger and disappointment, Bianca quickly grabbed her hands and shook her head, “And I’m keeping that promise, I’m a cold hearted bitch but jesus christ, you know I would never do that shit.”

The Russian breathed a much needed sigh of relief before letting go of her hands, “So what, I’m guessing she is a detective now? My worst fear.” Bianca could only nod and see Katya’s eyes flash with nothing but utter fear and worry, she knew that meant her sister was safe but at a distance— they weren’t going to just dismiss her and go easy if she tried to harass and meddle in what she didn’t need to even if she was Katya’s sister but: the promise would always be kept, Katya was absolutely sacred and her sister was untouched territory, that’s how it would stay.

“She is but from our files it shows she really hasn’t broken out on us specifically, she is doing the easy work, not the dirty work, anyone can take someone to court for a single count of murder and analyze the results." 

"So what about her is so important then?" 

Bianca snuck a file folder covered in sticky notes, throwing it to Katya for her to open and investigate herself.

"We need you to help us out and pull some strings." 

✧*。

Shea had decided to take the chance as she walked herself over the casino, knowing Bianca was someone who would take her sweet, sweet time if she was talking business and things with Katya: Jinkx insisting on just staying by the club and getting alcohol. Giving herself a grand tour, Shea gagged at the sheer amount of wealth and power and beauty the casino showed off, clearly Katya was intent on showing every penny she had put into her business and buildings, it showed from the outside to the inside.

Alcohol was the only thing really on her mind and she wanted to overpay for a speciality cocktail to atleast make herself feel a bit fancy and important, not wanting to be in the club lights and blasting music, the Casino had music but was definitely not loud and not obnxious party and dance music, it was a nice welcome in the moment.

Her eyes immediately caught eye of a stranger, short haired, curly blonde and tall who was leaning against the bar and speaking to someone next to her who had long, thick and black hair. The blonde’s soft gaze almost instantly gravitating Shea towards her, she prayed that she wasn’t married and this wouldn’t be awkward fast, she simply wanted a drink and the opportunity to buy her one. 

"Excuse me.” Shea spoke up, gently tapping the blonde on her shoulder, she turned in the barstool and her eyes met with Shea’s and the two completely melted, Sasha incomprehensibly silent before Adore nudged her a bit, smirking seeing her new co-worker and fellow friend so caught in midst of the gaze. 

“Oh I’m sorry, that was so rude.” The Russian speaking up once Adore gently shook her out of it, the two smiling at eachother as Sasha leaned on the bar counter, telling that the mysterious and new girl clearly was struggling to speak, “I…" 

Shea put her hands around her own waist and gave a glistening grin and wink, sliding in-between her and her friend, Adore raising her hands a bit frustrated that she might already turn into the third wheel. "I was wondering if I could buy you a drink." 

"I would be very glad if you did." 

Thank god, Shea begun to calm a bit, pulling out an 100$ bill and sliding it to the bar tender who quickly took it and waited for whatever drinks they wanted to purchase, "I just want straight vodka.” She must’ve been Eastern European judging by her choice in alcohol, it wasn’t sterotypical, it was just what she had come to understand from Jinkx and barely meeting Katya twenty minutes ago. Not to mention the not too obvious but still noticable punch of an accent

“Gin and tonic.” She instructed while still staring at Sasha, entranced, she was already breaking ten rules in the non-existent handbook of being in the mafia but not like Bianca was even wondering where she was, if she was she would’ve called anyway. “I’m Sasha.” She giggled, Shea taking her hand and giving a small wink in reply, “Shea." 

Adore didn’t know whether to throw up and just leave, let her be or see where this went but she decided on the usual, giving Sasha a discreet tap of the shoulder, a nod from her and she was off on her on.

Ten minutes of aimless strolling had showed that Scarlet and Courtney were both gambling as if they had any good amount of money to lose so freely, flying by the hem of their dresses. But they genuinely seemed to be loving their lives and the game they were playing.

"Oh shit!” She yelped, feeling herself fall into someone as she stared backwards, not paying attention to whatever was in front of her, an entire bag dropped but she more focused on helping out the poor person she had knocked down.

“Jesus Christ!” Yelled the other, distinctly female voice, before Adore gently took her hands and helped her up, making sure she didn’t trip on her heels before they both begun to speak, quickly letting go of their hands. 

Bianca couldn’t help but glance at her, she was gorgeous. She would usually rip someone in fishnets to pieces and destroy them on sight but damn she looked good and everything fit her to a t, clearly she had her own eye for fashion, her dark eyes and dark hair only helping her to blend in with the dark wall of the casino, “I’m sorry, I really didn’t watch where I was going—" 

"I know, I know, I got that.” Bianca dusted herself off and only hoped her heels didn’t suffer any damages, they were expensive and a gift from Raja which meant she either bought them or stole them but either way, same attachment to the perfectly snug white heels. Adore snapped back, “I’m sorry?" 

"Listen don’t worry about it, really, thank you for your help.” Bianca raced off as fast as a normal person could look trying to run in heels across a casino at night but Adore blinked, finally shying her eyes away from the woman. 

She was beautiful. 

Black hair, styled very nicely to add onto the overall package, white heels, a tulle skirt and either handsewen or what Adore assumed was designer for a sequined top that matched and coordinated so well with her entire outfit, she was either the most important person in the world and Adore was oblivious or she was just someone’s arm candy for the night who needed to make themselves into a beauty queen for the occasion.

Adore didn’t believe too badly in many things but she would definitely pray and hope that somehow, somehow she could find that same girl again, someday

[aliciameade]

Baby - Ch. 10

Title: Baby Author: aliciameade Rating: *** M *** Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary:  That tearful kiss shared between Stephanie and Emily wasn't their first—and it certainly wasn't their last.

(Chapter 1)

Also on AO3 - and guys this is...A LOT so consider that your warning.

(You can buy me a ko-fi if you want to!)

Waking up next to Emily is one of Stephanie’s favorite things.

And being woken by Emily’s lips grazing her shoulder is...extraordinary.

It’s early; she can tell by the light in the room, but it feels like she’s been allowed to sleep in for hours. She tries not to stir, to not let Emily know she’s awake just yet. She wants to wait and see what Emily will do: if she’ll stop and go back to sleep or keep at it until she draws a response from Stephanie.

She smiles to herself and savors the featherlight kisses that trail along her shoulder, the tickle of hair as they progress from her shoulder toward the base of her neck and the light scrape of fingernails as they shift her hair to the side. She resists the need to shiver at the fingertips tracing patterns over her hip and thigh. She knows Emily wants her, likes her, maybe even trusts her, but it’s easy to convince herself it could all be a ruse when she’s awake and has something to give Emily.

Experiencing it when Emily thinks she’s not aware of it is breathtaking. There’s no need for her to be keeping up a façade now. It’s authentic and vulnerable and when Emily’s lips are warm at the back of her neck she gives in and reaches for the hand on her hip to pull it around her waist. “Good morning,” she mumbles, wiggling backward into the warm body behind her.

Emily sighs and tightens her arm around Stephanie’s waist. Stephanie giggles at the tickle of a nose behind her ear and it’s easy, so easy to believe this is real life, that this is how she can wake up every morning.

“Morning.” Emily’s voice is low, gravely with sleep and a hint of something more. They’re both nude and Stephanie can feel Emily’s chest against her back and hips fitted behind her rear. There’s the subtlest shift of them at Stephanie’s wakefulness.

Stephanie presses her face to her pillow to hide how hard she’s grinning; waking up like this, to a soft, warm Emily who’s cuddling her, who is almost trembling with desire, is too much.

Lips trace the shell of her ear. “Make love to me,” drifts over Stephanie and it makes her sigh. Emily asking for it with those words, the few times it has happened, does more to Stephanie and her emotions than any of the desperate, dirty things they’ve shared.

Stephanie hums and turns over in her arms, ready to do just that but the look on Emily’s face when she sees her makes her pause. There’s a level of fear in her eyes that urges Stephanie to reach for her and trace her fingertips along her brow and cheek. She knows better than to ask what’s wrong; Emily only shares when she wants to. Instead, she tries to pour her willingness to listen and how much she cares into the kiss she gives her as her hand trails across Emily’s stomach.

It’s slow this time; nothing like it had been yesterday when they’d arrived. Stephanie loves it when it’s wild and raw but when it’s like this, the rare occasion that it is for Emily to whisper a request for gentility, for Stephanie to take care of her, she has no words for it.

Their lips only part so Emily can breathe when she needs to until she’s gasping and clinging to Stephanie in pleasure.

Stephanie acts like she doesn’t notice the tears in Emily’s eyes when they open after and meet hers for a moment before Emily moves hastily get out of bed to disappear into the bathroom. The sound of the shower turning on follows and Stephanie sighs, heart aching for whatever it is that has so clearly been gnawing at Emily for so long.

~ ~

~ ~

Stephanie passes the time while Emily’s away by first calling Miles to check on him and remind him to be careful at the trampoline park. She freshens up and dresses and takes a walk to find a bite for lunch. She’s never been to Los Angeles and it’s nothing like Warfield or New York City. The hotel seems to be in the middle of everything, or at least in the middle of a lot of things, and she sips a latte as she strolls past boutiques and restaurants, window shopping and enjoying the sunshine until a dress in a window catches her eye.

It’s cute and midnight blue with a diamond-shaped keyhole in the bodice; she doesn’t recognize the name of the designer on the storefront and she hopes it translates into an affordable price tag. She’d brought a dress for dinner tonight but it wasn’t new. She knows Emily values fashion—though she has her suspicions she doesn’t love it quite as much as she portrays herself to—and she does want to look nice tonight, so she steps into the shop to ask to see the dress in her size.

~ ~

~ ~

She doesn’t hear from Emily all day which doesn’t exactly surprise her, but it does bug her. She knew Emily would have to work on this trip—it’s a business trip, after all—but she can’t help that she misses her.

Her stomach growls when she’s checking her makeup for the third or fourth time; it’s well past 6:00 pm and she realizes she has no idea what time their dinner reservations are for. When it ticks past 7:00 pm she starts to worry; she knows Emily’s an important person and works long hours regularly, but they’re supposed to have a date and Stephanie has been waiting for this night for weeks and—

The runaway train of thoughts is interrupted by the sound of the door opening and closing and she breathes a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that she expected Emily to stand her up; after all, she brought her across the country for this date, but she was beginning to worry that it would have to be canceled or rescheduled.

She steps out of the bathroom to say hello and stops short when she sees Emily. She looks drained as she loosens her tie and removes her jacket.

“Is everything okay?” Stephanie says as she hurries over to her. She stops short at the memory of Emily rebuffing her greeting at her house last week when she seemed equally worn out and keeps her hands to herself.

She keeps them to herself until Emily has her wrapped up in a hug. It’s sudden but welcome and Stephanie holds her tightly. They don’t kiss or speak and Stephanie understands it’s what Emily needs at this moment: to be held and nothing more.

Minutes seem to pass before Stephanie feels a kiss touch her forehead as Emily steps away. She reduces undressing as she makes her way toward the bathroom. “Dinner’s at 8:00. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Great,” she says with a wave Emily can’t see before biting her thumbnail for a minute in concern. As much as she’s looking forward to tonight, she doesn’t want to force Emily to go out again when she’s so clearly tired. Then again, she’d stated she’d be ready so they would be on time for their reservation and even if she told Emily they didn’t have to go, she can’t imagine she’d listen. She can’t imagine Emily doing anything anyone says, least of all Stephanie.

(Intimate moments notwithstanding.)

~ ~

~ ~

Stephanie waits at the table in the sitting room. When Emily returns, she appears to be her usual self once again, as though she somehow washed away the exhaustion she’d arrived with. Her style tonight is on the more formal end of the spectrum, though somehow more casual than what Stephanie’s used to seeing her in when she’s coming from the office. She’s paired a flowing white blouse that is as flattering on her figure as her other expertly tailored shirts with gray trousers. Her hair is down and loose and, Stephanie thinks, begging to have her hands in it.

She leaps to her feet filled with the need to be formal for some reason. Maybe it’s because it feels a lot like Emily’s arrived to pick her up for their date even though all she did was walk into the room.

“You look nice,” Emily says as she crosses the room with an effortless grace that still manages to make Stephanie’s heart stop, but not as much as her heart stops when Emily leans down to kiss her without further preamble.

It’s over before Stephanie has a chance to react and she knows she’s blushing when she stammers, “Thank you. So do you.”

Emily’s hand drifts down to make her shiver until it traces the dress’s neckline. “Is this new?”

Stephanie nods. Her heart’s stuck somewhere in her throat from the gentle brush of Emily’s fingertips along her décolletage. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of the cutout in the bodice that she’d banked on getting Emily’s attention; she’s wearing her most effective bra and she knows her cleavage looks good but is also very on display. Emily doesn’t mention anything about it, though, nor do her fingers travel down to graze the exposed skin there as Stephanie both hopes for and prays not to happen. She doesn’t want to miss their reservation and if Emily touches her there, they won’t be getting out of the hotel room any time soon.

“You ready to go?” Emily says as she takes half a step back and starts to smirk in a way that at least gives Stephanie a warning to try to brace herself. “I need to show you off.”

Nothing, however, could have prepared Stephanie for that. Her reaction must be evident because Emily chuckles and reaches out to take her hand.

“Let’s go; the car’s downstairs.”

~ ~

~ ~

The restaurant they arrive at is so covered in ivy that it might as well be a hedge. Stephanie struggles to identify the entrance. It’s an unmarked, unassuming black door and there’s a zip of adrenaline when Stephanie thinks perhaps Emily has brought her to a secret speakeasy known only to the more elite crowds. She keeps the comment to herself, feeling a bit foolish for it, and instead smiles up at Emily who offers her elbow to Stephanie.

She takes it, of course. She tucks her hand into the crook of Emily’s elbow as they walk toward the mystery door which Emily opens and holds for Stephanie.

She takes her elbow again once inside and allows Emily to guide them through a library—a library?—toward a podium. She half-listens as Emily gives her name too caught up in the ambiance of the restaurant. It’s so earthy-feeling that it surprises her; Emily’s house is cold and sterile and it is the very antithesis of that. It’s wooden beams and dark curtains and low light and candles and ivy crawling over the walls even inside. The staff’s uniforms are dark as well, solid black with a black vest, though she notices a few of them daring a pop of color with a pocket square.

They’re led to an alcove along a wall with a single table and pair of chairs framed by curtains drawn back along each framing column. It’s one of several along the wall, but it is almost completely private, curtains separating the alcoves as well. Multiple light fixtures hang from the ceiling above the table though they’re not intrusive nor too bright. The table is already set with a place setting intended for an appetizer and wine glasses and Stephanie doesn’t realize she needs to move until she feels Emily gently remove her hand from her elbow to angle her toward her seat.

She sits and is surprised by the menu that is somehow in her hand. Then she notices Emily seems to be laughing.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Emily says with a chuckle. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said since we got here.”

She wonders if that’s possible. “Oh, sor—I’m just…” She stops herself and takes a breath. “Em, this place is so nice.”

Emily seems pleased with that. “It comes highly recommended.”

“By whom?”

“Tom Ford.”

She blinks. “The designer?”

“Do you know another Tom Ford?”

Stephanie shakes her head and works on getting a hold on her nerves. She’s looked forward to a night like this almost since she met Emily and it’s happening and so far, it feels perfect. Her need to verbally respond is thankfully interrupted by a waiter arriving to pour glasses of water, the bottle of which is left behind on the table. It’s just long enough that she has her thoughts organized when he departs.

“And what does Tom Ford recommend to eat?” she asks as she opens the menu.

Emily opens hers as well and Stephanie looks up to watch the way her eyes scan down the listings. “I asked. He suggested the burrata and the halibut.”

Stephanie glances back at the menu to read about the dishes and notices both of them are indicated as being gluten-free. She doesn’t remember mentioning her avoidance of the protein and she has eaten non-gluten-free things around Emily before, but it seems evident that Emily made a concerted effort to find out and remember.

“Okay. Who am I to question his taste?” She closes her menu and sets it aside and is lucky enough to watch Emily return to hers to decide.

The lighting is so flattering to Emily’s already striking features that it makes Stephanie need to take a sip of water. Once Emily sets the menu aside, she leans forward, hand reaching across the table until it’s midway, hand open and palm up.

Stephanie can hardly believe it—can hardly believe anything about this trip. She slips her hand into Emily’s and her heart warms at the way Emily’s smile reaches her eyes. People can see them. There are dozens of people in the restaurant and while they have a private area, it’s still open. In fact, it’s almost less private than an unassuming table in the middle of the floor. She almost feels like they’re on stage. And Emily’s holding her hand. In public. At a romantic restaurant. Lit by candlelight. On a date.

“So. What trouble did you get into today without me keeping you in line?”

Briefly, Stephanie considers fanning herself. Emily’s being so kind and romantic and flirtatious that it’s almost too much to handle. She’s dealt with it in small bursts before, but with this trip, it’s feeling like a marathon exercise and the runner’s high has definitely kicked in. “Well, after I posted bond and got out of jail—” she smiles when Emily scrunches her nose at her knowingly bad joke “—I went for a walk. I’ve never been here before, so—”

“You’ve never been to LA?”

“No,” Stephanie answers with a shake of her head. “I grew up in Philly and my family didn’t really take big trips. And then I met Davis and he basically dragged me kicking and screaming out of the city and into the suburbs. I hated it at first; now I can’t imagine living in a big city like this again. I already worry when Miles wants to play outside, and if we were in some big metropolis? Yikes.”

“No trips?”

“I mean, sure, we traveled a bit, but we mostly stayed in New England. We did go to Montreal once. That was fun. Oui, oui!”

“No Disneyland?”

“Never.”

Emily’s quiet for a moment and Stephanie feels like she’s being scrutinized. She tries not to squirm under Emily’s gaze. “Maybe we could come back some time and bring the boys,” Emily finally says.

Stephanie has to blink twice. Did Emily just suggest they take another trip together? In the future? With their children?

“That would be fun,” she says with a nod. Emotions well up inside her and tell her to do something like cry or say something like she lo—

“Okay. Let’s keep that in mind.”

“Yeah, yes. I will definitely...keep that in mind,” she says with what she hopes isn’t too nervous of a giggle.

“So that’s it? You went for a walk?”

Stephanie has to channel her focus into her words because the way Emily’s thumb is brushing back and forth over her hand is distracting. “Well, no. I went for a walk to explore the area. I had lunch at a cute little bistro and I did a lot of window shopping,” she laughs. “Prices here, they rival New York’s.”

Emily nods at her. “You bought that today.”

Stephanie glances down at her dress and smooths the skirt over her lap with her free hand. “I did, yes.”

“You bought it for our date?” Emily’s hand squeezes hers at the word and she feels her eyelashes flutter.

“Um, yeah, I did.”

“You know I’m a sure thing, right? You didn’t need to have your tits out to get me into bed tonight.”

Stephanie blushes furiously and tries to reclaim her hand as apologies that don’t include the word ‘sorry’ start rattling around in her brain; instantly she’s swallowed by shame and embarrassment but Emily holds firm to her hand.

“Hey,” Emily says firmly enough that it makes Stephanie stop trying to figure out how to cover the peekaboo aspect of her dress. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. You look beautiful.”

“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Um, thank you.”

The reason she’s blushing changes when Emily’s gaze drifts down to very obviously land on her cleavage, the curves of which are on display. Knowing she chose the dress to get Emily’s attention this way was one of the reasons she’d purchased it but that doesn’t stop the excitement and arousal that spikes when the appreciation for it is so clear on Emily’s face.

“I’m not going to be able to make it back to the hotel without getting my hands on you.”

Every ounce of heat and moisture in Stephanie’s body collects in one place and it makes her shiver.

“So, have we decided?”

The waitress’s voice makes Stephanie jump and she feels Emily’s hand tighten in amusement.

“She’s going to have the halibut. I’ll take the mushroom pappardelle, and we’ll share the burrata.”

Stephanie’s vaguely aware Emily’s ordering for her but she’s struggling to hear over her heart pounding in her ears.

“And we’ll take a bottle of Chardonnay. Marcassin, if you have it? Perfect, thank you.”

There’s a lengthy period of silence and Stephanie realizes the waitress is gone. She exhales, not even knowing she’d been holding her breath.

Emily chuckles. “You good?”

“Good. Great,” she says, feeling like the words are too big for her mouth for some reason. She reaches for her water and hopes the wine arrives soon.

“You know, we can close that curtain,” Emily says with a tilt of her head toward the one open side of their alcove.

Stephanie’s pounding heart stops.

“Close it and come sit on my lap and I’ll fuck you, baby.”

It resumes beating at roughly one thousand times its usual pace and she’s so embarrassed but her hips actually tilt at the suggestion. Just like that, she’s turned on and she knows herself well enough to know it’s not going to go away until she finds relief. She glances at the curtain drawn back on Emily’s side. All she would have to do is pull the tie around it and it would billow down and across and cocoon them away from prying eyes. Eyes that could still see if someone grazed the curtain as they passed nudging it open for a moment. Or the waitress or a busser or server arriving with their order. She hates herself a little for how much those possibilities affect her. She doesn’t want to be aroused by the thought of strangers watching her have sex but this isn’t the first time she’s imagined it, and it’s not the first time she’s been turned on by it in the last twenty-four hours.

She feels Emily’s hand shift, changing the angle until the tickle of a fingernail scrapes her palm. Once, twice, a third time and that’s when Stephanie understands what she’s doing, what the very rhythmic, hypnotic motion is mimicking and she doesn’t remember standing up, but she is, and she must have done it right when a server returned with their wine because the young man seems startled.

“Oh. Sorry,” she says as she sits down again and she hears the click of Emily’s tongue, a chastisement for forgetting herself and using the only word that is inappropriate to Emily. “I mean, excuse me.”

She waits, hands fidgeting in her lap as the server goes through the fanfare of allowing Emily to sample the wine he’s brought before pouring Stephanie’s glass, topping off Emily’s, and nestling the bottle in an ice bucket he’s positioned in the corner of their alcove.

She feels Emily’s eyes on her once he leaves and she looks up to find her smiling wickedly over the glass of wine in her hand.

“Shall we toast?” Emily says, as though she hadn’t just told Stephanie she’d fuck her in the middle of a restaurant.

“We...shall,” Stephanie says after wetting her lips. She picks up her glass and she can see the wine betraying how affected she is; she’s trembling and it’s obvious.

If Emily notices, she doesn’t comment on it. “To tonight,” she says as she lifts her glass in a salute before sipping.

“To tonight,” Stephanie repeats.

Routine dining activity is frequent after that, and she is grateful. The burrata arrives and allows for a break in the tension. Entrees follow soon thereafter and she’s relieved that her arousal eases enough that she can once again carry on a conversation. Emily’s also curbed her suggestiveness and they fall into easy conversation.

“So, where did you grow up?” Stephanie asks. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned it before.”

“I haven’t.” Emily’s fork seems to slow its journey from plate to mouth and there’s an awkward length of silence before she swallows and adds, “I don’t really like talking about my childhood.”

“Oh! That’s okay. Why don’t you tell me about your day instead? What exciting things does Dennis have going on out here?” What she’s really angling for is any insight into Emily’s emotional morning and why she returned looking like she’d been steamrolled.

“We’re really going to talk about my day at the office?” Emily says with a hint of a frown.

Stephanie has the sudden feeling she can’t say anything right, which isn’t foreign to her at all but it’s not something she’s been made to feel by Emily very many times. “I’m just making conversation,” she says and she knows she sounds defensive by the way Emily’s eyes snap to hers but she ignores it and presses on. “I don’t know that much about you but I would like to.”

“Oh, you don’t want to open that door, baby. Trust me.”

Stephanie sets down her fork to focus only on Emily; it’s then that she notices for the first time that Emily’s wedding ring, that beautiful sapphire that’s adorned her ring finger since they met and Stephanie once adored before she learned to despise it, is absent. She takes a breath at all the possible things it could mean and decides not to ask her about it. “I do, though,” she says cautiously. “You’re my best friend and...and it feels weird to me that I don’t even know where you grew up. Or if you have a brother or a sister. Or where you went to college.” She bites her tongue when she hears how many details she’s requesting when Emily just told her she didn’t want to share anything at all.

Emily’s sharp stare drops and she pushes around the pasta on her plate, not making an effort at the moment to actually take a bite. She doesn’t snap at Stephanie for pushing but she does seem deep in thought so Stephanie doesn’t say a word. She waits and watches the way Emily fiddles with her fork until she spears a slice of mushroom.

“I’m from Michigan.”

Stephanie’s heart swells at the tiny bit of personal information shared and she tries not to press for more. “Really?”

Emily glances up and she seems oddly vulnerable for sharing something as basic as that. “Why does that surprise you?”

She chooses her words carefully. “You’re so sophisticated; I assumed you were raised...well, I didn’t expect the Midwest.”

Emily sits up straight and it’s then Stephanie realizes she’d been slouching, as though trying to hide, and she’s never seen Emily do that before. “Enough about how I was raised. What about you? Any other siblings you slept with?” She winks as she says it and Stephanie feels the heaviness of the moment evaporate.

“Emily!” she says with a huff and a furtive glance out across the restaurant in a moment of paranoia. “No!”

“Siblings you haven’t slept with?” she goads with a toothy bite off pasta her fork before she waggles her eyebrows at Stephanie.

God, Stephanie loves when Emily teases her way more than she thinks she probably should. “I’m an only child,” she says pointedly. “Well, you know what I mean.”

Emily hums and seems to be thinking as she takes a sip of wine. “You said you went to Barnard?”

“I did, yeah.”

“That’s an all women's college, isn’t it?”

Stephanie narrows her eyes; she can already feel it coming. “It is.”

“Were you one of those girls who got drunk at a sorority party and made out someone who took you up to their room only to tell them after they ate you out but before you returned the favor that it was a mistake and you were just drunk?” There’s a beat of silence and Stephanie doesn’t dare respond. “Or maybe you did fuck them,” she continues thoughtfully. “You knew what you were doing the first time you fucked me.”

The vulgarity is not lost on Stephanie; it manages to fill her with equal amounts of shame and pride and she tries to mask it with a drink but she knows Emily sees right through her.

“You did,” Emily says with a smile that feels almost predatory. She even leans forward as though ready to share a secret, eyes sparkling with mirth but dark with what Stephanie is quick to recognize as desire. “How many women have you slept with?”

She balks at the question. “What? Are we—are we comparing lists now? How many women have you slept with?”

“Seven. Answer the question.”

Jealousy, or maybe envy, flares inside Stephanie. “Four,” she admits. “And I’m going to make you forget about those other six women tonight.”

Her aggressive flirtation takes Emily aback and she finds delight in watching her fumble for the confidence Stephanie just knocked off-kilter. “Not if I make you forget about the other three first,” Emily finally says.

Stephanie squirms again; the arousal she’s been fighting all evening is threatening to overtake her self-control. “Okay,” she says with a breathy laugh and directs her attention to her dinner. “This is delicious and I want to finish it and I’m not going to be able to if we don’t behave.”

Emily smiles as though she’s won and visibly relaxes. “Sure. Eat up, baby.” It’s an innocuous enough statement but it still drives right between Stephanie’s legs because she knows Emily chose those words with purpose. “The sooner we’re out of here, the sooner I can lick that sweet little snatch of yours.”

Stephanie drops her fork. “Okay! Okay.” She doesn’t even know why she’s saying ‘okay’ but it’s the only word she can find at the moment.

Emily reads her disorientation loud and clear and Stephanie’s as horrified as she is elated to see the smirk on Emily’s beautiful face as she leans back to reach for the tie holding the curtain in place. She pulls it and it falls in one quick swoop just as Stephanie imagined it would. It’s more than a little suggestive and all that needs to happen is for Stephanie to do the same on her side.

She’s about to when their waitress appears again to refill their wine glasses. She watches Emily talk to the server, hears something about how they would prefer not to be bothered as she gestures toward the one closed curtain and Stephanie watches with rapt attention as the waitress smiles and nods and does them the favor of untying and closing the curtain on Stephanie’s side.

And just like that, they are alone.

She can still hear the restaurant, the conversations of the patrons on the other side of the curtains behind each of them and to her right. But what she hears most is the sound of Emily’s chair scraping the stone floor as she moves back from the table.

It’s an invitation for one thing and one thing only. There’s color in Emily’s cheeks now and Stephanie knows she’s as turned on as she is. It’s the only thing that makes her legs work as she slides her own chair back to step around the table until she’s at Emily’s side.

She expects to be pulled down into her lap as Emily had already suggested but instead, she gasps as Emily’s hand lands on her knee and runs up her thigh and between her legs. Her fingers stroke over the soaking wet lace and Stephanie has to put a hand on the table to support herself as she whimpers.

“Oh, baby girl,” Emily says, low and so sexy as she removes her hand and immediately brings her fingers to her mouth to suck on them. All her movements have a hint of urgency to them that Stephanie thinks may have to do with their present location. Or maybe it’s just out of desire.

It startles Stephanie, lost in a sexual fog when Emily stands and backs her up against the only solid wall of their space. Her shoulders connect with a thud and she watches in awe as Emily lowers herself until she’s kneeling. Hands run up Stephanie’s legs again until they’re on her ass and she feels her thong get pulled down and she has to close her eyes; she cannot believe she is doing this in a restaurant.

She feels Emily’s mouth on her thigh, under her skirt, moving higher until her warm, wet tongue slithers over her clit.

“Em,” she whispers, hands grappling for something to hang on to but finding nothing along the wall. “Fuck.”

Emily seems to take that as permission to continue because a hand at the back of Stephanie’s knee guides it up and over her shoulder and she bites her lip to muffle her groan as two fingers slide into her while a tongue laps at her clit.

She pries her eyes open to look down and manages to find a moment of amusement in that she can’t actually see Emily; her head is literally up Stephanie’s skirt and there’s something so hot about that that it makes her hips buck which makes Emily’s tongue and fingers move more quickly.

What she can see, however, are the feet of the people sitting a few feet away behind a curtain. She can see the legs of people who walk past the previously open side of the alcove.

And if she can see the feet of their neighbors, that means they can just as easily see her one black-stilettoed foot on the ground and Emily kneeling in front of her and she can actually feel herself become wetter at the thought.

She can hear it, too, even over her own heavy breathing and the white noise of the restaurant. Emily’s fingers are moving hard and fast, as is her tongue, and it’s audible how sloppy she is but she can’t help it. She can’t help what Emily does to her and she reaches down, under her skirt, to thread her fingers into Emily’s hair to hold on as she bucks her hips against her face again and again until she bites the back of her hand as she comes.

She feels Emily ease her through it which is almost a disappointment after the lack of mercy she’d been shown yesterday, but here and now is not the place or time to get that kind of unraveled.

When it passes, Emily sits back on her heels, still kneeling, though no longer hidden under Stephanie’s dress. Her fingers slip out but don’t leave her; they stay, teasing her clit in a way that sends tiny aftershocks through her.

“Oh, my God,” Stephanie whispers down at the look of pride smiling up at her; Emily’s chin is wet and she makes no moves to do anything about it. “I can’t believe…” She doesn’t finish the sentence because Emily’s fingers are starting to press gentle circles against her in a way that she knows Emily knows is key to her pleasure. “We have to stop.”

“You came so fast.” Emily’s voice is quiet but she’s not exactly whispering and it makes Stephanie tense in worry that someone might have heard. If they did, nothing happens. Her fingers are moving with more purpose and Stephanie’s sense of shame begins to dissipate again. “We have more time.”

It takes every iota of strength she has to reach down and push Emily’s hand away from her body. “Then stand up and let me return the favor,” she says, making a pointed reference to Emily’s suggestion that she’d been some sort of a pillow princess in college. She never was, and she never would be.

Emily does stand and Stephanie reaches to pull her down into a kiss. It’s hot and tastes like herself and she uses her tongue like Emily used hers on Stephanie. She rotates them in place until she has Emily pinned against the wall and that in itself is a turn-on for Stephanie. She tries to not get distracted, though. She lets Emily suck on her tongue as she blindly unbuttons Emily’s pants. She slips her hand into them as soon as they’re open to find Emily wet and swollen. She can feel the wetness on the back of her hand where it brushes against Emily’s pants and she moans into her mouth at how aroused she is.

“Fuck me,” Emily whispers between kisses and Stephanie nods as she pushes lace to the side with her thumb so she can sink her fingers into her. She holds them there, so deep the palm of her hand presses hard against Emily’s clit, and kisses her with desperation and need before she starts moving.

Emily hadn’t teased her so Stephanie doesn’t either. She fucks into her with short, hard, quick strokes. She has to stop after every few because it’s growing louder with how soaked she is.

But then Emily adjusts her stance, widening it and the slight extra space almost eliminates the sound if Stephanie stays aware of her angle. It almost results in her pants falling, though, and even if their feet may give away what they’re doing, pants around ankles would absolutely be damning. Stephanie grabs them with her free hand and holds them against Emily’s hip. They’re lower than they were and it gives her even more room and she pulls back from their kiss to watch Emily’s face as she withdraws, only to push back in with three fingers instead of two.

Her head falls back against the wall and a moan rumbles in her throat behind tightly pursed lips and Stephanie presses her mouth to that rumble, sucking at her neck as she fucks her just as hard and fast as she had been before the extra finger.

Emily’s starting to thrust back against her, an almost awkward desperate grinding circle in her upright position but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Stephanie is going to make this woman come in the middle of a restaurant and she doesn’t give a fuck if they get caught.

“Come for me.” She says it in full voice and it makes Emily’s eyes open in surprise followed by a lip-bitten moan. “Come for me, baby,” she repeats to make sure Emily knows she said it purposely.

She feels the tell-tale flutter around her fingers and can’t stop the knowing smile from curving her lips and she watches Emily fall apart against the wall of a restaurant.

Emily is silent in her orgasm but Stephanie knows it’s not without effort. The tension in her neck and arms tells her that much.

She keeps her fingers nestled deep until it’s over and Emily’s taking recovering breaths from her struggle to control herself. Stephanie can hear it when she removes her fingers and if it wasn’t so fucking hot she could find shame in it, but she feels like she may have just flushed the last bit of her shame down the drain.

It’s silent as they stare at one another, Emily still coming down from her high and Stephanie feeling like she’s at the top of her own. Then Emily stoops to kiss her, arms around Stephanie’s waist to pull her close. It’s passionate but soft and Stephanie doesn’t stop the quiet moan it generates.

When their lips part they both remain close and Stephanie can feel Emily’s quick breaths against her lips; they’re still dripping with desire and she takes an agonizing step backward to put space between them as she tugs Emily’s pants back into place. “We should go,” she says as she hurries back to her side of the table and the cloth napkin she feels terribly guilty about using to dry her hand even if she licks her fingers first (which she does).

“What?” Emily still sounds a little dazed but Stephanie knows she’s coming with a tease. “No dessert?”

“You just had dessert,” she tosses back, tongue still loose with its words as arousal lingers around them.

“Mmm, yes I did,” Emily purrs behind her and she knows the embrace is coming and melts into it, letting Emily hold her as soft, wet kisses trail along her neck. That’s when Emily’s hand wanders a different direction than before, this time up and into the cut-out of Stephanie’s dress and into her bra until she’s cupping her bare breast, nipple caught between her fingers to squeeze it.

She staggers forward a step, needing to throw her arm out against a wall but all it connects with is the curtain on her side of the booth and gives easily, pressing into the space of the people sitting there.

She freezes, an eternal second as she yanks her hand back and hears Emily chuckle in her ear before biting it, but nothing happens.

“Now we really need to go,” she says as she pulls Emily’s hand out of her dress and adjusts her breast back into its proper place before she turns. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like you just had your pussy eaten in the middle of dinner.”

She feels hot all over, all kinds of shame slamming back into her that was absent not a minute ago. But it’s also excitement at hearing the words, the reminder of what had happened, that it hadn’t been a fever dream or a fantasy (though she knows she will fantasize about this at least once). “That’s not helping,” she says as she futzes with her hair to smooth any spots that got riled up when she was pinned against the wall. “Fix your shirt,” she says with a nod at Emily. One side of her blouse is tucked into her pants, caught by accident when Stephanie buttoned them.

Emily glances down and pulls it out and then plucks it away from her back; Stephanie wonders if it was clinging to her from sweat.

“I can’t sit down or I’m going to ruin this dress,” she says quietly, feeling antsy that their server will return any minute to find them standing awkwardly around the table.

“Just sit; I’ll send it down to be dry cleaned tonight.” Emily sits down as she says it, as though she’s not already soaked her trousers.

“And if it soaks through, it will be totally visible,” she argues, gesturing at her dress to point out the dark-but-not-dark-enough color that will reveal any hint of moisture on the fabric.

“Then stand,” Emily says with a shrug as she leans forward to snag her curtain and pull it back and over the hook, not bothering to retie it.

Stephanie gasps and feels exposed even though her side is still closed and she’s dressed and nothing inappropriate is happening.

As though she’d been waiting, a thought that makes Stephanie’s stomach twist in a questionable way, their server returns seconds after Emily draws the curtain.

“How was everything?” she asks with a friendly smile.

“Mouth-watering, thank you,” Emily says with an equally friendly smile as she pulls a credit card from her purse to hand it to her rather than asking for the check. “And we’ll take the bottle home with us.”

“Of course; I’ll cork it for you.” She enters their space and smiles at Stephanie who dances awkwardly in place.

“Just stretching my legs,” she explains unnecessarily and she hopes it doesn’t smell like sex but she’s pretty sure it does.

“I’ll be right back,” the waitress says with a parting smile as she steps through the open half of the curtains and Stephanie exhales in relief.

It makes Emily laugh. “Calm down; even if she knows, she’d never say something. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. You’re giving me anxiety hovering like this.”

She doesn’t know why she didn’t think of that herself (probably because she was in an aroused state of panic). “Right. Good idea,” she says with a deep breath before stepping around the table and down the step to the main floor. She glances around until she spots a sign for the restrooms and makes her way on wobbly legs.

~ ~

~ ~

They’re laughing when they leave the restaurant hand in hand. If feels like they could be drunk but she knows they’re not; the bottle of wine in Emily’s free hand is still half-full. They’d gotten too distracted with each other to sit and drink.

There’s no one specific reason they’re laughing; it started as anxious giggles from Stephanie when the hostess said she hoped they’d come again and was worsened by Stephanie being bold and stopping them in the library (which was also the main bar area) to turn and kiss Emily in full view of the busy room. It had earned a couple male wolf-whistles but a girl yelling out something like, “Get that hot bitch, mama!” was what really set off the gigglefest.

“Which one of us is the hot bitch and which is the mama?” Stephanie asks when they part. Emily’s smiling so genuinely at her it drives her to pop up and kiss her one more time.

“Oh, you’re definitely the hot bitch,” Emily says after the kiss.

Stephanie has half a mind to argue that; she doesn’t hate her own appearance by any length of the imagination, but she knows Emily could have been a model if she’d wanted. “Thank you,” she says before grabbing her hand and leading them out of the restaurant and down the path to the sidewalk.

Emily must have notified their driver that they were on their way out because the black sedan rolls up less than a minute after they stopped. She hadn’t even had a chance turn around and start kissing Emily again.

It’s then that she decides it’s on each other that they’re drunk. With every touch and kiss and lingering look they share, Stephanie feels herself slipping deeper and deeper into a heady mix of lust and need and joy. It’s never been like this for them; their life together (if you can call it that) back home is stolen moments and secret rendezvous and maintaining façades of the happy family and the strong single mom. She feels like her old self, her college self, her pre-mommy brain self who she always thought was fun and carefree and not worried about how much processed sugar is in the cereal she has in her kitchen cupboard.

“Get in,” Emily says with a push from behind until they’re clumsily falling into the back seat of the car.

She expects the need to be proper and at least mostly platonic as they have been with the drivers (this is a different man than had driven them from the airport) but Emily all but falls on top of her once she’s closed the door to start making out with her, hot and heavy.

The driver pays them no mind and Stephanie forgets they’re not alone until Emily’s peeling herself away to leave the car and she notices they’re back at the hotel.

Emily doesn’t wait for her; she’s halfway through the lobby by the time Stephanie catches up with her, walking as quickly as she can on unsteady legs and four-inch platform stilettos. In fact, she passes her, rushing to the elevator to press the button and turn back with a lip-bitten, shy smile to lean against the wall next to the door hoping Emily takes her bait.

She does and they’re kissing like they were in the car, like they were in the restaurant, but now they’re in the hotel elevator bank.

It dings and as soon as she hears the doors open she slides out from Emily and into the blissfully empty elevator to do exactly what she’d wanted yesterday.

Emily follows and the doors aren’t even closed yet when Stephanie pulls her back into a kiss. She knows they don’t have that much time before they arrive at the eighteenth floor, so she’s quick about reaching under Emily’s shirt, nails scratching her back along the way until she finds and unhooks her bra. She hears Emily’s breathing change in response and she breaks their kiss to push the silky white blouse up, along with the loosened bra, so she can lean in and take Emily’s nipple into her mouth.

Her fingers tend to the other and she hears the sound of Emily's hand slamming against the wall next to her for support as she sags into Stephanie. Fingers weave into her hair, tight and a little controlling but they don’t pull her away. They push her closer and she hears Emily swear as she swirls her tongue and pinches her fingers.

She stops at the chime signaling their arrival and tugs Emily’s shirt back down, though with her bra unhooked it doesn’t sit right. That’s no matter, though; they don’t have far to go.

She leaves and Emily follows. She’s still digging for the keycard in her purse, something she regrets not having ready when they were still in the lobby when Emily pins her front against the locked door, hands under her skirt to grab at her ass. It’s bare, not that the thong covered it anyway, but that’s long gone and she has a suspicion it’s in Emily’s pocket. Emily’s mouth is on her neck and it’s making Stephanie see stars.

“I can’t...Em...let me...open it…” she gasps as one of Emily’s hands reaches between her legs from behind and just like that, they’re having sex in the hallway.

There’s a faint beep and suddenly she’s falling through the door into the dark hotel room and the heat of Emily is gone. She turns to see her with her own key in her hand which she drops to the floor as she steps out of her shoes.

She strides forward and Stephanie braces herself for what she hopes is about to happen. It’s a fantasy that’s fluttered around her brain for a few weeks and she lifts her arms to wrap them around Emily’s neck just as hands land on her hips and she gives a hop.

She wraps her legs around Emily’s waist and kisses her as she lets herself be carried through the suite.

A few seconds later she lands in the middle of the bed with the distinct feeling she had literally been thrown onto it. When she opens her eyes, Emily’s standing at the foot of the bed unbuttoning her blouse with quick fingers to cast it aside with the bra Stephanie had already unhooked. Her pants fall next along with black lace and Stephanie’s still dressed.

She starts to sit up to fix that but Emily’s already reaching for her ankle to slip her heel off, then the other.

“Turn over,” Emily says as she kneels on the bed and starts crawling toward her.

The sight makes Stephanie whimper but she does as she’s told and she feels the warmth and weight of Emily straddling her thighs.

Her skirt gets pushed up and she feels the cool air hit her skin only to be replaced by warm hands kneading her flesh and for a second, when Emily’s hands suddenly stop and one disappears, she thinks she’s going to be spanked.

The thought scares her and thrills her and she grips the pillow above her head waiting for it.

It doesn’t happen though. Instead, she feels the zipper on the back of her dress being lowered until it stops at her waist. Hands push the sides open and with a slight tug and release, she feels her bra unhooked. Part of her is disappointed; the bra really did make her breasts look amazing and she’d wanted Emily to see her in it but as she shoves at Stephanie’s dress to get her to work together to get her arms out of sleeves and straps she decides not to care.

It gets pulled down her body and she feels the comforting pressure of Emily lift as the dress gets pulled down her legs to be tossed somewhere, but the weight is back a second later. This time it’s heavier and she knows Emily’s leaning forward. Hands find her own and fingers weave together to push them into the mattress on either side of her head as teeth bite the curve of her neck.

She whines at the sting but it doesn’t hurt. Not one bit. She tilts her head to offer more of her skin to Emily’s mouth and it’s given immediately.

With it comes a subtle tilt of Emily’s hips against her ass that pushes her own hips into the bed and she moans. She’s been so turned on for so long now that the barest hints of pressure feel like so much more. She regrets letting her pleasure be known because it makes Emily continue it; she starts rolling her hips against her ass like she’s fucking her slowly. The pressure is so indirect that it’s maddening and Stephanie tries to spread her legs to tilt her hips at a sharper angle to at least try to let Emily grind her into the bed but she can’t, not with Emily’s legs framing hers the way they are.

She has to lie there and take it and the surrender makes her remember when she’d done this to Emily once. Only Emily had been tied up with Stephanie’s belt, though the way Emily has her hands pinned now is no different.

She hears Emily moan as her pace quickens. Teeth and lips and tongue start to move across Stephanie’s neck and shoulders and back in unpredictable ways and all of them make her shudder and groan.

“Want me to put it on?” Emily asks, voice warm at her ear as her tongue traces it.

Stephane’s entire body tenses as the offer; they way they both seem to feel right now, she knows Emily will absolutely wreck her tonight whether or not she has something strapped to her hips.

She shakes her head. “I just want you.”

The weight disappears again but the warmth stays. “Roll over.”

Hands help her as she struggles to, confined between Emily’s legs as she is. When she’s on her back she looks up to find Emily staring at her like she’s about to devour her whole and Stephanie thinks she’s more than okay with that.

Emily slides up a few inches and then she’s leaning down to fill Stephanie’s mouth with her tongue. The desperation is so hot and mutual that it makes her wrap her legs around Emily again to pull her hips down against her body.

It works and Emily’s rocking into her like she was before, but now it’s against Stephanie’s clit and she groans into the kiss as she tangles her fingers into Emily’s hair. “Don’t stop,” she breathes into her mouth before kissing her again. “Please, don’t stop.”

One of Emily’s hands reaches past her and Stephanie knows she’s just pressed it against the headboard behind her for leverage because all at once, the grinding doubles in pressure and pleasure and speed.

She can hear herself; her moans are high-pitched and whiny and she thinks she’s saying words but she doesn't know what they are. All she knows is Emily’s mouth on hers and her hips grinding her closer and closer to another orgasm.

“Shit...that...fast…” Those are words. She thinks. Is it a sentence? Maybe? Emily listens though and speeds up and Stephanie wrenches her mouth away from the kiss so she can breathe.

Emily’s lips move to her face and neck and whatever they can find.

It starts between her legs where Emily’s body rubs into her over and over and curls down through her legs and up through her stomach and chest into her mind. It feels out-of-body like she’s watching from above as Emily pushes her into orgasm.

She knows she’s loud; it feels like she’s making up for having to be silent at the restaurant and she can hear Emily’s words of encouragement in her ear, telling her, “Come for me, baby.”

Telling her, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Telling her, “You drive me fucking crazy.”

Telling her, “I love you.”

The clouds in her mind are blown away by the words she thinks she hears and she falls silent but the pleasure doesn’t stop; she’s still coming and she can’t move or speak or do anything but hold on to Emily to make sure she doesn’t leave.

When the tremors fade and she can open her eyes, all she can see is the ceiling and room around her. Emily’s face is next to hers; she can feel her labored breathing against her shoulder. Her back is warm and slick beneath Stephanie’s hands like it is always is when they do this and it’s not lost on her that Emily puts so much of herself into their lovemaking.

Wait.

“Emily?” her throat is parched and her voice is rough.

“Don’t.” It’s sharp and stern and she can feel Emily’s body tensing.

“But—”

Emily lifts her head and she’s wearing the same look of fear she was this morning. “I said, don’t.” She leans down and kisses Stephanie with bruising force. “Just fuck me.” Another kiss that’s difficult to keep up with. “Please, just fuck me.” Her voice is desperate with the second plea so Stephanie just nods.

“How?” she asks between kisses that are somehow growing even more demanding.

“I don’t care, just—” Emily’s voice breaks over the sentence and Stephanie opens her eyes to see her crying, eyes shut tightly to try to stop the tears that are already on her cheeks and falling onto Stephanie’s.

“Okay,” she says as she kisses her back. “Shh, it’s okay.” She kisses her again and brushes the tears away as she does so. “Lie down.”

Emily rolls off her to land on her back next to Stephanie and she quickly sits up to do her best to check on Emily without being aggravating but she’s too slow; Emily’s hands are covering her face and Stephanie honestly can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying behind them.

Whichever it is, she doesn’t want Stephanie seeing it so she ignores it and instead slides down the bed until she’s ducking under Emily’s leg to settle it over her shoulder as she lies between them. She keeps one hand on Emily’s thigh and the other parts wet flesh so her tongue can find her quickly.

“Fuck yes, baby.” Emily’s hips thrust up at her so Stephanie pushes them back down, having to use her elbow since her hands are both occupied.

She licks at her quickly and then remembers how amazing Emily made her feel last night. She slides her tongue down and slips it into her, hot and wet and she feels Emily’s body clench around it and they both moan. She decides to keep it there and the fingers that are holding her open switch to start rubbing the clit she’d been licking.

Emily won’t stop writhing and she gives up trying to keep her still. It’s clear she’s working on taking whatever she needs and Stephanie does her best to give it to her until she’s pushing on the back of Emily’s thigh just as had been done to her. It tilts Emily’s hips up and makes it easier to keep her tongue inside her and Emily reacts so strongly Stephanie thinks she’s about to come.

Instead, Emily’s pulling away from her until she’s on her knees, leaving Stephanie dumbfounded.

“Get up here and lie down,” Emily says with a point to the bed and it makes Stephanie’s blood run even hotter.

She crawls up and turns over and she’s already tucking her arms between Emily’s legs as they straddle her face to bring her down and onto her tongue.

Emily leans back but grabs the headboard for support and starts moving, hips grinding forward again and again as she rides Stephanie’s tongue.

The view, Stephanie muses as she groans at how good Emily tastes tonight, is not unlike that of the painting that hangs in Emily’s home. She drags her nails down Emily’s arched back, then wraps an arm around Emily’s hip so she can get her fingers on her again, slipping back and forth across her clit.

“Fuck, baby,” she groans and Stephanie can feel her trembling and knows she’s close so she doesn’t falter her rhythm.

For the briefest of moments, her own arousal dares her to reach down and touch herself so they can come together, but not now, not this time. This is only for Emily who deserves Stephanie’s complete and undivided attention as she stiffens her tongue and pushes it up as far as she can. It’s not easy, Emily’s body clenching and almost pushing it out but she pushes back.

“Oh, God. Fuck. Fuck!” Emily’s body shifts and she falls forward to hold herself up with the headboard. It pulls her off Stephanie’s tongue and the angle isn’t right anymore so she quickly adjusts, catching her clit between her lips to suck on it, hard, as she slides fingers into her instead to give her something solid to bear down on.

She opens her eyes to take in the view and sees Emily already staring down at her, watching intently. Stephanie moans because that’s all she can do right now and Emily moans in response, hips pushing down so hard that Stephanie’s grateful there’s no pillow beneath her head to hinder it.

Emily’s eyes are open as she comes.

Stephanie has no idea how she does it. She’s coming so hard that her voice is making Stephanie’s ears ring. So hard that it’s running down her hand and dripping on her neck. But Emily’s eyes don’t leave hers, not for a second of what seems like an endless climax.

She’s never experienced anything like it and her body betrays her determination because with one desperate shift of her thighs her own body rocks into orgasm and she sees the effect of it on Emily’s face as she fights to keep her eyes open as Emily did. Her eyes flash and her lips start to smile and Stephanie whines pitifully in what she means to be an apology but something tells her she needn’t be sorry.

When it’s over, when they’re both quiet save for labored breathing, Stephanie lets her eyes fall closed. Her brain is trying to process the evening and it’s a dizzying summary of events as it catalogs the memories. It manages to file away the food and the wine and the laughs and the sex but leaves one thing bouncing around like a pinball. Three words that she knows she heard. Three words Emily immediately tried to pretend didn’t exist. Three words that Stephanie has been thinking about for a while.

She feels Emily move off her and with it comes cool air against her skin that’s wet with sweat and with Emily and it drives alertness into her like a shot of adrenaline and she starts to sit up.

“Oh, God,” Emily says, voice still gravely but no longer winded. “Look at you.”

Stephanie looks at Emily, not herself, and finds her sitting up against the headboard looking lazy and sated. “What about me?”

Emily leans forward with a smile and cups her jaw in a way Stephanie thinks might be in advance of a kiss but instead, it swipes down her chin and neck all the way to her chest and she can feel the slickness of arousal being wiped from her skin. She watches Emily rub her hand over her own thigh and the lust that is still in her head dares her to lean down and lick it. But she doesn’t.

“You are fucking incredible. That’s what.” Emily leans over and kisses her and Stephanie starts moving into Emily’s lap whether she wanted her there or not.

Stephanie plays with messy blonde hair; it’s more wild than ever and she smiles to herself as she combs her fingers through it in a way that gently tugs Emily’s head back, but not in any way that would cause a sting. Emily’s arms settle around her waist and Stephanie can’t help but think how easy this all is.

“We’re so good together,” Stephanie starts. She needs to revisit what Emily’s said. Desperately. And she doesn’t want her to bolt.

“Yeah, we are,” Emily says with a smile and Stephanie jumps as fingers pinch her ass playfully.

“Who’d have ever thought?” Stephanie chuckles before leaning in to steal a kiss because it feels right. “Thank you for inviting me on this trip.” She kisses her and settles into it this time, teasing her way into Emily’s mouth until the temperature starts to rise again. Until she’s rocking slowly in Emily’s lap. Until Emily’s hands are on her breasts.

She lets her lips travel from Emily’s, along her jaw and over her cheek and down to her neck where they make Emily shiver, and up to her ear to confess as Emily had.

“I love you, too,” she whispers before moving back to kiss Emily before she can do anything else.

She’s ready for it when Emily tries to push her off her. She locks her arms around her neck and holds on. They’re still kissing but she’s not forcing Emily to. Hands shove at her hips and knees to try to push Stephanie backward but they don’t try hard enough. There’s no way Emily couldn’t overpower Stephanie if she needed to. They keep pushing at her and Stephanie can hear the frustration in the sounds Emily makes until she’s being pulled in, closer and closer until she can scarcely breathe with how strongly Emily’s arms are wrapped around her, with how hard she’s being kissed.

As suddenly as it shifted from rejection to desperate connection it breaks and Stephanie takes a gasping breath as Emily’s head drops to her chest and the crying starts.

It’s serious this time, uncontrollable sobs that wrack Emily’s body as she clings to Stephanie.

Stephanie holds her, one hand on her head and the other stroking gently up and down her back. She doesn’t shush her or tell her it’s okay. She wants to let Emily cry as much as she needs to because, Stephanie suspects, she almost never allows it to happen.

Her heart aches as much as it swells; she’s felt like she’s waited a lifetime to feel this way about a person. She didn’t even know that she was missing out on anything until Emily started creeping further and further into her life. Tonight, the final piece of the puzzle settled into place and she feels whole. She cries, too, her tears falling into Emily’s hair when she kisses the top of her head.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes pass before Emily’s sobs subside. Stephanie knows she’s already trying to figure out how to hide or explain away what just happened and she won’t have that. Not anymore. She’s tired of Emily hiding.

“Hey,” she says as she tilts Emily’s flushed, tear-stained face up toward hers. She kisses her and then kisses her again, and when she pulls back and Emily starts to speak, she kisses her once more. After that one, Emily doesn’t seem ready to defend the moment their lips part so Stephanie slowly, gently eases herself out of her embrace until she’s standing. She reaches for Emily’s hands and pulls her up, too. “Take a shower with me.”

Emily just nods and follows as Stephanie walks backward to lead them around the bed and into the bathroom. The only light she turns on is the one associated with the exhaust fan so they have just enough light to not trip.

She has to let go of one of Emily’s hands to open the glass door of the shower and turn on the faucet for both shower heads but she keeps hold on the other to make sure she doesn’t flee. She’s never felt something so delicate before as Emily’s current state. She imagines if a butterfly were to land on her shoulder right now, she would shatter.

She waits until the water runs warm and then steps in, pulling Emily with her and she’s relieved when Emily reaches behind herself to pull the door closed. It means she’s aware despite it seeming a bit like she’s in a trance.

The water hits Stephanie first and she hovers for a few seconds, tilting her head until the water has her hair slicked back and out of her face. “Okay, come on.” She pulls Emily into it next and the distance is just right that the second fixture rains warmth on Stephanie’s back.

She watches Emily’s eyes close as the water hits and her head tilts back in the autopilot kind of way one has in the shower. She soaks her hair and then drops Stephanie’s hand. It makes her panic for a second but all Emily does is turn to put her face under the spray and rub her hands over it.

When she lifts her head again she turns to look at Stephanie, she looks more like herself than she had a few seconds ago. “Come ‘ere,” Emily says with a soft smile as she reaches for Stephanie and pulls her into her space to kiss her.

Stephanie’s surprised, to say the least. Emily seemed so out of it just moments ago but now she’s kissing her with renewed energy and Stephanie feels herself getting lifted again. She wraps her legs around Emily and hisses as cold tile presses into her back. It heats up quickly, though, stoked by Emily’s lips and hands that grip her ass to support her and her body that brushes against what is still aroused.

Emily breaks their kiss and Stephanie’s lips chase hers only for them to be out of reach. She whines and opens her eyes and sees Emily watching her. Emily licks her lips, a move that makes Stephanie wet her own, and then she can see the nervousness in Emily’s eyes again. She’s about to tell her it’s okay when—

“I love you.”

Emily says it like she’s trying it on for size and as soon as the words are past her lips she exhales as though relieved.

Stephanie smiles. She’s feeling giddy now. “I love you, too.”

Emily starts to smile, too. “I love you.”

Stephanie laughs and touches a hand to her cheek and watches in awe as Emily leans into the touch. “I love you, too.”

Emily’s smile splits into a grin and she surges forward to kiss Stephanie. It makes her head connect painfully with the wall and she actually groans and turns away from the kiss because of the ache.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?” Emily says with a laugh that’s laced with concern. One of her hands comes up to cradle the back of Stephanie’s head.

The throb in her skull quickly fades when she opens her eyes to see the way Emily’s watching her and waiting for an answer and she nods. “Never better,” she breathes before pulling Emily back into the kiss.

She’s in love. They’re in love. Stephanie’s never romantically loved someone so fiercely in her life and it scares her as much as it thrills her. Admitting it out loud and knowing it’s mutual seems to have tripled her feelings. She starts crying again, tears of happy disbelief that get washed away and as blissful as she feels, she can’t stop the one thought nagging her.

For as much as she loves Emily, she knows almost nothing about her.

She’ll work on that next. Right now is not the time, because right now, Emily’s guiding Stephanie’s hand down and between her own legs in what is a very clear instruction to touch herself.

She moans against Emily’s mouth as their fingers move together over her clit and it echoes around them, amplified in a way that makes Emily smile. The smile triggers a need to tease in Stephanie and she licks at Emily’s lips before parting long enough to ask, “What were their names?”

Emily seems confused. “Whose names?”

“Exactly,” Stephanie breathes before kissing her again.

Emily seems to figure it out after a few more seconds because she gets a pretty harsh thrust of her hips to shove her harder against the wall with what might be an attempt at cursing her out, but Emily’s mouth is too busy with Stephanie’s to enunciate.

“We’re not sleeping tonight,” Stephanie states when there’s a second to breathe. She always feels insatiable with Emily but tonight is something else entirely. There are no words for the level of desire she has.

“No,” Emily agrees as she stoops to get her mouth on Stephanie’s breast. The angle isn’t great so Stephanie lifts it for her to help.

“We should finish showering so we can get back in bed where this is easier,” she says with a laugh that turns into a moan when her own fingers grind just right.

Emily lets her breast slip from her lips and she straightens. “Not until you make yourself come.”

“Gladly,” Stephanie says with a nod, moving quicker.

“God, I’m going to fuck you all night,” Emily growls, eyes dark and predatory and though Stephanie had been getting close it yanks her right over the edge with a cry.

“That’s it, baby.” She feels Emily’s hands stroking the backs of her thighs until she’s quiet and being lowered to stand on her own feet.

Stephanie leans against her, still catching her breath, and shivers when Emily’s hands seem to be everywhere, on her head and face and shoulders and breasts and stomach and ass and arms and it’s almost finished when she realizes there’s a loofah in her hand and Emily’s bathing her.

“Oh, wow,” she says dumbly as she watches Emily’s hands on her breasts and then they move down until the loofah’s between her legs, gentle and soft as she’s guided under the shower to rinse off. She’s also given the wonderful view of Emily doing the same to herself, all soapy lather and hands swirling over her own body until they’re washing down the drain.

Emily shuts off the water after a couple more minutes and they wring their hair and smile over fluffy white towels as they dry off and then try to dry each other off in what almost devolves into a wrestling match until Emily has Stephanie thrown over her shoulder—which Stephanie protests endlessly but secretly loves—to carry her out of the bathroom and back to bed where, this time, Emily pulls the duvet and sheet down before dropping Stephanie onto it with a squeal.

Emily’s on top of her a second later and they’re kissing. They’ve kissed so much Stephanie’s lips almost ache but she can’t stop, won’t stop for anything, except to say, “I love you,” and to smile when Emily replies, “I love you, too.”

~ ~

~ ~

Chapter 11

[spoons4spoonies]

Story Time

My secondary school holds a leaving ball for Year 13 students every June after exams are finished. It is a lavish affair with free champagne and a private bar and is run jointly with the boy’s school. The tickets are expensive even if you choose to be sober (like me) or are underage (like a few of my friends), but it’s the last time you will see many of your peers and teachers. Unless of course you are the type to find endless excuses to come back to visit, and are also the type of student that the school wants to visit. It will not surprise you to know that I am both.

Anyway, though there is not technically a dress code (evidenced by the fact that one boy turned up in a long vest as some kind of joke that showed off an unseemly proportion of his chest hair and was skin tight in a very unflattering manner) most girls wear ball gowns and high heels. I myself chose to wear scarlet high heels – the kind that you only wear if you plan to be sitting down most of the evening – and a beautiful dress I’d bought in a sale from my favourite shop. It was black velvet (or velvet style, real velvet no doubt costs more than thirty pounds) with a wide skirt patterned with flowers and birds in gold and red and green thread. My sister was even convinced to wear makeup and do her hair for her ball, probably one of three times I have ever seen her wear eyeshadow.

For many years, it had been tradition for the leaving ball to be held on a river boat on the Thames. No doubt this was the decision of the boy’s school as they had control over all these things. (Just a little casual sexism, but that’s for another day). I had heard many stories about this notorious boat; people getting travel sick from the turbulence, people breaking ankles and other bones falling over getting into the boat (I.e. before they were even drunk! That’s high heels for you I suppose) and of it generally being a bit of a hazard. My sister was certainly fairly unimpressed by it.

As someone who could get motion sick on a bicycle, it is something of an understatement to say I was relieved when they decided to host it in the Museum of London for my year. Though I have to say I didn’t trust my peers to act sensibly around the exhibits once drunk.

I got my hair done that afternoon and my aunt arrived to look after me (I may have been eighteen but even at twenty I am still not entirely trusted on my own) as my parents and sister were attending her graduation ceremony in Cambridge. She received a double first, another in a long line of academic achievements that I will never fail to be proud of her for. I am sad that I couldn’t be there too, but with my energy levels it wouldn’t have been manageable.

I travelled to the ball in style in a black cab with my friend and neighbour who we shall call Corporal for their time spent in the Army cadets. They were wearing a tailored suit bought for them by their godmother that had a Praedae Causa embroidered under the collar – a Latin phrase that we translated to mean “For the sake of the booty”. A very private school joke.

For the first hour we gathered in an upstairs hall where the free champagne was delivered and tap water was surprisingly hard to come by. It was here that our teachers joined us (some for the free alcohol I suspect) and mingling was encouraged. My main concern was the lack of chairs, given my shoes and the weakness of my legs (though I had not yet been diagnosed with POTS at this point, I knew far too well how little I liked standing up for long periods of time). But I remember getting lots of praise for my outfit, something I bask in, and trying to get as many photos as possible with my friends.

A, one of my Kpop friends, was wearing a beautiful traditional sarong in red and gold and had huge false eyelashes on that greatly suited her. I believe this was before she shaved her head for charity so she would have had her long curly hair. N was wearing a lovely red dress – unusual for her – that she had some trouble ordering as the company got the measurements wrong and sent a damaged version. But she looked stunning regardless and she had the luck to be going with her girlfriend – they are still together, and are definitely what one might call couple goals.

Then we were carefully directed downstairs to another room with big, round tables and a section for dancing at the far end. The music they were playing wasn’t the best, as for licensing reasons they could only play covers of pop songs. Mostly I wish they wouldn’t play music at all during dinner as one can’t hear the conversation at all.

First course couldn’t come soon enough – by this point I was starving! – it was gravlax and grapefruit in not exactly generous portions. Luckily, my friends didn’t like raw fish, so I had several helpings! The main course was beef and potato dauphinoise, and again I had several helpings as N had just stopped eating dairy. Then came pudding, the best part of any meal, which was a chocolate brownie, ice cream and some coffee flavoured mousse that I immediately passed off to someone else. I ended up eating more than one brownie, so all in all I certainly got my money’s worth.

Then it was time to dance, and you can bet I was one of the first up on the dancefloor! I had decided that since this was a onetime occasion and I had nowhere to be for the next few days, I might as well go full out and enjoy myself. I naively assumed that I could ignore my energy limits.

After three years, you’d have thought I would have learnt by now…

But I was not to be stopped and I dropped it low on the dancefloor – much easier with high heels as the leg muscles have less work to do – to some classic 2012 hits and spun and jumped and shimmied my way into an asthma attack.

I should clarify at this point that I do not actually have asthma (though I shouldn’t tempt the devil by saying such things) but I had clearly pissed off my body sufficiently that it resorted to drastic measures. It had tried to warn me gently a few times that enough is enough – aching feet, stitch, out of breath, slight back pain, heartbeat out of control, dizziness… I could go on – but since I had ignored all the warning signs it had started banging pots and pans together to get my attention.

Now that I was quite short of breath and it had reached ten thirty, I decided that I had had my fun and that it would be a sensible time to catch a taxi home. Then my breath decided to get a little shorter despite drinking water and sitting down and I began to panic ever so slightly. I went upstairs to get a little cool air, having said my goodbyes to many and various, and was lucky enough to come across E – another Kpop friend and my spoonie buddy – who immediately proffered her inhaler.

This helped with the breathing situation, but it was becoming alarmingly clear that my body was not even halfway done with its little tantrum. For at that moment, I started to come out in hives. Now, this was not the first time I had experienced that dreadful, full body itch of despair and past mistakes – many a nut reaction had induced the same effect. However, I could not for the life of me figure out why I was being cursed with it today.

I had specifically requested a nut free meal, and double checked every course. Hell, I had even eaten two and a half brownies! (Not that that is much of an indication as I have been known to have terrible self-restraint at times). I had no other symptoms (which I suppose I must be thankful for) so it couldn’t have been a nut reaction.

I hastily took some piriteze (I carry them with me everywhere in anticipation of future stupidity) and geared myself up for going home. I was faced with a walk through the dark to the nearest busy road to find a taxi, or waiting long enough for my parents to come pick me up (by this time they had returned from Cambridge). Neither seemed appealing due to the heel situation and my desperation to crawl out of my own skin respectively. I did not feel I could wait any longer before getting in a hot shower and dousing myself in Aloe Vera, but I also suddenly had no energy.

Thankfully help arrived in the form of E’s father as she had also decided to call it a night, and in her naturally mother hen way had taken it upon herself to get me home safe. He drove us back to my house to drop me off and I was hastily bundled into the shower by a loving mother. Soon enough I was back in a cool bed and significantly less itchy.

It was only later, when I mentioned the whole debacle to my specialist, that she revealed the source of my suffering: mould and dust. That’s right ladies, gentlemen and non-binary babes, I had an allergic reaction to a museum.

Not my finest moment.

-Mod H