#i love my little rancid guys

[godsworstson]

bitches be like "get out i need to go to my mind palace" and the mind palace is a pinterest board with over 500 photos of rancid men

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

dead fish eyes meets crazy eyes :33 oughhhhhh i adore them they’re so mentally ill

[krussyarts]

they are WRESTLING get your mind out of the gutter, this is just a bit of wrestling between best enemies

[hirokiyuu]

scaramouse in my house :)

[qeyond]

LawLight au where L is a shinigami and ends up sacrificing his life for Light

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[meiieiri]

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: toji will never forget the first night he spent away from the zenin clan and the day he met you.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: saw you in a dream, timeless | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse but generally pretty much a fluff fic where toji and y/n meet for the first time. | a/n: finally launching my little love project called “hidden inventory: the lost tapes”! 🍒

Now isn’t this just perfect?

Toji’s is just one inconvenience away from just going back to the Zenin clan with his tail between his legs. First, he underestimates just how expensive living in Tokyo is so, with what little pocket money his emotionally distant mother gave him before he left the estate, the first thing he does is spend it all on a girl — in broad daylight — he’s heard his brother, Jinichi, talk about those cute little call girls that crawl the streets of Kabukichō with flyers in their hand for thirty-minute “massages”. Naturally, as a young man who is only first experiencing the carnal joys the city has to offer, Toji was curious and he took the bait.

A bait that cost him ¥30,000 and the girl was unfortunately sloppy at best.

Now, he doesn’t have money to buy so much as a soggy red bean pancake for dinner. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around this dingy part of Shinjuku but as long as the red light district’s trashy ambience is distracting him from the growling of his stomach, then, he’ll stumble around this hellhole until morning.

“Ha! You won’t even last two minutes out there!” That’s what Naobito Zenin, the head of the clan said to him when he left. “Only two things await you when you get out of here, either you’ll die hungry or a cursed spirit will get to you first — either way, you’ll die with your eyes wide open with no one!”

Overrun by his thoughts, Toji doesn’t even notice that he accidentally intruded on a random cockroach and curse-infested alleyway that apparently belonged to some junkie who is now angrily telling him to get lost. “I was just looking for a place to sit down,” Toji scoffs. Weren’t they both bottom feeders in this city? Why was this rancid-smelling meth addict acting like he’s any better than him?

“Well, go sit somewhere else, this place is off-limits!”

It was almost funny how Toji thought that the world beyond the gates of the Zenin estate was any better than the shit show he was born into.

He should have known better than to be enticed by the glitz and glamour of living independently from his abusive family who at least had the decency to feed him maggoty rice from the estate’s second storehouse dedicated to prepare the animals’ food. They also gave him shelter, of course, he’s had to live in the Zenin estate’s shed for a while now since his father discovered he was born useless without an ounce of cursed energy. But at least he was warm, and the termites made him feel less lonely.

He continues on in his aimless quest. The night is still young. There’s plenty of time for self-depreciating introspection.

Hopefully, that grade three cursed spirit that’s been following him around the block for a while now gets to him first before the rain does.

“That guy over there,” your coworker whispers to you from the cash registers. “He’s been there for a while now and he hasn’t ordered anything.”

You look up from your pocketbook, your eyes curiously trained on the rugged looking man whose eyes were downcast, trained on the service water he requested from the counter when he came in. As if he could feel a pair of eyes on him, he looks up, and glances your way for a bit but you quickly hide your face behind your book.

“He kinda looks like trouble, no? Shady too, just look at the scar on his lip…”

“It’s not fair to judge someone like that, Rika-chan,” you whispered to your junior, turning to arrange the menus, painstakingly wiping each one clean with a cloth dampened with sanitizer. A small smirk appears on Toji’s lips at your passive defense of his character and as if to goad you on, he drums his fingertips against the table daring you to say another word. “Anyway, I’ll handle closing the shop tonight. You need to get home since you have class in a few hours.”

That seemed sudden. Rika looks at you funnily before shrugging off her apron in favor of her raincoat. “Well, alright, if you insist. Should I clean up the kitchen at least?”

“I’ll handle it,” you give her a thumbs up, waving her goodbye as she leaves through the backdoor. Now that you’re alone, you could hardly stop yourself from glancing at the mysterious man, and Toji himself wonders if his presence here is starting to turn into a nuisance. You were probably waiting for him to step out so you could close shop for the night but it’s raining hard right now and there are no other places open nearby to take shelter in.

The chair’s feet screeches against the wooden floorboards and you head to the restaurant’s kitchen. Toji stares at your retreating form, looks like he overstayed his welcome. He searches around for a few coins to give to you for your hospitality, of course, it probably doesn’t mean jack shit, but you must have known he didn’t have enough money for a meal when he came in here. You would have realized that immediately. But you allowed him to stay regardless.

You return a couple of minutes later with a bowl miso soup with ginger pork gyoza and shredded cabbages. You set the bowl down in front of him and Toji is thoroughly taken aback, he looks at you dumbfounded. “I don’t have any money,” his voice comes out a little gruffly but you barely flinch at the sharp edge of his tone.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Refilling his water, you explained that while you could have easily stuffed those leftovers back in the freezer, customers wouldn’t want to eat frozen food, so, you decide to heat these items up to give to him instead. “Oh,” Toji answers a little dumbly. “Or you could have thrown them out.” He stares at the sumptuous meal in front of him. Even in the Zenin estate, he never had such good food laid out in front of him before and it was surreal to see a stranger do the things his family should have done for him.

You return to the counter, leaning on your forearms as you engage in light banter with him. “You’re saying I should feed rats over people?” you chuckled, sitting back down, smiling softly when Toji gingerly bringing the bowl of miso soup to his lips, the rich earthy broth warming his throat that he lets out a content sigh.

He smirks at your little remark. “I’m saying you shouldn’t make a habit of feeding strays.” He polishes his soup bowl clean within minutes and you have to remind him to slow down every now and then as you watched him eat ravenously. “You never know when you could get that dainty hand of yours bitten off.”

You blushed pink at that. He was right, being too generous could cost you dearly one day but being the altruistic soul that you are, you’ll probably continue to be graciously selfless despite the risk of being taken advantage of. It’s just how you are as a person who believes that a little kindness can make the world better than it was yesterday. “I…don’t really know about that…whether I get bitten or not by the people I help isn’t really something I can control. The world would be better off if people just learned to be kind to one another.”

Toji hums at your naive countenance, folding his arms over the table. The room is silent for a few minutes save for the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t ya?”

“And you’re a pessimist,” you answered, quirking an amused eyebrow at him. “Who doesn’t even know how to say thank you.” You stand up to clear out the table, a teasing glint in your eyes as your curious orbs collide.

Toji scoffs, leaning against his seat, crossing his legs. At his reluctance, you shake your head, giggling softly. What an infuriating interesting guy. Toji hears the rushing of tap water from behind the counter and he smiles inwardly. The rain begins to slowly stop and he takes this window of opportunity to leave.

You don’t even try to hide your disappointment when you come back to the dining room only to find it empty, the stranger having left nothing in his wake — not a goodbye, not a thank you, and certainly not his name — except a single rusty five yen coin on the table.

Clang-dong!

“Hello, welcome—“ You stop mid-sentence. Your throat constricting with a mix of emotions, the most dominant one being joy at this happy chance, you’d recognize those sharp dark green eyes anywhere despite only first seeing them a week ago. After all, they looked so dangerously beautiful under the dim light of the dining room’s ceiling lampshade. “—back. Welcome back,” you smiled brightly at Toji.

Toji nods, his hand coming up to cover his lips as he coughs once. “Thanks…ah, right — shit, where is it?” After rummaging around his parachute jacket’s many pockets, he finally takes out his wallet and you look at him, bewildered, when he hands a few hundred yen bills to you. “For last week. Sorry I couldn’t pay you back then.”

“It’s fine.” You take his larger, calloused hand and return the money which Toji responds to by stubbornly placing it on the table.

Toji pinches the bridge of his nose when you playfully return the gesture by rolling it up and placing it in his jacket pocket, buttoning it. “Look, it was real nice of you to treat me back then, but I’m not a charity case, alright? I just wanna pay my dues.”

“Then, a simple ‘thank you’ is enough.” Toji just couldn’t understand you. You have absolutely no reason to be nice to him, but you are. For a moment, he begins to fall into the enticing thought that maybe life outside the Zenin estate won’t be too bad after all if there are people like you still around just waiting at random corners to be found in joyful happenstances such as waiting out a storm at a random family-style restaurant over a heartwarming serving of miso soup with tender pieces of gyoza and cabbage.

Relenting, he smirks at you, unable to figure you out. “Thank you.”

“Anyway, need a table for lunch?” you smiled warmly at him as you lead him to the table he sat in a week ago which you now affectionately refer to as ‘his’ table instead of table number four.

Toji nods following your lead and chuckling when you hand him the menu. “Where’s that thing I had last time?“ he oddly flips through the booklet.

“Oh uh…it’s not on the menu actually, but I could make that for you if you’d like.”

“Sounds good.” Toji hands you back the menu. You are just about to scurry away to the kitchen when he calls out to you. “So, do you have a name or should I just keep referring to you as gyoza girl or something?” Embarrassed at the way your knees seem to become weak at his boyish grin, you have to take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him again. “I’m Toji.”

He doesn’t say his last name. He doesn’t feel the need to anymore now that he’s finally closing the door to his past. You nod, noting how the name suited him. It’s brief but strong, muted but loud in its rhythm. Toji. At that moment, you find it impossible to name a prettier sound. After a few excruciating minutes in the kitchen, you come back out with two bowls of miso soup this time around and you sit down on the chair directly in front of him.

“Y/N.”

Toji repeats the melody of your name in his head. “And how much do I owe ya for this, Y/N?”

You shrugged as the two of you dig in, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you chew the steamed gyoza, joining him as he laughs (well, he’s scoffing more than actually laughing, really), his eyes alight with wonder, when you simply say, “Five yen.”

[springseasonie]

I'm a Mouse, Duh! | LJN + NJM (M)

Roommate Jeno x fem reader x roommate Jaemin, Halloween party trope, pure filth

Summary: Nomin in police costumes and Y/N in a "mouse" costume (it's literally just lingerie). Will they fuck? Keep reading to find out! (the answer is yes) (the title is a mean girls reference if you didn't notice btw)

Warnings: sexual content, dom Jeno, dom Jaemin, oral (fem and male receiving), Eifel tower 😖, spiting, cum eating, ass eating, butt stuff (it's my first time writing this don't judge too hard), double penetration, slight crying kink

Word count: 8,3k

Song recs: needs by tinashe

A/N: the drought is over!!! I have posted. This is my kinktober thing bcs I've been too busy with life so I hope y'all like this even though it's a bit rushed. This can kinda be like a "the walls are thin" special episode if you will. Also tysm for 800 followers (even though I'm barely posting). Feedback is loved and appreciated 🤍🤍

"Can you please hurry up? The party started an hour ago," Jaemin yelled from the living room.

"Don't rush me. You want me to look nice right? Be patient," you yelled back, applying the red lipstick carefully. You checked your hair in the mirror one last time, fixing your lashes as you leaned into your vanity.

"I'm sure you look fine. Hurry, I want to get there before they run out of beer," Jeno yelled.

"Gosh, I'm coming," you said, grabbing your bag. You opened your room door, heels clicking as you walked out the both of them sitting on the couch. You stared at them, face contorting in confusion. "Cops? Really?"

They turned to you, staring at you for a little longer than they should've. Your outfit was definitely something beyond scandalous. Lace lingerie, fishnets, heels, and a headband. Jaemin swallowed hard, eyes scraping every inch of your body. The obscene 'costume' hugged your body like it was made for you. And your lips looked great in red. He always loved the color on you. Jeno didn't hide his emotions like Jaemin did though. He was always shameless. Letting you know how good you look even on days where you weren't very dressed up. Jeno had always been attracted to you. Both of them were, making being roommates with them very hard at times.

"That's your costume," Jaemin questioned, eyes scanning you once again stopping at your cleavage.

"Yes it is."

"And what are you supposed to be," Jeno continued.

"I'm a mouse," you said, pouting at the headband. "Duh."

Jeno chuckled at your answer, raking his hands through his hair as he stared at you. "If I were to guess, I'd probably say playboy model."

"Ha ha very funny," you mumbled. "Anyway, I'm ready. Are you both going to keep sitting there staring or do you wanna go?"

"Yeah, the party, right." Jaemin pulled out his phone, ordering Uber for the three of you. You all walk outside, standing in front of your apartment. Tonight, the biggest frat of your university was going to throw a Halloween party. They're known for having the best parties, so this one shouldn't be short of excitement. You were hoping and praying to get laid tonight after a 4 month dry spell. You needed action, no matter where you got it from.

Hopefully, your dream could come true. It shouldn't be that hard right? After all, it was Halloween.

-

You definitely were not gonna get laid tonight. Half of the frat is already piss drunk, the sports bros are hooking up or going home early, all the hot guys are with their girlfriends. It looked like luck was in fact not on your side. In moments like these you would nuzzle into one of your friends arms and complain but they were all off doing whatever for the night. Now it was just you and the red solo cup full of various alcoholic beverages mixed together. The drink was rancid, but it would have you loose in no time to help you get comfortable.

Funny thing about it was you'd probably never be comfortable. You definitely did not have the most outrageous outfit in the house, but the eyes that lingered on you made you feel like you did. This costume was completely out of your norm. Every other Halloween, Jeno and Jaemin would dress up as something funny, but this time you wanted to take a bit of a break. Now that break is costing you foot pain, forcing you to stand in the corner in 5 inch heels for an hour and a half.

You stopped your drink, trying your best to avoid the gaze of the men who migrated around the house. But there was one gaze you couldn't shake no matter how much you tried. Jaemin watched you from the other side, eyes scanning your body like they did hours prior. He was so attracted to you it made him crazy. This was probably the first time he felt like he needed you. There were times where he walked in on you accidentally, saw you in underwear, but nothing could compare to this.

You stood there, gorgeous as ever, in the sexiest clothes ever, tiny bits of skin peeking through the lace making his mind wild. And now that he had just the right amount of alcohol in his system, he could finally do something about it.

You didn't notice Jaemin walking towards you, so when you heard him speak, you jumped a bit.

"Y/N," he said, making you turn around.

"God, you scared me," you laughed. You watched him lean on the wall, one hand on his cup and the other in his pocket. His eyes hung low, lips curved into a smile as he stared at you.

"Ah, sorry. Didn't mean to." Jaemin sipped his drink, licking his lips as he continued to look at your cleavage. "I didn't tell you earlier but… you look great tonight."

The way his eyes went from your lips to your chest didn't go unnoticed. "You didn't have to tell me, you've been staring since we got here," you say. You thought that would probably throw him off his game but to your surprise, all he did was grin and laugh.

"So you noticed?"

"Of course I noticed. Everyone's been staring at me. Am I that naked," you question.

"Do you feel naked?"

"I do when you look at me like that," you laugh. Jaemin's eyes were always the thing that told you the most. He could've lied and said you look ridiculous but his expressions never lie. He didn't know, but you always felt vulnerable under his stare. Like he could do anything and everything. And you would definitely let him.

"If you wanna fuck me, just say so," you joke. You brought the cup to your lips, drinking the party battery acid. Your eyes were locked on his, the tension between you both becoming thicker and thicker by the second. For a minute, you forgot that you were in a room full of people because all you wanted to do was rip that costume off him and give him what he was begging for.

Jaemin watched you as you pulled the cup away from your lips, lipstick staining the plastic. A drop of the liquid remained on your lip, the sight making Jaemin swallow hard. All he could think about was that pretty lipstick being in places it shouldn't be. Jaemin reached up, tilting your chin to him softly as he took his thumb and wiped the drop.

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, heat spreading between your legs when he maintained eye contact. You didn't mean to, but you leaned into his touch, slightly gasping when he continued staring at you.

"Should I fuck you," he said out right.

Your heart beat sped up immediately, this sudden surge of confidence in him making you go crazy. That's when you noticed how close you both were. Jaemin's face was hovering right above yours, one more step and he would be kissing you. His lips looked so soft and inviting, so why not make it happen. You glanced at his lips then looked back at his eyes slowly getting sucked into his little game.

"Is this part of your whole police bit? Interrogating me like this,' you joke, trying to take some edge off the moment. "Are you going to arrest me if I don't answer?"

Jaemin didn't answer, just grinned. You always had a way of getting out of something and that something just so happened to be the sexual tension that's been brewing between the both of you for the longest. You couldn't deny that he looked good in the costume. And you always had a thing for men in uniform.

But instead of making a move, Jaemin simply backed away from you, eyeing you up and down. "I'm not doing this here," he mumbled, licking his lips.

"Do it," you said. "Do whatever you want." You swallowed hard, watching Jaemin watch you. You wanted him to just grab you and take you right here in the corner of the room. No one would notice anyway. Everyone was either high, drunk or in their own world.

Jaemin chuckled, licking his lips. "I'll see you later okay. Don't get too drunk." And with that he walked away, leaving you hot and needy.

-

Your body moved to the music, surrounded on all sides by people who also danced, talked and laughed. So far it's been a blast. Nothing crazy has happened except for some guy fighting another guy for scaring him too badly, two freshmans getting caught in a bedroom together, a girl projectile vomiting all over the living room. But other than that, it's been a smooth night.

You keep thinking about how you talked earlier with Jaemin. His sly look, the confidence in his eyes, the way he towered over you. God, he was so enticing.

You kept sipping your drink, the liquid falling into your stomach and heating your body at the same time when you felt someone come up behind you. They held your hips, body swaying with yours. "I thought you would never come back," you said, leaning into their body.

"I haven't seen you all night."

You looked behind you, only to see Jeno staring at you with his signature smile. "I thought you were Jaem," you said, turning around fully. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he continued to hold your waist, body dancing with yours to the music.

"Why are you always looking for him and not me," he whined playfully.

You laughed, fingers playing in his hair. You felt his hands tense and tighten on your hips, fingers slightly pressing into your sides. This is the closest you've probably ever been to him. Due to the nature of your outfit, it felt like his hands were on your skin, making your body heat up a little too fast. You tried to push the thoughts of his hands ripping off the outfit, forcing you down to your knees, swirling your cup of liquid behind his head. You took your arm from behind him, sipping it slowly.

"Gosh what made you think this costume was a good idea," he groaned, his cute grin making you giggle.

"Why didn't you and Jaem tell me you guys were gonna be cops? I could've been a cop too," you laugh.

"No one likes female cops."

"Not true. You haven't seen me as a female cop yet." The funny thing is that he did it last year. Except you bought a proper cop costume instead of a 'sexy' one. "Besides, I like this one. It was cheap."

"Clearly," he chuckled. His laugh was deep, radiating through your entire chest. That's when you noticed he wasn't even looking in your direction. Jeno was looking directly at your cleavage as your chest was pressed right against his. He slid his hands down your hips and behind, palms loosely cupping your ass. "What were you looking to achieve wearing this Y/N? Because whatever it was, it might be working."

You reached back, moving his hands back to your hips. "I'm trying to get laid, and I'm trying to do it with anyone that's not you."

Jeno raised a brow, giving you a dry laugh. "You're the only woman I know who wouldn't take the easy route."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"I mean," he leaned into your ear, lips brushing against the edge,"what kind of woman wouldn't wanna fuck two guys who clearly wanna fuck her and happens to live with?"

Jenos hands snakes back to your ass, gripping it hard. Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him, who remained as calm and collected as he did earlier. God it made you crazy. You were already wet from the interaction with Jaemin earlier, this one with Jeno just making you soaked.

"You're so rough, don't manhandle me," you whined, chest slightly pushing against his.

"Don't pretend you don't like it rough. 'Harder, faster'," he mocked. You've been a little less discreet than you would've liked in the past, leading to weeks and weeks of bullying by the two. "Your taste in men is horrible. If you have to keep telling them what to do, they're horrible."

"And if I fuck you and Jaem, what would that make me," you ask, tilting your head.

"Smart."

You laugh, taking another big sip from your cup. All Jeno could think about was how close you were to him. How close he is to ripping your lack of real clothes off. He just wanted you to admit that you've been thinking about it too, but he's fine if you didn't. He enjoyed the chase. He watched you place the cup on the coffee table that's next to you, fully immersing yourself in the conversation you were having with him. But Jeno wishes he could immerse himself the same as you. The way you look at him, the way you let your fingers graze his arms. You had no idea.

"Do you like the police costumes," Jeno asked you, content expression on his face.

You nod, moving your arms from around his neck and placing them on his shoulders. "Of course I do. You look hot," you complimented, grazing your fingers down his arms.

"Hot enough for you to fuck?"

You gave him a soft laugh, rolling your eyes. "Keep asking and it'll never happen."

"So you've considered."

You shook your head, avoiding the obvious answer but he knew you better than that. You thought about fucking him and Jaemin almost everyday. The thought of them bending you over, fist in your hair as they took you from behind plagued your once sane mind more times than you would like to admit. The feeling of their rough strong hands on your body, forcing you into any position possible. You couldn't help it. Living in such close quarters with them gave you the privileges of seeing things other women would kill to see. The Halloween costumes made it so much worse, the want for them to dominate you stronger than ever. Maybe you had a thing for power, but whatever it was was turning you into the most horny woman where you stood.

"Don't lie to me," he said quietly. Jeno gave you a smug smile as he leaned into your ear. "Instead of trying to fuck one of these losers, all you have to do is say the word and we'll be out of here."

A shiver ran down your spine feeling his breath on your ear. You needed him badly. You needed Jaemin badly, and you just knew you had to take the opportunity, but not without teasing him so much. Just before you spoke, you felt someone press against your back, whoever it was was not breathing into your neck.

"You guys are having fun without me?"

You gulped, Jaemin's deep whisper traveling right between your legs. Jeno moved his hands to your hips allowing Jaemin to place his own hands on your waist. His fingers played with the thin fabric, nails threatening to tip the thread with every pass. Jaemin pressed his semi hard cock in your ass while Jeno pressed his to your front, sending you into a spiral. You were forcefully sandwiched between your roommates, the air getting thick around you as people began to stare at the three of you.

"Guys people are starting to stare," you say, looking down to avoid eye contact with Jeno.

"And? They're just waiting for us to fuck you right in the middle of this floor. And I bet you're waiting for it too," Jaemin says in your ear, chuckling when you arched your ass on him. For a second it felt like no one was in the room. The music muffled in your ears, the faint feeling of jaemin's lips on your neck and Jeno's lips grazing against your lighting a fire in your chest.

"Stop teasing," you exhale.

"Do you want it as much as we want it," Jeno questioned, biting his lip as he stared at yours.

"Yes."

A wicked smile you couldn't see spread on Jaemin's face hearing your words. "This is gonna be a long night then."

-

The Uber ride consisted of nothing but kissing and touching. You were squeezed between the two men, their hands all over your body not giving a second to breathe. You find yourself kissing both of them at the same time, one or the other pulling you away when they feel they've been left out.

Jaemin's soft touch contrasted how strong his kisses were, his hand resting gently on the back of your neck as he kissed you. He wanted you to feel how much he wanted you, not just know. Jaemin didn't hide how horny he was for you due to the number of drinks he consumed at the party. He palmed himself, his cock straining against the pants of the costume.

Beside you, Jeno kissed neck, holding your waist tight he was pressed against you, sandwiching your body between the both of them. The scene was something straight out of a movie. The three of you are unable to keep your hands to yourselves as your driver tries his best to not watch in the front of the car.

You were in a complete daze, Jeno grabbing your chin gently, turning you to him. You moaned on his lips softly, turning your body to him. Jeno's hands went from your waist to your chest, gripping your breast generously. Jaemin kissed your neck down to your shoulder, his big strong hands making their way between your legs. You gasped softly feeling his thumbs rub your inner thighs dangerously close to your soaking heat.

"Fuck," you whispered, brows furrowing as you felt his thumb graze your clothed clit.

"It would only take me a second to rip this shit fabric off you," he whispered low enough so the driver couldn't hear. "Is that what you want?"

You nodded, gulping as Jeno's hands rubbed up your thighs. "Be patient, pretty. We're almost home," Jeno whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. You wish you could calm down, but the way jeno's hands sooth you as Jaemin keeps rubbing his thumb dangerously close to your clit makes you feel insane.

You kissed Jeno, hand on his neck as he wanted into his mouth. Jaemin began stroking his thumb softly against your clit, his lips on the back of your neck. Jeno bit your lip softly, kissing you once more as you began to quietly moan. Your hips moved on their own, slightly beginning to grind on his thumb.

"You're such a cute whore, putting on a show for everyone," Jaemin whispered.

"Are you gonna punish me officer?"

Your lips curled into a smile hearing Jaemin's soft laughter. You thought he would be put off by the sentence but instead he whispered something else that made your thoughts run.

"The costume came with handcuffs. You wanna put them to use?"

You nodded, heart beating fast in your chest. Jeno took your chin between his fingers, kissing you softly, his tongue making its way into your mouth. Jeno wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing it lightly making you moan softly into his mouth.

"U-uh, w-we arrived at your location," said the driver, who was silent the whole ride.

Jeno planted one more kiss on your lips softly, before turning to speak. "Thanks for the ride." The three of you got out of the car, Jeno stopping before walking to the entrance of your shared apartment.

"Mark is your name right?"

"Uh-huh," the driver said, nodding awkwardly.

"Thanks for the ride Mark, I'll give you a hefty tip."

The driver nodded and drove off, the deep red on his cheeks completely noticeable. Jeno walked back to you and Jaemin, who were already eating each other's faces in front of the door. "You two look like 2 drunk sorority girls," he laughed, pulling you away from the other male.

"Well, I'm trying to fuck like a drunk sorority girl so let's go inside," you said, closing your eyes as Jeno kissed your neck. The male chuckled and pulled you into the building followed by Jaemin. The elevator ride up was just as eventful as the car ride, hands and mouths all over you. The ding of the elevator snapped you out of whatever trance they had you in, but not them. They pulled you down the hall and to the door of your apartment, Jaemin's hand fumbling as he put the code into the door.

In the blink of an eye, the three of you were inside and the door was shut. Both of their hands were all over your body, not even giving you a chance to breathe. Jaemin grabbed your face, kissing you roughly. "Fuck I've been waiting for this all night," he mumbled.

"C-can we get to my bedroom at least," you said.

The both of them chuckled at your sudden flustered expression, following you to your room. Once again they didn't even give you time to breathe before they were all over your body. Jaemin pulled you to him, lips on yours as his hands gripped your waist. His hands moved to your tiny shorts, unbuttoning and unzipping the fabric. You kicked your heels off, height shifting but still keeping your lips on his. That's when you feel Jeno come up behind you, pressing himself on your body as he groped your breast from behind, kissing your neck softly.

Jaemin tugs your shorts down letting the fabric fall to the floor. You step out of the shorts, moaning softly when you feel Jeno's hand slip between your legs, cupping your clothed heat.

"Bet you've been thinking about this all night," he whispered in your ear.

You nodded, brows furrowing as Jaemin begins to kiss your neck. "Just fuck me already," you whined softly.

"You're desperate aren't you," Jaemin mumbled, chuckling as he undid the buttons of your body suit. The male pulled the fabric up your body, his fingertips grazing your bare skin lighting a fire in your belly. Jeno wasted no time getting his hand back between your legs, finding that you were wearing nothing but a thong with your tights.

"Jesus, you really were just trying to get fucked tonight weren't you." You closed your eyes, letting your head fall on Jaemin's shoulder taking in the feeling of Jeno rubbing your clothed clit. He smirked to himself watching you push onto his hand as he kept going. "What do you want right now, hm?"

"Anything," you said breathlessly. "Please.."

"Isn't that cute," Jaemin mumbled, chuckling softly. "But are you gonna be a good girl for the rest of the night?"

You groaned softly, rolling your eyes. "Please just fuck me," you whined.

"You didn't answer his question," Jeno chimed, fingers playing with your fishnets.

You wanted to say something else, but you realized they had the upper hand at the moment. You needed to have sex badly, and was so desperate to get something out of someone. And as much as it pained you to not pick a fight with them m, you obliged not just for your own sanity, but also because the thought of them telling you what to do was fucking hot.

"I'll be a good girl," you said reluctantly.

"Good," Jaemin smirked. "Get on your knees."

Both of their eyes never left you as you dropped to the ground slowly. Their bodies towered over you in the most degrading way and you loved it. You move your hands towards Jaemin's belt, undoing it all while staring up at him. His eyes were glued on you, along with Jeno's, who was undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. You tugged his pants down, allowing his hard on to spring free from the confines of the fabric.

"Shit," you whispered to yourself, staring at the size of him.

You look to your left to see Jeno was just a big, a gulp moving down your throat.

"What? You're scared," Jaemin mocked.

"Don't tell me you're a quitter Y/N," Jeno taunts, "we barely got started."

"Shut up," you grumbled. Your face grew hot, breath a little shallow as you wrapped your hand around the base of Jeno's cock, stroking it slowly as you turned to Jaemin's. Jaemin's heavily lidded eyes lingered on you, watching you as you licked the tip of his cock, staring at him with those big eyes he loved so much.

You wrapped your mouth around his head, sucking and bobbing your head slowly. The way he looked at you lit a fire in you, the fire traveling to your stomach and even lower, making you press your legs together. You lifted your mouth off him, wrapping your hand around his shaft as you turned to Jeno.

You licked up the base of his cock all the way to his tip, making the man scrunch his brows. He bit his lip, watching you close your eyes as you started to suck him off with a bit more vigor, hand moving on Jaemin at the same pace. Everything about this looked like it jumped straight out of a porno. You're still in half of your costume, Jaemin and Jeno dressed like cops with their pants to their ankles, both their cocks in your mouth.

"Good girl, keep going just like that," Jeno mumbled, hand stroking the back of your head.

The praise went right to your head and your cunt making you squeeze your legs tight. The way Jeno looked at you made you feel like he was about to eat you alive, and that's all you wanted. You pulled off of him, breathing heavily trying to catch your breath. Your hand stroked him fast as you turned to Jaemin, giving his neglected cock your attention.

You stuck your tongue out, tapping the tip on the wet muscle in the most teasing way possible. Jaemin watched you in awe as you kissed his tip softly, opening your mouth wide to take him. Jaemin licked his lips, enjoying watching you.

"Take all of it."

And you did, sinking lower and lower until all you could do was splutter around him, gagging as he hit the back of your throat. Jaemin took the back of your head, pushing you until your nose touched his skin. Eyes screwed shut, trying to be the best girl you possibly could below both of these men making you go crazy.

"Good girl," Jaemin cooed. "Take it like the slut you are."

Jaemin took his hand off your head, allowing you to rise from him. You coughed, heaving as you tried to get oxygen in your lungs but even that couldn't stop you from spitting on his cock and taking him in your mouth again. You bobbed your head, hand pumping Jeno at the same pace you had no idea how you looked but it couldn't have been anything short from a mess.

However, to the men standing above you, you looked like a wet dream. On your knees, hands on both of them, tears straining your face, drool falling from your pretty lips.

"Fuck, just look at her," Jeno grunted, thrusting into your hand slowly as you stroked him. You stopped bobbing your head, pulling his cock out your mouth and turned back to Jeno. They were both so close and you could tell. You could feel it in the way they were talking, breathing, thrusting in your mouth or hands. Jeno raked his hand through his hair, throwing his head back at the feeling of you deepthroating him, a loud groan leaving his lips.

"I'm so fucking close," Jeno moaned, the sound of his voice making you weak.

"C'mon baby, make us cum." Jaemin breathing heavily along with the male across from him, watching you with focused eyes as you removed Jeno from your mouth, not just stroking them in your hands quickly.

Looking up at them, your doe eyes shifted rapidly between them, wanting them to cum badly. "Please," you spoke with a breathy moan, voice raspy. "Cum on my fucking face."

Your voice sent them both over the edge, the pressure building up in both of them resulting in your cum landing all over your face. You stuck your tongue out, catching both of their seed swallowing and sticking it out again to show them.

"Good girl," Jaemin praised. "such a good girl. Stand up for me pretty."

You did as you were told, letting go of their cocks as you rose to your feet, knees sore from being on them too long. Jaemin pulled you to him, lips crashing on yours. Behind you, you felt Jeno's hand snake underneath you, popping the buttons of the body suit. You moaned softly, feeling his hands pull the fabric up your stomach. He traced his fingers on your ass, giving you neck slow wet kisses.

You pulled away from Jaemin, reaching back for Jeno as you felt his fingers graze your inner thighs once more.

"I let me taste you," he said, ensuing an enthusiastic nod from you. Jeno took you, sitting you on the edge of your bed followed by him sinking to his knees right in front of you. You thought about this happening more times than you'd like to admit. But now here he is, spreading your legs wide for him, eyes unable to look away from your soaked thong and slick thighs. You were a mess and don't even know.

"Fuck," Jaemin breathed. "You like being on your knees that much?" Jaemin sat next to you, stroking his semi soft cock as he watched Jeno tease you.

Jeno kissed your inner thighs, tongue grinding along your skin licking your arousal. His eyes never left yours. They pierced into yours as if they could read every thought you had at the moment. A shiver ran through your spine as you circled his tongue on your clothes clit, hand reaching up and pulling the thong against the sensitive bud.

"Perfect little pussy just for me," he mumbled to himself, pushing the fabric aside.

"God we should've done this a long time ago," Jaemin mumbled.

Jeno gave you clit one lick, making your body shudder, a sigh falling from your lips. He did it again, this time harder and longer. Jeno wrapped his arms around the underside of your legs, placing soft kisses on your cunt. Jaemin turned your head to him, locking lips with you as Jeno began to eat you out with vigorous tongue moving all over.

Jaemin kissed you deeper, tongue exploring your mouth as his hand kept pumping his cock. Jaemin pulled away, smirking to himself as he looked at your cum covered face. "So fucking pretty," he mumbled, kissing the corner of your mouth.

Your moans grew, panting heavily as Jeno sucked your clit, flicking his tongue on the bud. Looking down at him, you couldn't help but get even more turned on. His mouth was covered in your slick, tongue moving inside you like crazy. Your hips began to move on its own, grinding on his face. You always loved his nose, especially right now. His nose continued to stimulate the swollen bud as he licked at your entrance.

"Fuck Jeno, oh my God," you whimpered, pleasure amplified by Jaemin's lips on your neck.

"Is this pretty pussy gonna cum for me," he mumbled, flicking his tongue on your clit fast. Jeno removed his arm from around your leg, hand immediately making its way in-between your legs. In the blink of an eye, his fingers were inside you, fingering you hard and fast.

"Jeno, fuck just like that," you whimpered, body starting to shake from the intense pleasure. He never took his eyes off you, lips wrapping around your clit once again, sucking it hard.

"F-fuck, you're gonna make me cum." You ran your hand through his hair, gripping it tight as you pulled his face closer to your body. Just as you felt yourself about to cum, Jaemin took your chin, kissing you messily. You moaned loudly into the other male's mouth, sucking his tongue as you whined, feeling yourself cum around Jeno's fingers.

You sat there panting as Jaemin cupped your face, trying to catch your breath and whatever piece of mind was still there as Jeno moved his fingers from inside you.

"You did so good Y/N," Jeno praised, standing up between your legs. "Open your mouth for me."

You did, dropping your jaw on command. No man has ever been able to dominate you in the way that these two have, but you love it. You were fuzzy, completely fucked out. You just wanted to be a good girl for them. Jeno looked down at you, taking in the absolute mess that you were and reveled in it. The amount of times he's jerked off to this couldn't compare to being here at the moment. You were a tease and knew it. He couldn't wait to wreck you.

Jaemin watched Jeno grab your jaw and spit in your mouth, sticking his fingers coated in your cum down your throat right after. Almost like you've done this a thousand times more, you sucked his fingers, staring up at him with begging eyes.

"Fuck if I knew you were like this I would've fucked you a long time ago," Jaemin mumbled. You pulled off his fingers, nothing but a string of saliva connecting your bodies till it broke.

"I need both of you inside me," you said, face hot at the thought.

"At the same time," Jaemin questioned. Both of the men glanced at each other, silently communicating.

You nodded, gulping as you stared at them with desperate eyes. "Please.."

Jeno sighed, laughing softly to your begging. He began to unbutton his shirt, the sight of his fingers moving setting your body on fire. "God, I love it when you beg."

You turned your head, Jaemin already out of his shirt. He removed his shoes, kicking his pants and boxers off his ankles. His hands then tugged on your bodysuit taking the sheer fabric off of you as lifted your arms. Then went your bra, Jaemin sliding it off your shoulders kissing the back of your neck softly. He took his shirt, wiping the cum that covered your face off, making you sigh in relief.

"Face down ass up," Jaemin said, tone more assertive than before.

You did as you were told, arching your ass in the air watching them watch you. Their eyes burned holes in your skin, smiles taunting you as you let them feel up your body.

"Where's your lube," Jeno questioned, raising a brow.

"Third drawer."

But before Jeno even pulled it out, Jaemin had already decided he was ready. You sighed softly, feeling his soft lips on the plush of your ass, his hands kneading your body like a stress ball. Jaemin never realized how unintentionally rough he was, how strong he was and it annoyed you except for this time. Your already sensitive cunt grew even more aroused as he squeezed harder. Jaemin smacked your ass hard, making your body jump.

"Has anyone ever eaten your ass before," he asked, his voice sounding darling from behind you.

Your face goes hot, gulping as you shake your head "no."

"There's a first time for everything."

The sensation that went through your body when his tongue touched your asshole was unexpected. Maybe you were simply too horny to function, but it actually felt good. Jaemin licked your backend again, this time starting from your pussy. Unintentionally, you pushed against his face more earning a hard smack on your ass once again.

"Fuck," you whispered, brows scrunched together. His tongue swirled around the tight muscle, eliciting yet another whine from your lips. Jeno stroked his cock, watching the both of you, precum already dripping. Jaemin was as hard as a brick, precum leaking down his tip as buried his face in your body. "J-Jaemin, this feels so good."

"Yeah?" He chuckled darkly, staring at you like you were his prey. He felt your body tremble in his hands when you felt his spit slide down your ass without warning. Jaemin rubbed the pad of his thumb on your puckered hole as he reached over to grab the lube. With one hand he opened it, squeezing its contents on your body. "You sure you want this," he asked, lids heavy with desire.

"Y-yes."

Jaemin took his finger, rubbing the lube a bit more before you gasped softly, feeling his finger move past the tight muscle. The deeper and deeper he pushed his finger, the harder your hands gripped the cover of your bed. The feeling was new, completely foreign and it would definitely take time before you got used to it. Your eyes were screw shut, the discomfort of him thrusting his finger in and out of you making your back hunch and whine tiredly.

"I know it feels strange but you'll start feeling good, I promise," he said softly.

And he was right, because after some time, that fire in your belly started to come back making you pant softly against your pillow. Your body becomes more relaxed, your brain adjusting the prior discomfort to pleasure. But you wanted more, needed more.

"A-add another finger," you mumbled, making Jeno bite his lip as he watched you.

Jaemin smirked, doing as you said. You gave him the reaction he expected. He loved your pretty sounds so much they gave him goosebumps. You were right around his fingers, the pressure making his cock leak. He popped the cap of the lube open, adding more.

"You're doing so well baby. Does it feel good," he said, voice sultry and sweet.

"Mhm." You could barely form real sentences, your brain too fogged in pleasure. You found yourself arching into his fingers more and more as he fingered you slowly. Jaemin's other hand massages your ass, adding more to the pleasure swimming all over your body. The room was silent with sounds of heavy breathing and the sound of Jaemin's fingers slipping in and out of you. That was until he slipped another finger in you without warning, making you whine loudly.

"F-fuck, it's too much," you whined.

"If you can't take three fingers, you can't take my cock," he said smoothly. "Don't tell me you're quitting Y/N."

"N-no," you managed to get out.

"Good," he mumbled. "Do you think you can take Jeno and my fingers at the same time?"

You nodded, gulping hard at the image you created in your head. "Yeah," you answered breathlessly. You lifted your body weakly, letting out a tiny whine as Jaemin pulled out his fingers. Jeno climbed underneath you, his head plopping down on your pink pillow. His hands ran up and down your sides, trying to soothe your sensitive body.

"God you're so pretty," he mumbled, staring at you from below. You hadn't seen yourself since you got out of the car, but you could only assume he was lying. Your lipstick was probably smudged everywhere, mascara running along your cheeks. You were anything but pretty, but his words still made you blush. "I would put a condom on, but I have no idea where you keep those."

"I don't have any," you said blankly, just now realizing your lack of protection. "But… I don't mind. As long as it's okay with you guys."

Jeno didn't say a word, only giving you a look like he's been dreaming of this moment. He thought about it all the time, fucking you nice and raw. The thought of having your tight cunt around him was about to make him spiral. Jeno took his cock, rubbing the tip along your slit slowly.

He grinned, watching your brows knit at the feeling. "You want me to fill you up real bad don't you," he taunted, rubbing your clit softly.

"Yes, I want you to stretch me. Please," you whined, begging for him with a hot face. You let out a breathy moan, feeling his tip slowly enter you. Jeno let your hips do the rest of the work, groaning when you fully sat on his cock. "Jeno, you're so big," you moaned, mindlessly beginning to grind on him. Your hands curled on his chest, the stretch he was giving you overstimulating your senses but you couldn't help yourself.

Suddenly, you felt two strong hands grab your hips and still them. "You're so eager you can't even wait," Jaemin said with a small laugh. He kneeled behind you, forcefully pushing your body down against Jeno, making you arch your back. That's when Jeno wrapped his arms around you keeping you still as Jaemin added more lube. You shivered feeling the cold substance on your skin, hissing as his fingers filled your asshole once again.

Your body is on fire, Jeno filling your pussy while Jaemin plays with your ass. The vulnerability of the position, the way both of their eyes burned into you as you laid there weak and unable to have a single coherent thought only turned you on even more. Jeamin pumped his fingers in you while Jeno thrusted in you slowly, the discomfort beginning to melt away as time passed. His dick was painfully hard, wanting to do nothing but ravage your body.

"You think you're ready," he said, chuckling when seeing your fucked out expression.

"Y-yes, fuck me please."

Jaemin moved closer to you, pulling his fingers out at you smoothly. Picking up the lube, he added a generous amount. You bite your lip hard looking, Jeno unwrapping his arms from around you allows you to look over your shoulder. Jaemin pressed the head of his cock against your hole, his eyes droopy in lust. Jaemin pushed the head of his cock into you, the stretch making you screw your eyes shut, nails digging into Jeno's chest.

"I love first timers," Jaemin groaned. His brows furrowed deep, gripping your hips. Very slowly, he fills you, the tightness making the three of you moan. You were in a daze, body gone completely limp and weak. You never felt so full in your life and you loved every second of it. The only thing you could do was take deep breaths, as Jaemin bottomed out inside of you. Tears pricked the edges of your eyes as you let your face fall into the crook of Jeno's neck.

"You're doing so good baby," Jeno whispered in your ear, his hands traveling to your ass, squeezing your body hard.

The action made you clench, giving both men a chill up their spines. "Fuck," you whimpered softly. "So full..t-too much.."

"Shh baby you can do it," he moaned softly, hips starting to rock into yours slowly. "Take it Y/N. Be a good girl and take it."

With every rock of his hips, it caused your body to move also, adding a slight bounce on Jeno's cock. You couldn't even compute the feeling flowing through your body. All you could do was lay there weak as they filled every part of you, drooling and moaning uncontrollably. Jeno turned your head to him, kissing you lazily as he began to thrust in and out of you slowly along with Jaemin.

Your breathing quickened, hands moving from his chest to his shoulders. "Oh my God," you whimpered tearfully. Your body was completely overstimulated, overwhelmed with lust.

"Poor baby, she's crying," Jeno said, chuckling darkly.

"Wanted both of us at the same time, but can barely handle it." Jeamin spread your cheeks further watching both his and Jeno's dick move in and out of you. "So fucking pretty and tight for me. You've been waiting for this haven't you."

Absent-mindedly, you nod, the only thing in your brain is pleasing them.

"Good girl," Jaemin said in a slight whisper. "Every time you cum from now on, I want it to be from my cock in your ass. Understand?"

"Y-yes," you said in a small groan.

"Good girl." A hard smack landed on your ass check, the pain quickly turning into pleasure. Jeno was beginning to get impatient, the feeling of Jaemin practically rubbing right against him, the tight and snug fit of the both of you quickly about to make him cum.

"Faster," you whine. "B-both of you, please." Both men obliged your pleading, watching you throw your head back, eyes rolling back while you moaned in controllably. Your hips pushed against the both of them, desperate for them to be seeing inside you.

"Such a fucking cock slut," Jeno said through gritted teeth, his hands trailing down your arched back. "You like having two dicks in you don't you?"

"Y-yes," you said, gasping, feeling a pair of fingers on your neglected clit. Looking at your bodies, you see Jeno's fingers rubbing it fast. You were nowhere near cumming, but now you felt it. You felt the pit in your stomach grow. "I'm gonna cum," you moaned, tears threatening to escape again.

"Cum on my cock." Jeno's voice sent a shockwave through you, your orgasm coming to you almost violently, body shaking, nails digging into his shoulders as you held onto him. Your pussy clenched tight around him, making you clench just as tight around Jaemin, who was pressing his fingers into your sides. For the first time in a long time, you came so hard you saw starts and it felt real fucking good.

"Fuck, you take me so well," Jeno groaned. He lost all self control after feeling you cum around him, thrust started to get fast. Jaemin matched his speed, making your already weak body slump over on the man below you. Your face was buried in his neck once again, whimpers and whines escaping.

Jaemin pounded into you as Jeno went deeper, every single movement making you see stars, your brain going fuzzy with pleasure.

Jaemin watched you sit up as best as you could, looking back watching both of them stuffing you like a doll. He took one glance at your wet face, hands gripping hips hard when the sight made his mind reel. That's when he felt himself coming closer and closer to his orgasm. Everything stimulated him quickly, the way you felt to the way you looked on top of Jeno, he was going to cum quickly.

"Fuck I'm so close," he groaned. "You want me to cum in your ass?"

"Yes, yes cum in me," you moaned weakly.

With a few more thrust, you felt Jaemin cum, his loud breathy moans filling your ears. Jaemin kept thrusting, riding out the high until he couldn't take it anymore. Slowly he pulled out of you, breathing heavily as he stared at your gaping asshole, cum slowly leaking out.

In an instant, you wanted him back inside you, missing the feeling of being full, but Jeno didn't let you miss it for too long. The man took your hips in his rough hands, holding your body up as he fucked up into you.

"J-jeno, fuck, right there," you sobbed, throwing your head back. You mustered up enough energy to bounce along with his thrust, your orgasm finally approaching for the third time that night. You squeezed around him tight, making the man moan loudly."Cum in me," you whined, holding onto his shoulders. "Fill me up."

His hands slid from your hips to your ass, squeezing so hard it was going to leave a bruise. "You like this? You like being fucked like a whore?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Desperate to reach your climax you start bouncing on him as he pounds into you. Soon enough you begin to feel your stomach tighten, on the brink of cumming. "Fuck, I-im cumming."

You came hard, body shivering on top of the male underneath you. Soon Jeno came with a loud moan, the warm liquid making your brows furrow. The three of you were exhausted, bodies completely spent– especially yours. Jeno was still inside you when you plopped down on his body, heart beating and trying to catch your breath even though you had minimal movement.

"Hey you alright," Jaemin said, poking at your back.

You didn't respond, your brain still fried from the high you just got. You laid on Jeno silently, tuning everything out.

"I think we broke her," Jeno jokes. His hands caress your waist, taking in the breaths fanning his neck. Jeno thrusted into you, earning a breathy moan.

"Too sensitive," you managed to say.

Jeno chuckled softly, kissing your cheek tenderly. "You did a good job Y/N. God you're so pretty when you cum."

"She looks like she's about to pass out," Jaemin commented, gazing at your expression.

He was right you were exhausted, horny, and one hundred percent not ready for the pain you were going to have in the morning. You gave Jeno a small whine when he pulled out of you, laying you next to him on the bed. You felt him run his hand on your side, looking at him with begging eyes as he rubbed your waist.

"You can't look at me like that and not say what you want," he mumbled, licking his lips.

"Kiss me," you said quietly, slightly pouting.

Jeno gave you a small smile, kissing you softly like you asked. "Let's get you cleaned up okay?"

Jeno stood up followed by Jaemin. Jaemin tugged your limp body to the corner of the bed, putting his arms under you to lift you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him close to your body.

"So fucking cute," he mumbled. "Wanna watch a movie later?"

You shook your head, eyes getting heavy as he carried you to the bathroom. "I just wanna take a bath and sleep."

"Okay we can work with that," Jeno agreed.

You laughed to yourself in your drowsy state, biting your lip softly. "This has officially been the best Halloween ever."

[kidasthings]

Noa and Mae: A Taboo Affair?

Hi, there! Kida checking in again with yet another controversy - you've been warned.

I see a lot of people on Tumblr and Reddit pointing out that a Noa/Mae (#NoMae?) pairing would be at best controversial, at worst beastiality.

I mean, he IS a CGI ape, right?

Not so fast.

I'd like to break down a few points, if I Mae (pun intended!), and address this argument. I'll be using a few of the comments I've seen on the web already to do so, on the part of the dissenters to the pairing.

1st Argument: "Planet of the Apes wouldn't show a kiss between a human and an ape. Ew."

Reply: Oh, they already have, my friend. Not in the full-blown sense, but they definitely did film Zira and Taylor kissing lips to muzzle in 1968. You can view that lovely bit here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEp7yunwVF8

I apologize in advance for impinging on your delicate simian sensibilities. #sorrynotsorry

2nd Argument: "Why would they even depict a human/ape couple? Humans and apes can't even reproduce in the franchise."

Reply: They can't? News to me. There was a Hum-Ape written into the early scripts and screen tests for Beneath the Planet of the Apes in 1970. Seems the Planet of the Apes franchise truly thought it was worth exploring back then. You can read all about that little guy right here: https://planetoftheapes.fandom.com/wiki/Hum-Ape

Aww, just look at that adorable lack of face-fur!

3rd Argument: "The audience of today isn't ready for that kind of thing."

Reply: And the audience in the 1960's/early 1970's was? I didn't know we became even more conservative 50+ years later. I'll be sure to adjust my high neckline and clutch my pearls in absolute horror at the thought of all of those deviant libertines living before me. Excuse me, I must go confront my parents about this.

BUT, before I do, I do want to point out we seemed to accept an on-screen kiss between Goliath (a gargoyle) and Elisa (a human) during a certain Disney children's cartoon show in the 1990's - anyone remember that?

Disgusting. I bet his breath smelled like rancid pigeon.

Additionally, we have more recent films such as Avatar, The Shape of Water - which won 4 Academy Awards, including best picture (not bad for a human and a fish-man pairing), and Beauty and the Beast.

And hey, if a living monster is not your thing, you could always opt for Warm Bodies. Think female human and male zombie. Necrophilia, anyone?

4th Argument: "Okay, fine, I see your point on the Taylor/Zira thing. But that only worked out because it was a human in a monkey suit, and we all sort of knew that. It didn't make it so strange. As for the other films you listed, well, those creatures don't actually exist so it's out of the realm of true possibility anyway. Noa is depicted as a real chimp, and him getting with Mae just makes it hit too close to home for comfort."

Reply: #Ishetho? Let's take a good look at what a "real chimp" looks like:

He's so damn Chimpy.

Okay, now let's look at our leading man--er, ape:

Looks like Chimpy had a love-child with Owen Teague. #shudder

As you can see, the two are pretty different. Chimpy has a true muzzle and a mouth that curves around it. Noa has a flatter, human face with an actual nose bridge and wider-spaced eyes.

And the EYES. My god. If you don't see the humanity in those baby-blues you might want to get checked for psychopathy. Besides that, Chimpy lacks eye-whites and has rounder eyes than Noa. Additionally, that pronounced brow ridge on Chimpy has thunder clouds gathering beneath it. Don't get me started on the ear comparison between the two, I'm sure it goes without saying!

Anyway, I think it can be safely stated that no chimp alive on this earth looks like Noa. He's too physically humanized to resemble an actual chimpanzee of the typical zoo variety. Thus, I would place him safely in the category of fish-man, the tall, blue cat creatures from Avatar, and those barbaric blue aliens that keep cropping up on certain ice planets in books #ifyouknowwhatImean.

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

All that said, everyone can ship what they want. If you want Noa playing house with Caesar, never mind that trifling little timeline issue, you go with your fine self and write that fanfiction. Create an account on DeviantArt.com and fill it with their anthropomorphic babies who eventually grow up to be the first ape astronauts. Someone out there is going to love it and eat it up, I promise you.

For the points above, this is about Noa and Mae. They've got something, something tangible. Whether or not it becomes canon is yet to be seen.

For now, it lives on in our minds. With our inner eye, we can see it just fine.

[bunni-v1]

hii, can I request "First Years Finding Out Your A Girl" with sebek and ortho please?

Ortho and Sebek Find out You’re a Girl?!?!?! (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

TW: Swearing (as usual lol); Ortho being creepy; Misogyny mention <3; Reader goes by she/her and is biologically female; Book 6 spoilers (very light, but still there); Bunni hasn't read Book 7 and therefore doesn't know what they're talking about :)

Info: Ortho x Reader; Sebek x Reader; Fem!Reader; Platonic

🍓Hi. If you’ve read the first part of this, I copy pasted the intro. Not because I’m lazy or anything (I’m a little lazy, but I’m a full-time college student who also has a part-time job, so I think I can be excused.) It’s mostly because… It’s a good intro. If people are just discovering this stuff then they can read it, but if you’ve read the first part you can just skip to the good good yk. Anyway, long-ass babble session, but I didn’t include Ortho and Sebek initially because they’re kind of new to the First year group so idk. Felt weird including them. Also, I haven’t read book seven so Sebek I bullshit a lot lol. Anyway, they’re here now, and I absolutely ADORE Ortho, so sorry if my favoritism shows.

First Years

Second Years

Third Years

Dorm Leaders

-Okay so, I know we’re all wondering, how the hell do you get away with hiding your gender for so damn long?

-Firstly, those ceremonial robes do great at hiding the figure. The only tell would maybe be your hair, but feminine men aren’t unwelcome at Nightraven College, so you mostly get a few questioning stares and that’s it.

-Secondly, Crowley wants to save his own fucking ass. He already has to hide from the press that he has a MAGICLESS student from ANOTHER DIMENSION here, he doesn’t need the fact that you are a woman ALSO on his plate. So, obviously, he helps you hide your gender from others.

-Grim knows, of course, and he keeps his mouth shut for a few yummy cans of tuna (and threats of being expelled from Crowley <3)

-Even when you were just a janitor, he couldn’t have the rumor that he put a “helpless” young woman to work. (Like it wouldn’t be expected.)

-So how do you two do it?

-Baggy ass uniform. Crowley gave you at least three sizes too big.

-Your figure is completely hidden. Sure, you look completely homeless, but at least you’re hidden.

-For your voice, you simply deepen it. After some point, you blackmail Crowley into giving you a potion to help with it, since it's so taxing on your voice. (Or maybe your voice is naturally deep!)

-Sam provides you (for an unfairly pretty penny (not too different from your original world…)) any feminine hygiene products you might need.

-Honestly, you’re set for being cared for, but it’s the adjustment period that’s the hardest part. 

-Truly, it’s very jarring to suddenly be thrown into both a magical world and be isolated in a man's world with nowhere to hide.

-At least in your world you had other women who could understand your struggles. Here though? You’re completely alone.

-You notice how… messy some of these guys could be. How some of them smell… really rancid. -How rough they were with you and each other.

-Honestly, it’s kinda eye-opening. The way men show affection to each other is oddly refreshing to watch and experience!

-Ace and Deuce specifically are a good… trial run.

-That’s not what we’re here to talk about though…

-For the most part, it's incredibly easy to hide yourself for the first while on campus. Everyone on campus is so self-absorbed that they don’t bother questioning you.

-Your only real risk factor is Savannaclaw, but it's easy to avoid those guys (minus Jack, of course).

-However, you can only hide your gender for so long… It’s mentally draining to keep up this facade all the time around people you care about.

-So… how do they find out?

Ortho 

-Okay, so Ortho is a little creepy weirdo. He’s a highly advanced robot who likely has autism, and loves his big brother a whole fucking lot. 

-(Side note: Can a robot, child, or thing have autism? Does that mean Idia programmed Ortho to be autistic? How silly of him.)

-It’s my personal head cannon that Idia DECKED this kid out in as much high-tech gear as he could get his hands on. 

-He’s equipped with some of the most complex medical features, therefore he has access to a database of all students at NRC’s medical files. (This is not legal, but he does not care for the law.)

-“But Bunni, what does that have to do with the prefect?” Well, Ortho is ALSO equipped with the latest medical scanner on the market.

-Think like Baymax, yeah? He can scan everyone one time and know every piece of medical knowledge readily available.

-Well, Ortho, the sweet little creep he is, automatically scans the medical information of any new person he sees/meets into his database — just in case it may come in handy.

-So, before he even KNOWS you. Before he speaks a single word to you, he knows you’re biologically a female.

-He scanned you without thinking and just shrugged his shoulders at it.

-You’re not from here, and you got thrown into this, so you being a woman doesn’t really matter too much to you being at NRC. 

-It honestly could’ve been anyone getting stuck here, so why should he question it?

-However, he notices that you are referred to with exclusively “male” pronouns, so he marks in your file that you are trans and moves on. 

-Again, who cares? He’s a magical robot guy based on his brother's dead brother. Who was he to judge?

-When he finally ACTUALLY gets to interact with you after being welcomed into the first-year squad, he’s very respectful of your gender.

-You are a man to him, therefore he refers to you with exclusively masculine pronouns.

-However, everyone in your little group already knows, and they assume that Ortho knows. So when they speak about you, they use feminine pronouns.

-Ortho, sweet as he is, immediately questions everyone as to why they’re misgendering you.

-Protective of the people he cares for at heart, he doesn’t like the idea that your so-called closest friends are misgendering you behind your back.

-Doesn’t believe them completely when they explain, so he goes to you because you’re the only one who knows who you really are.

-“Prefect!”

“Hey, Ortho! What’s up? Miss me?”

“Of course I do, but I have a very important question.”

“Sure, what do ya need?”

“Are you a woman?”

-At this point 90% of your friends know, but there is a handful that doesn’t… and you can’t be having that.

-You, of course, assure Ortho that you are not only a woman, but that your friends are not misgendering you behind your back.

-Relieved, he takes several of your friends off a hit list and removes the trans man label on your medical chart.

-Asks why you hid your gender in the first place.

-Promptly adds Crowley to a hit list (again).

-Ortho, out of EVERYONE at NRC, has absolutely zero behavior changes toward you. 

-He’s equally protective as he was before, he spends the same amount of time with you as usual, he doesn’t suddenly have some weird crush on you, and he’s still trying to set you up with Idia.

-Honestly, everyone should take notes from Ortho. He’s the best at this whole thing.

Sebek

-On the other hand… do not take notes from Sebek! He sucks at this! He sucks really badly!

-Out of all the first years, Sebek is not only the least close to you, but he is also incredibly mean. So you just… feel no obligation to tell him.

-In fact, you kind of… sort of… actively leave him out of the loop for a really long time.

-I mean, it's not an unreasonable thing to do. He is constantly berating you and putting you down for being human. You have no idea how he feels about women and you don’t want to find out first hand.

-In all honesty, he is the only person (other than Azul and the twins) that you’re really scared of finding out, and take extra precautions to ensure he doesn’t find out.

-However, you attend NRC, and nothing ever goes your way at NRC.

-Despite every precaution you take to keep your gender under lock and key, you overlook one thing.

-Malleus Draconia.

-His complete and total lack of social awareness is your downfall here. He finds out, and despite everything telling him to keep his mouth shut… he doesn’t. Because of course, he doesn’t.

-At this point, you’ve gone through most of your misadventures, and most — if not all — of your friends know you’re a girl.

-Hell, even Silver knows now. Everyone BUT Sebek knows.

-And he finds out because Malleus casually mentions it over dinner. Not even directly about your gender, he just uses she/her pronouns.

-Sebek, being Sebek, respectfully asks Malleus if he meant to say he. Malleus, of course, says no without a second thought.

-The shock and horror on Silver and Lilia’s faces was enough to be further confirmation.

-And Sebek’s world shatters.

-He was completely left out of the loop and also has a moral conflict now.

-As much shit, as I gave Sebek (as everyone gives Sebek) he RESPECTS women. His queen is a woman, and his mother is a woman. 

-In his eyes, women are some of the strongest people around. Regardless of if they’re human or not.

-You, on top of being a human from another realm who had successfully quelled several of the strangest students at NRC’s OVERBLOTS and came out on top, was also a woman.

-If that wasn’t strength, he didn’t know what it was.

-However, his bias against humans strongly clashes with his respect for women in this case.

-And it just… messes with his head. 

-He doesn’t treat you worse, in fact, he’s just… really awkward around you now.

-He doesn’t know if he should apologize or berate you for being a human, so he just stays stiff and glares at you.

-It's honestly more scary than him constantly talking down to you.

-However, once the two of you actually befriend one another, he apologizes to you. For everything, and explains where he’s coming from. Why he acted the way he did, how he really feels about you, and all that sweet shit.

-Afterwards, he is genuinely the best at keeping your secret (if he even needs to at this point).

-If there is anyone you can trust to keep his stupid mouth shut at NRC, it's Sebek. 

-His honor and pride force him into silence when it comes to secrets he promises to keep.

-In fact, if anyone is on your trail about it, he’s the first one to jump in the way and scare them off/shut them down.

[superhaught]

I Mean It Different Than You Do

Pairing: Leighton x Reader

Warnings: surgery recovery, pure fluff

Word Count: 2500

Anonymous Asked: Hi! Could i please request a Leighton x fem reader that’s kind of based on the episode of slocg where Kimberly has her surgery and the Kansas guy takes care of her and she thinks hey only thinks of her like tiny Tim lol but instead it’s with Leighton x reader and leighton takes care of a sick reader and finds out that they have feelings for each other and it’s full of fluff! Sorry if this is confusing lol

Took inspiration from Reneé's song "I Do" as well.

Leighton and reader are best friends. Leighton helps reader through their wisdom tooth surgery.

You had found a friend in a very unlikely person. 

The first time you noticed her, she was trying to get drunk off of tiny disposable cups of wine while volunteering at the Women’s Center open mic night. 

The second time you noticed her, she was sitting down in the seat in front of you in your spring semester astronomy class. 

After working on a class project together, you discovered that she was actually a very sweet person underneath her designer clothes, perfectly straightened blonde hair, and chilly attitude. You became fast friends over that second semester at Essex and ended up spending a lot of time together outside of class. 

You watched as Leighton Murray grew more and more comfortable with her sexuality over time. As her friend, you supported her exploration of being out and were there for her throughout the ups and downs of her relationships with Alicia and Tatum. 

You invited her over to your off-campus apartment when she needed some time to decompress from Essex life. You watched movies together almost every weekend. You forced her to experience some natural New England beauty with brief hiking trips and lake days. 

She brought you to parties, took you along shopping and out for lunch and dinner, and earnestly tried to get you more involved in the dating scene. Leighton even set up a dating app profile for you once and you just giggled and said, “I don’t want to meet someone through an app!” 

She rolled her eyes at you, “I give up! Don’t you want to start seeing people?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “I feel like I have everything I want right now.”

“How are we so different?” the blonde mused, turning her attention to her own phone, which was constantly blowing up with messages. “Well, whatever. I’m not going to force you to date just for the sake of it, but I feel like you’re missing out.”

You didn’t say anything in response. You were reading in your bed and Leighton was laying next to you comfortably. You were holding a highlighter in between your teeth and occasionally shifting so that you could annotate in your book. You had noticed that Leighton had been glancing over at you a few times but you didn’t say anything about it. 

She flipped her phone to face you at some point, showing you an instagram post announcing an upcoming Theta party, “wanna go?”

You looked at the date of the party and frowned, shaking your head, “can’t. I’m sorry, Leight. I’m getting my wisdom teeth out that day.”

“Aw shit, really? That sucks…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m going to need the weekend to recover. Actually, I was going to ask you if I could get your help with a ride to and from the dentist but you should go to the party so don’t worry about it.”

“No, I'd love to help! You think I’d rather be hanging out in the rancid Theta house than eating popsicles and binging Housewives with my best friend?”

You laughed, “Well I don’t know, would you rather hang out with me after getting wisdom tooth surgery than go to a party and potentially meet a hottie to spend the night with?”

Leighton smirked at you and shifted a little bit closer to you in the bed, leaning her head on your shoulder, “nah… lately, you’re the only hottie I’ve been wanting to spend my time with.”

“Yeah, right,” you snorted. 

“I’m being serious, dumbass.”

You both looked at each other for a moment. You were thrown off by her words, surely she didn’t mean…

“What are you reading, anyway?” Leighton asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Oh, nothing too exciting…” you go on to tell her about the assigned reading you were doing for your poetry class and she listened to you, letting the awkwardness of the earlier conversation fade away. 

Leighton hung out at your apartment, enjoying the ability to do her homework in the easy quiet with you rather than amidst all the chaos of the dorms and her suite. You ordered take out and watched a show on your laptop and then she reluctantly got ready to leave to go home for the night. She was packing up her tote bag and then you just blurted it out, “stay.”

She looked up at you, “huh?”

“You could just stay. You don’t have to go back to campus, if you don’t want to, I mean. Like, I’m not kicking you out.”

“Are you saying that I don’t have to go, or are you asking me to stay?”

“Are those two different things?”

She nodded, “yes.”

You took a deep breath, “then… I’m asking you to stay, I guess. I don’t want you to go. Sleep over.”

Leighton smiled and let go of her bag before joining you on the bed again, “okay, let’s watch another episode then.”

You ended up watching another two episodes of tv, eating microwave popcorn in bed and laughing over stupid things. 

Life was easier with Leighton. 

Your neck was hurting you. You blinked a few times then realized that you and Leighton had fallen asleep cuddled up with each other and left the laptop playing the show. You were now staring at the screen that read “Are you still watching?”

You shifted your body slightly, trying not to wake Leighton up. She moved and you thought you had woken her but she just sniffled slightly and hugged you a little tighter. You carefully got rid of your laptop and adjusted yourself in the bed so that you could lie down fully and Leighton came with you, sleeping on her side with her head tucked into the crook of your neck. 

You smiled and pulled the blankets over you both, then turned off your bedside lamp and fell back to sleep with Leighton in your arms. 

Leighton had woken up that following morning with a cute smile and said, “that was the best sleep.” The blonde pressed a quick peck of a kiss to your cheek before she got out of the bed and went to the bathroom. She didn’t bother closing the bathroom door all the way. You glanced over at her while she looked in the mirror and fixed her hair. 

You didn’t talk about any of it and you didn’t know what to think. Leighton was your best friend. She didn’t have feelings for you. She would’ve said something by now. This was just what it was like to have a close friend, you assumed. 

The rest of your week was fairly standard. Classes and homework sucked up your time, but you and Leighton had developed a routine that you always stuck to. You met at Sips for coffee on Monday afternoons. You ate dining hall lunch together on Tuesdays and Fridays. You walked to astro and sat together every Wednesday, and hung out at your apartment Wednesday nights before going to the observatory for your nighttime astronomy assignments. 

And in all that time, you never once discussed the cuddling, or the little kiss, so you convinced yourself that you were overthinking it and tried to let it go. 

When Friday came around, Leighton had shown up outside of your apartment building that morning with one of the fancier Ubers generously paid for by her father ready to take you to and from your surgery. 

You came outside wearing comfy clothes and she smiled and opened the car door for you.

She then got into the car on the other side and sat next to you, “I already went shopping and got everything I thought you might need this weekend to recover and I have a ton of low-energy-investment plans to make sure you don’t get bored. I’m going to stay with you for as long as you want me to, unless I drive you crazy, of course, but-”

“Leight, you didn’t have to do all of that…”

“It’s nothing! I want to take care of you.”

“You do? Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “cause I want to, why else?”

“I… I don’t deserve you, Leighton.”

“Oh, shut up. That’s not true,” she paused for a moment then said, “you’re my best friend and I love you.”

“I love you too…”

Leighton waited with you until you were taken back to be prepped and put to sleep for your wisdom teeth extraction. The last thing she said to you was, “I’ll have my camera ready for when you come out of the anesthesia!”

You stuck your tongue out at her angrily as you were whisked away and went unconscious while imagining seeing her face when you woke up again. 

You woke up in a different room, lying down flat on a recovery bed. You felt weird but not particularly bad.

Your vision came into focus slowly and the blonde was sitting in a chair beside the bed scrolling through her phone. You made a noise and she turned and looked at you, “hey there,” she said softly, sliding herself and the chair a little closer to you, “how are you feeling?”

Your mouth was all swollen and your head was all wrapped up with ice packs on either cheek. You mumbled, “fine.”

She smiled, “the dentist said everything went well so you should expect a pretty easy recovery.”

You nodded slowly then looked at her quizzically and mumbled, “do I look pretty?”

Leighton laughed, “do you look pretty? Well, I’ll admit that you’ve had better days but you’re still your gorgeous self, why?”

“I dunno… I thought maybe I wouldn’t be pretty anymore… all swollen…”

“You have nothing to worry about, trust me.”

“You’re so nice, Leighton… some people think you’re mean but you’re not mean you’re so nice… and you’re gay and I love that about you…” 

Leighton shook her head and laughed and just held your hand gently while you rested and came back to your senses over the next half hour or so. 

Leighton helped you to the car and let you lean against her on the drive back, then she helped you get comfy in your bed and made a little station nearby with drinks and foods that were safe for you to have, and pain meds if you needed them. 

She got into bed next to you and fired up Netflix before saying, “you can cuddle against me, whatever is comfy for you.” 

You nodded and said, “thank you, baby…” 

She raised an eyebrow at your word choice but didn’t say anything. You watched Netflix for a little while but you eventually dozed off against Leighton’s shoulder. You vaguely felt her playing with your hair and scratching your scalp lightly while you rested. You let out a pleased hum and cuddled against her even more closely. 

She gently woke you up later and quietly said, “I can hear your stomach growling, wanna eat something?” 

You took a second to process what she was saying but then you nodded and she grabbed a cup of applesauce for you. 

You took it happily and started to eat carefully, wincing slightly at the experience but feeling happy to have some food.

“You’re the best friend ever,” you began, “taking care of me like this… seeing me in such a pathetic state.” 

“I wouldn’t call you pathetic, not at all. You’re cute.” 

You groaned slightly.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting?” 

You shook your head, “no, no… it’s nothing, nevermind.” 

She lightly poked you in the side and made you giggle, “come on, now. You can tell me anything. Is something wrong?” 

You were quiet for a minute, thinking. Overthinking. Playing your entire friendship with Leighton back in your head.

“I see those gears turning, what are you thinking about?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to take care of me,” you finally stated. 

Leighton looked concerned, “What? Why not? Am I bugging you?” 

“No!” You exclaimed, “no… you’re perfect… that’s the problem.” 

“I don’t understand…” 

“You’re so perfect. So perfect. And incredible. And beautiful. And I think I’m an idiot.” 

“An idiot? You’re not an idiot… I’m lost, babe, what is this about?” 

“I’m so stupid,” you sighed, “you’re never not going to see me as more than a friend are you?”

Leighton stared at you. 

“I don’t want to be cute,” you tried to explain, “I don’t want to be just cute to you… I want more… but I’ve gone and fucked it up…” 

Leighton started to understand and nodded slowly, “okay, first of all, I just want to state for the record that you have some pretty serious painkillers in your system right now, but with that being said, you haven’t fucked anything up… why would you think that?” 

You started to tear up, you couldn’t help it, “you’re never going to like me now… not after seeing me like this. I took too long trying to figure out my feelings…”

Leighton’s brows furrowed, “I like you plenty, this doesn’t change that… wait, what feelings?” 

“My feelings… for you… you’re my best friend, Leight… and I thought that was just how it was always going to be… but I think it’s more than that for me and I just didn’t realize and it’s too late…” 

Leighton took a deep breath in through her nose and spoke softly, “it’s not too late…” 

You looked up at her face and saw tears welling up in her eyes.

“It’s not too late,” she repeated, “not for you and me… I’ll wait for you forever. I’ve been waiting for you to be ready…” 

“Leighton… what?” 

“I love you, you incredible, oblivious sweetheart.” 

You were genuinely shocked, and your reaction was only amplified by how loopy you were feeling, “what?! You love me?! Like, love, love me?” 

Leighton laughed, “yes. I thought I was being obvious!” 

“You love me?!” You exclaimed again. 

Leighton wrapped her arms around you in a hug, “I love you. Are you trying to say that you have feelings for me, too?” 

“Yes! That’s what I’m trying to say… I love you, too, Leighton. I really love you. More than a friend. I want to kiss you and I want to be your girlfriend. I don’t want you to go on dates with anyone else. I want to cuddle with you every night. I want you.” 

Leighton’s smile was the biggest you’d ever seen it, “that’s what I want, too.”

You looked at her and then your face fell into a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t kiss you!”

Leighton laughed lightly, “that’s okay. We’ll kiss when you’re all better, but for now…” she leaned in and gave you a kiss on your forehead, “there.”

You smiled and nuzzled against her, cuddling closely once again, and whispered, “I love you, Leighton.”

“I love you, too.”

[ratridingaskateboard]

Tear You Apart

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader!

TW: 18+, wet dream, p in v, cursing, bdsm, sexual acts, sexual fantasies, etc.

A/N: The trigger warnings would be too long if I mentioned every sexual act ever done in this story. We would be here all day!!

Synopsis: Eddie has had a crush on Y/n since the day she stepped foot into Hawkins High School. After constantly fantasizing about her, will fantasy finally become a reality?

-

The second Y/n waltzed her way into the main hall of Hawkins High, Eddie was awe-struck. She was clad in a bleached jean jacket capped in patches and pins of metal and rock bands. Many of them Eddie hadn’t even heard of. The Black Sabbath t-shirt she wore had been ripped to shreds, showing only a tanktop underneath. Her plaid red skirt swayed as she walked and had boys and girls anticipating for a gush of wind to reveal what was hidden under that scanty piece of clothing. To no one’s surprise, within minutes of walking in she was quickly pulled into the principal’s office for dress code violations.

The hall had erupted into gossip over who this mystery girl was. No one at Hawkins had a single clue who she was or why she chose their school to be graced with her presence. Eddie had never seen anyone like her in Hawkins, if he had he would’ve known. Just seeing what she was wearing made the blood rush to his cheeks but the second he saw her patched covered jacket he was practically on his knees.

This was his chance to finally get with a girl who he shared similar interests with. Don’t get him wrong, Eddie loved getting laid no matter what type of girl it was. But most girls had little to no interest in Eddie, they just wanted to see what it was like to fuck the school freak. They didn’t complain but they didn’t speak about it either. He was, to put it simply, a conquest. Now he had the ability to be around someone who, he hoped, wouldn’t shun him away like the others.

Eddie’s friends gathered around him at his locker, passing comments about the new girl and her clothing.

“God- I hope they don’t give her a pair of pants to wear.” Gareth hissed under his breath.

“I think I saw her bra underneath her shirt” Jeff added.

“The second you guys see a girl you are like dogs! I am surrounded by barbarians!” Dustin was quick to be the voice of reason. It was hard for teenage boys to view any girl as a person much less a girl who showed a little skin.

“You’re right Dustin. Did you see her jacket? It was covered in Metal patches. She seems cool.” Eddie finally added.

“Sorry Eddie- I was a little busy looking at other pieces of clothing she was wearing.” Gareth said.

Eddie rolled his eyes. One of the things Wayne had taught Eddie once he had reached puberty was to be a gentleman. Apparently, Gareth was not given this pep talk. Obviously, Eddie was attracted to her but he had to push down the want to tear her clothes off in order to form a relationship with her.

Hours had passed and she was still no where to be seen. Eddie assumed the principal must have sent her home with the list of violations she had achieved on the first 15 minutes she was inside the school.

Lunch was no different than usual except for the extra chatter of the mysterious new girl and her fondness for revealing clothing. Eddie pushed the food around on his lunch tray, disgusted by the unknown meat with the rancid smell.

“Hey-“ A gentle hand pressed against Eddie’s shoulder. The smell of cigarettes and vanilla filled his nostrils. Eddie looked up to see his friends wide eyed, staring at this unknown figure behind him.

“I like your Dio patch. That’s my favorite album by them.”

Eddie moved his neck to look at her but he found himself too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. Instead, his eyes focused on the jacket she wore, naming each band in his head- trying to get his mind off the absolute fool he was making of himself.

Shit, her hand was still on his shoulder. His face turned to a shade of red he didn’t believe was possible to achieve unless in scorching hot weather.

“Don’t mean to be an asshole but your sewing isn’t the best.” She traced a line with her finger against the trim of the patch. Eddie could still feel the softness of her fingertips even through the denim of jacket and cotton of his shift. Suddenly, Eddie felt the warmth of her breath against his ear.

“If you ever need someone to teach you, I would love to.”

Her hand moved back to his shoulder and lightly squeezed it, sending spikes of electricity through his spine. Then, she was gone.

Eddie’s face remained just as red as before. His fellow Hellfire members tried to help him regain consciousness but Eddie remained silent. He was stunned. He had never felt so weak. She toyed with him and he didn’t even fight back. He had never felt so powerless. In most situations he had had with girls, he was the one who approached and the one who lead. But, she… she was different.

“Eddie, dude, you should probably go to the bathroom.” Jeff patted Eddie’s shoulder, finally getting his attention.

Eddie looked down to find his dick as stiff as a board in his pants. Jesus Christ, he needed to get his shit together. This girl was messing with his fucking head.

After a moment in the bathroom, Eddie was able to go about his day as normally as he could. He still stumbled whenever he thought of the softness of her hand or the smell of her perfume. But as long as he didn’t see her he was fine. Right?

After Hellfire, Eddie returned to the trailer he shared with his Uncle and plopped himself on his bed. God- was he exhausted. Didn’t know being teased by a girl would make him so tired. His eyes fluttered closed and he gave in.

“E-Eddie please,” Y/n wimpered, looking up at him with big doe eyes, her hands restrained behind her back.

“Please what?” Eddie persisted, his leg pushing in between her thighs, feeling the warmth of her.

“P-Please fuck me!” She huffed, grinding her hips against his thigh. She seemed so helpless now. Her dominance was subdued by him and she had become a mess of herself.

“How much do you want it?” Eddie whispered in her ear, her perfume smelled even stronger when he was this close to her neck.

“I-I want it so bad, Eddie! Please I’m begging you!” She wailed.

He loved seeing her like this. Fuck, it made him feel like he was gonna cum in his pants. He couldn’t make her wait any longer and neither could he.

He started to reach his hand under her shirt when-

He woke up. It was a dream. It was a fucking dream. And one thing he knew about dreams like these, they always end the same.

Eddie lifted his comforter to find his boxers covered with jizz as well as the sheets underneath him. Eddie’s face crumpled into a frown. He had to get her back for this.

-

A/N: Dont worry there will be a part two coming soon!!! Hope u enjoyed

[cybsoo2]

my obsessive fan

╰┈➤ synopsis — Each story is a glimpse into what your life would entail if these seven were your obsessive fans.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!bts x idol!reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.6k

╰┈➤ content warning — murder, yandere behavior, stalker behavior, kidnapping, just the usual

ੈ♡₊˚｡ over to ⇢ pt.2

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; GUYS HOBI DOESN’T ACTUALLY KILL HIMSELF!! i realize it kinda seems like he did but don’t worry he’s alright just a lil traumatized :)

—Kim Seokjin

Jin considers himself unexplainably lucky

The universe has given him a chance that he’ll never be able to deserve

One day during his first semester of college he met someone special that little did he know would change the trajectory of his life forever

Seokjin made a friend and they grew fairly close as the years went on, until one day this friend came to him with a bittersweet conversation

She was switching to online school as her dreams of becoming an idol were finally answered

Jin supported her decision and waited patiently for her debut

An Autumn song caught his ear on the day of her debut and his eyes no longer followed her form

Instead, Jin became starstruck by the lively girl who made the stage her own

Since that day, Jin only sees his relationship with your member as insignificant

He only cares to engage with them when it involves you

Seokjin is a snake with his words and uses his charms to his advantage

He’ll manipulate and lie his way into getting new information about you

Although, sometimes it’s slightly suspicious when almost every time they hangout is when you’re tagging along

He really has just turned your co-worker into a tool at his disposal

At the most lowly point of his life, he even resorted to flirting with the foolish girl in order to sneak into your dorms

Granted, this repulsive act brought up serpents in his stomach and he had to restrain himself from the gags that tore up his throat

He wound up drowning himself in mouthwash to try and get rid of the rancid taste that never seemed to leave his lips (He was tempted to almost bury himself in bleach but resisted)

This traumatic event did have an upside though, as he was able to creep into the dark corners of your bedroom when his other companion was asleep

Unfortunately, you were not safely sleeping under his watch but just being able to stand in the place he frequently hallucinates about is enough for him

His consciousness moves into a dream-like state as he takes in everything that your fingers have touched

His heart flutters while silently sweeping his gigantic hands over your stuffies and sheets

He takes a seat on your bed and breathes in the reflection of your spirit

Shaking hands reach for the sweater tossed to the left of him

His lips quiver and he can’t hold back the sobs that force their way of him

His misty moon-eyes shine in the light that passes through your curtains

Blue bleeds from his curled up body and coats every surface of your previously vivid room

He despises the way his rotten emotions have blended into your walls

Nibble fingers then quickly gather any item that has sucked up his sorrow (At least that’s what he tells himself)

He’ll take these souvenirs of your sunshine and cherish them until that delightful day arrives when you eventually take their place

—Min Yoongi

He’s your producer and songwriter

Articles and fan sites have become fascinated and praise the poetic nature of your songs

Each line is drowning in lovesick emotion that carries the weight of the human soul

Each song is unique with a variety of tales telling love and sorrow combined with hateful rage and tortuous terror

Every lyrics he writes is a vow to love you

It’s not a surprise how romantic and illusionary his songs end up being, his heart always sings for you after all

Every time your songs win an award he feels as if his love is validated

And every time a songs fails to reach an achievement, he sobs for days on end, promising to do better

He will not let his words fall flat and be mistaken for empty oaths

His apartment is an archive, full of stacked books overflowing with the words of adoration that never stop their cascade

A graveyard of blue pens (your favourite colour of course) lies in the corner of his living room, each scripted soldier aiding to the thousands of verses written in your honour

Above the TV playing visions of you, are the hundreds of awards placed delicately upon his shelves

You’ll have to excuse his selfish desires but he couldn’t stop himself from taking them

Each award is a golden reassurance that his love for you is reality and the world is aware of it too

It’s even better that these trophies were once held lovingly in your hands

He used to trace the ghost of your fingertips along the lines of the figurine 

Although, once he realized his tainted touch smudged away your memory, he cut his fingertips off in a panic and laid them up on his wall where they've stayed still ever since

Drifting away from painful memory and onto thoughtful perceptions, in a competition between your siren singing and your sweet spoken call, your regular voice comes as a close second

Each sonnet you speak is that much more meaningful due to the fact that what you say are the words he wrote

An angelic tone constantly fills the silence of his apartment from dusk to dawn

It’s even more euphonious watching you perform in the studio

He can’t help his glossy eyes from floating to stare at your open lips

Whilst your silver voice is the constant background noise that fills his head, Yoongi finds time to record you speaking light-hearted chit chat during your recording sessions

When the time comes and Yoongi must make his way home, he walks slow in the studio but sprints on the sidewalk

His rush can be contributed to the fact that Yoongi is always inspired to work on some arrangements when provided with new material

He’ll cut and paste the pieces of his collection and create new paragraphs that he pretends you said to him

Yoongi sees your life as a duet

Neither complete without the other

He used to sing in silence but his voice is so insincere compared to yours

And he takes pride in the way your career and prosperity relies on him so much

You two are so trusting in one another yet a step to far away

It’s a pity Yoongi’s too accepting of his life with you to risk taking it a step further

—Jung Hoseok

In Hoseok’s realm of reality, you are both undoubtedly in love with one another

Yet your relationship is a secret, kept hidden away from prying eyes and stuffed into the back of his closet where cardboard cutouts and posters sleep

Hobi’s too shy and nervous for his undying love to be publicized, so he’ll just stick to supporting you from the sidelines

He has a YouTube channel where everything and anything is all about you

His favourite segment is unboxing the hundreds of albums he purchases for everyone of your comebacks

Before cutting open the wrapping he’ll wish and beg to see your face so much it’s almost satanic

When he pulls your photocard he almost faints in excitement but when his hands are dirtied by pulling the face of another one of your members he ends up trashing the card

Speaking of your photocards, his collection includes every single card that can be found

Binders upon binders are filled with your face and when he ends up doing a tour for his channel, the video ends up being over 30 hours long

Hoseok’s favourite hobby involves curling up in his bed and cradling your limited edition twin plushie in his crushing embrace

He nestles up to the faux sense of security, stroking the soft fabric and pretending it’s you

Soft yet erratic gasps tumble from his warm mouth

His head controls the ghosts of you that creates strawberry cheeks

A sensitive smile paints it’s way onto a caramel canvas

His body grows hot as his hopeless fantasies drive him into delusion

Swollen lips begging out to brush up against yours

His eyes hang heavy lidded with overblown pupils 

His previous crying mellows down as trembling whines grow needier

He daydreams about how you’d feel held up against him

A raw, rose-bud blooming between the both of your bodies

His heart trembles, overwhelmed by your hands tugging at his hair and dragging your peachy, plush mouth across his neck

Honey hot hands grip harder to the sheets beneath him

You make him so weak

Heat pools below his stomach, all strung up in pretty pleasure

Pressure building and body temp rising, Hoseok’s lost in a fool’s paradise

After every climax in utopia, Hobi is hit with the reality of his predicament

The rainy nights that follow look something like this…

Hoseok gets his head bashed in by a reality check

His brain is blown to bits, bleeding south along his bathroom tiles

Venom pulses through his veins as he wishes the world would lose it’s mania

Veracity is Hoseok’s enemy but it’s a good thing he’s hopeful

—Kim Namjoon

You make Namjoon so curious

His thirst grows stronger in need of consuming any knowledge slightly related to your existence

Namjoon knows you better than the gods who created you

He’s your worshipper who knows your wants and needs of the past, present and future

Namjoon always keeps updated about your schedules, personal plans, and tiny details which other fans have shared

He keeps a binder stocked full of information

The binding is bursting and pages threaten to flutter out of their place

He’s set aside every Wednesday and Friday to study your life and it’s interesting habits

Saturdays are for quizzes which he forces his roommates to participate in

He’s even started to live his life exactly like yours in order to feel closer to you

This includes him eating the same meals you do and visiting places you’ve been photographed at just minutes after its been posted

He’ll never miss out on purchasing all products you endorse or are seen using

He’s even tailored his style to match your own (He’s always been a fan of couples clothing)

And Namjoon, ever the worrier, is anxious that all your lives, messages, and posts are in danger of being corrupted and lost forever, so he downloads all your content into an archive for safe keeping

Namjoon is a worshipper, dedicating his devotion to your entirety

In a walnut wardrobe with a false backing is where your shrine meets his eyes in the early morning and late night

Of course it’s adorned with the finest and most expensive amenities

Jewelry, love notes scribbled onto loose-leaf paper, totems of the gods luck, and a single golden lock of your hair (Don’t ask him how he got it)

The centrepiece held in this sacred sanctuary is a painted portrait of yours truly

Namjoon’s never been much of an artist but it would be such a travesty not to document your desirable beauty

Every fine features flows into the next, blurred together with emotion and sentiment

He spend almost all the hours of his wake languishing away in an attempt to perfect every detail

He persisted in his laborious ways until every curve, divot, and colour matched that of your own

When a year has faded away and his mastery is finished, pearl droplets of ecstasy and varnish are used to seal it

His half of the shared flat he lives in resembles more of an art gallery and archive then an actually home

No part of Namjoons personality, hobbies, or are emotions are his own

All this mania and madness is for you

The generous god who was gracious enough to let him love you

—Park Jimin

Jimin is your #1 fan

He was there as you built your career from the bottom and has supported you in every way possible

Every album you produce winds up in his grasp and every song is played on repeat the minute of release

He’s watched every video you’ve ever featured in 100 times over

Posters of you are plastered over every inch of his room, some photos even spilling out into the hallway

Jimin’s favourite lullaby is the sound of your siren song that flows from his CD player every night

Your sugary, sweet voice slithers deep into his thoughts every moment of every day

You are the best things that has ever happened to him… but also the worse

Park Jimin is so fucking jealous

He’s always had trouble containing the fiery beast that lies unsettled in his stomach, yet lately it’s been getting bad

He sees the way you interact with your members and he doesn’t think they’re good for you

They hide your true potential under fake smiles that smear their scarlet lip gloss

He hates only being able to watch as ‘fans’ cover you in filth

His hatred has almost boiled over so many times that he had to stop going to fan-meets

Jimin would never lie to you but he can’t let you see him like this

Death would be a better fate than seeing the disgust that would splatter across your face at the sight of him in such a state

Crystal rain already begins to fall down his face at the mere inclination

The sour words you would spit at his feet and your hardened glare that would piece his chest

However, this doesn’t mean all that he’s done to show his love already is a lie 

He not interested in deceiving you, and the truth is that Jimin is so very sensitive

He’s caring and emotional, selfless when it comes to showing his worth

But sometimes Jimin feels that there’s two sides to him

A twisted twin that he’s so very tired of pushing down

Jimin is growing weak and he isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to contain the monster that’s ripping apart his rib cage

—Kim Taehyung

Taehyung is your eternal shadow

He follows you in the light of day and stalks you in the dark of night

Having Taehyung as your obsessive fan would be like an undying disease

His entire life revolves around you

You are his universe

The first time he caught a glimpse of your face he rushed home to etch the memory onto paper

A fire ignited in his lungs where the smoke billowed out into short, wispy breathes

By the time the next day rolls around he still sits hunched over his desk drawing doodles of you in his notebook

This nights insomnia foreshadows many more sleepless nights spent studying pictures of you

After many weeks his drawings became too lifeless and he yearns for a stolen look at your features once again

The months that follow involve Taehyung spiralling into a new insanity

He quit his job and left his apartment, all in search for a closer spot to you

Taehyung and you share the same silhouette

This is proven in the way he pursues your every move

His new expensive camera captures every moment his eyes fail to catch

The walls of his room are covered in pictures of you taken by his artistic eye

He loses himself in the dreams these candids encourage and traces the outlines of your image as daylight falls

So lost in his own mania he catches himself mumbling your name in place of his friends and mistakes strangers scent in similarity to yours

As time grows old, Taehyung becomes bolder, more infatuated and impatient

This masochist like to tease himself with your touch, stealing the skin he meets when his stalking becomes more akin to silent assault

He takes the risks that put your whole relationship in stake

His crimes double in number as his obsession becomes insatiable

His delusions morph into a place of real-life euphoria as clarity escapes his mind

Last night, right when the clock aged 11 in the absence of light, he stepped foot into your domain

He hasn’t been thinking straight lately, too blinded by his fantasies to consider the consequences

He crawls over to your bed where heaven lies in a slumbering state

He’ll let his throat tear itself to sheds speaking his heart-felt confessions to you

“I’m crazy about you.” Two kisses laid to bed on the crest of your chest

“You’re the center of my world.” Bed sheets rustle as he pulls himself closer

“I’m completely, and utterly devoted to you.” He melts into your unconscious embrace

When the sun wakes, he takes his time dragging himself off of you and out the door

Let’s see how far Kim Taehyung is willing to test his temptations before he destroys it all

—Jeon Jungkook

“You’re the one I’m dreaming of, in endless love, you’re my forever.”

Jungkook’s love for you is infinite, yet despite his honest intentions, the execution of his attachment can be quite clumsy

It seems that your love is so shocking that it electrocuted his mind

Your breathe so toxic that it ties him up in a tongue-twister, tripping over his words for the days to follow

Body so heavenly that his brain has melted into mush upon your first encounter

Jungkook first spotted you on a billboard in the city and he swore he could see the stars in your eyes

Since then he dove head-first into everything there was to know about you

He schedule practically matches yours too a tee

Although this was not without great struggle, after losing his job, blowing his rent money, and setting fire to his friendships, Jungkook has endured everything in order to be close to you

He makes sure to attend all your events, concerts, fan-meets, and all things in between

He’s the one who shouts your name the loudest, he gives you the biggest gifts, and he sends you the most love letters

Practically every one of your fans knows who he is at this point

Jeon Jungkook is a psycho fan who stalks you, is blacklisted from almost every venue (But that never stops him from finding a way in), and has had rumours of assaulting other fans who get in his way

His obvious obsession is also what leads him to check all articles, management posts, and your social media every night

This is was leads him to a harrowing discovery

“Unfortunately, popular k-pop idol L/N Y/N has fa-” He never finished the sentence before he threw up

Checking back on the article his concern became reality as news of you being injured broke his barely beating heart

The ice water drifting through his veins pours out of him in the form of desperate teardrops

Ear-shattering wailing disrupts his neighbours sleep and Jungkook's crying continues on for the rest of the night

The only solution to his misery comes to him in a disfigured dream

Jungkook makes his way to your apartment on an evening that borders on sunset

Fresh flowers are placed in front of your door accompanied with a hundred page note and a stinging smile

He hopes that this will cheer you up in your times of great distress

…His plans end up backfiring completely

The next night you go live and Jungkook waits athirst for the words you’re about to speak

“Please, please stop coming to my home. I can’t trust or appreciate anyone who so blatantly ignores my privacy and safety. If I have to beg you to stop stalking me then how can I even call you my fans?”

You think he doesn’t love you?

No, no, no, no, he loves you, oh god he loves you so much

Why can’t you see it?

Can you not tell just how much his heart screams out for its other half?

Do you not notice all the agony he has endured, and will continue to endure, in the name of your happiness?

This revelation brings on a fit of hysteria 

Fears squeezes the air out of his lungs as he hyperventilates on the living room floor

Wet words are yelled out between sobs and pleads for your love

His tears don’t stop flooding his eyes as he lies helplessly on the wooden floorboards that soak up the sadness

Hours border on days as he lays limpless

He doesn’t eat nor sleep yet only mumbles a hopeless mantra that he prays will reach your ears

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you-” 

Poor, pathetic Jungkook

All those days sitting in sorrow allow a dire idea to fester within his mind

Termites of idiocy tore apart his brain and spat out of the lovelorn remains

Perhaps this distance is what’s limiting your sight of his loving languish

He wants to be closer to you, craves it, no, needs it to survive in this confusing world that pins you two against each other

So all this thinking leads him to kidnap you from your dorm

He shushes your scream with the hand held over your mouth (one that also holds a wet rag submersed in chloroform)

When you wake you’re disoriented and full of confusion

You’re faced with an unfamiliar ceiling and dark shadows that spiral into your sight

The only strong force that keeps you connected to this world are the arms wound tight around your torso

The muffled man comforts your crying before you can notice his own

“Now I can finally show you how much I love you.”

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved ‎

[bqstqnbruin]

Tattoos of You

Look, I know this gif is ancient but I love this one don't judge me.

ANYWAY here I am with my entry for @wyattjohnston's summer 2024 fic exchange! I had the pleasure of writing for @senditcolton so I hope you enjoy this because I have literally been thinking about this fic so much for the last like three months (yes I have been working on this idea for too long)

These following links are some of the tik toks that I used for inspo for this fic: X X X X X

Special shoutout to @nicohischier for reading this the entire time I was writing it, love you (I swear you'll get a happy fic at some point)

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, aNGST (Nicole you asked for it)

WC: 11k

________________________________

an open book with a sunset coming out of it

The sun was shining, children were running around and laughing, people were splashing around in the water.

Colette was under an umbrella, trying to stay in its shade as much as possible, with a hat on her head and her sunglasses on. 

“Can you please enjoy yourself?” Becca asks. 

“This is as close to enjoying myself as you’re going to get,” Colette mumbles, not looking up from the book that she was reading. It’s not that she hated the beach, it’s that she hated the sun, the sand, the heat, the noise, the crowds of people.

Maybe she did hate the beach.

“Do you want to go back up to the house?” The house was not much better: the AC barely worked when they got in last night, and Colette spent most of the night not sleeping because of how hot the room was. She was also pretty sure that there was a raccoon somewhere in the walls of the house, since the scratching she could swear was coming from behind her head when she was in her bed only happened at night, and magically stopped once the sun came up. 

“Do you want to go back to the house?” Colette asks.

“Not at all.” 

“Well, I’m not going to walk the two miles back alone, am I?”

Becca rolls her eyes, shielding them from the sun despite the huge sunglasses on her face. She looks out to the water and lets out a long sigh. “Everyone else is in the water having fun, why don’t we join them?”

Colette makes a face as she looks out at the rest of her friend group. They were playing some horrible version of chicken, given the fact that she was sure she and Becca were the only ones sober at this point. “Then when you get out of the water, the sand sticks to you because you’re all wet and it’s impossible to get off.” 

“You’re, like, the only person I know who hates the beach this much.”

“I wanted to go to a cabin near the lake we used to go to when we were younger, and you all wanted to ‘try something new,’” Colette points out. “I told you I didn’t like the beach, but you guys said you wouldn’t go away without me.” 

Becca rolls her eyes again, “That’s because we like you, Lettie. You’re the responsible one in the group.” 

Becca gets up without another word, going to join the rest of their friends in the water. “Great,” Colette mumbles, going back to her book.  

She loses track of time, her friends never even coming back to talk to her while she finishes one book and quickly moves on to the next. The people around her come and go, the beach slowly emptying out as people leave for dinner. She wasn’t sure how long her friends would last without food, given the amount of alcohol they had consumed and how little they had come back to their spots in the sand to even grab the snacks they ran around packing that morning. 

“Watch out!” she hears coming from her left, a ball hitting the book out of her hands and into the sand a few feet away before she even has the chance to react.

“You bastards,” she shrieks as two guys come running over to get the ball. “That’s a library book.” 

“Your book is fine,” one of them says, holding up the book with two fingers as if it had a disease or something else rancid oozing out of it. 

“Are you ok?” the other one asks, Colette holding up her hand to shield her eyes so she could at least see the guys she was scowling at with the sun behind them. 

Despite her anger at them for nearly probably injuring her, they were, unfortunately for her, attractive. Not that made her less angry, but if Becca were there next to her, she would somehow manage to force Colette to acknowledge it to their faces. 

“I’m fine, but my book is not,” she says, ripping the thing out of the darker haired boy. “You ripped one of the pages when you picked it up.”

The one with lighter hair looked behind his friend, scoffed and thrust the ball into his friend's chest to pick up the now missing page. “You’re giving her money to pay for a replacement book,” he says, handing Colette the page.

“Fine, I’ll give her the ten dollars.”

“This book cost twenty five,” she tells him, showing him the price from the back of the book.

“Books are twenty five dollars?” he scoffs. “For what?”

“If you could read above a fourth grade reading level, maybe you would know,” Colette mutters, earning a laugh from the lighter haired boy. 

“I’m not paying that much for a book.”

“You’re the one who kicked the ball that ruined her book. You’re the one who’s going to pay for her to replace it so she doesn’t have to. You get, like, a hundred and seventy five thousand dollars a week for your paycheck, you can handle twenty five dollars, you jackass.”

Colette nearly chokes when she hears the number he casually spit out, the two sending themselves into a bickering match over the money. She gets out her phone, wincing as she stands up for the first time in hours to hand it to the dark haired boy. “Send the money here.”

He starts mumbling something under his breath, Colette rolling her eyes as he does as instructed. One of the guys from their group calls for them, him running back to them with the ball.

“Sorry about Mat,” his friend says, standing over Colette as she sits back down.

“He seems like a delight,” she deadpans, trying to hide the combination of disgust and excitement as he sits down with her, laughing at her words.

“He’s an asshole,” he tells her, squinting as he looks out at the water. Colette couldn’t help but study him, the green of his eyes, the sharp angle of his jawline, his somehow perfectly styled hair, all combining to something she didn’t understand her need to look at. “And thankfully, my opposite.”

“People don’t talk like that,” Colette blurts out before thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“‘And thankfully, my opposite,’” she imitates him, lowering her voice and earning another laugh from him. “That’s something people say in rom coms.”

“You’re awfully judgemental for someone who doesn’t have to pay for a damaged book.”

Colette laughs, a smile forming on his face that, for some reason, she didn’t want to stop seeing. “It’s part of my charm. I’m Colette, by the way.”

“Anthony.”

Colette loses track of time again, not because of her now ruined book. Becca eventually comes back, as do the rest of the friends, letting her know that they were running to grab food before coming back to watch the sunset. Anthony’s friends had seemingly all but forgotten about him, at one point leaving without him realizing it, only to come back with Colette’s friends with food for both of them. 

“You guys came all the way to Canada when you live in Pittsburgh?” Mat asks.

“We go somewhere every year together, Lettie picked Vancouver for her turn,” Eddy says.

“I did not pick the beach, though,” she says, only loud enough for Anthony to hear. 

“Glad you did,” he replies, again, only loud enough for her to hear. He smiles at her, his hand inching towards hers in the sand as the sun sets over the water. 

a tent on the ground with a pine tree next to it, the moon and shooting star over both

“Those guys from the beach said they wanted to go camping with us this weekend,” Eddy says during their group facetime. 

Becca immediately started making plans of who was driving with who, Addison talking about the tents and sleeping bags she could borrow from her dad and brothers from their scouting days, Devyn talking about the food they would be able to bring, Franco talking about the beer. 

“Hold on, guys,” Colette interrupted, doubting that any of her friends was actually listening to the others. “Since when do we camp?”

“Since hot guys ask us to,” Eddy says.

“You liked those guys?” Colette asks, the rest of her friends laughing at her.

“Oh, come on, Lettie,” Addison teases her. “You ignored us for the entire three days we were there because you were talking to Anthony.” 

Colette rolls her eyes, thankful that her friends couldn’t see the rapid succession of texts from Anthony appearing on her screen at that moment. She didn’t want to tell them that they were right that she liked talking with him that weekend two months ago, so much so that she had been texting him almost as often as she was texting the group chat. She didn’t want to admit that she thought she was starting to fall for a guy she had only interacted with in person once, because who the hell did that? 

But, this was an excuse to see him again, without her friends nagging her about her crush, that may or may not exist, in a way that wouldn’t be a date. 

“I’m not driving.” 

“Does that mean you’re coming?” Eddy asks, all of her friends faces’ way too close to their cameras for her to do anything other than groan.

“Unfortunately.” 

By the time they got to the camping site, the guys already had enough tents set up for a small army. Eddy stops the car, Devyn and Franco getting out and immediately starting to unpack the trunk full of their stuff. 

“Damn,” Eddy drools, Colette laughing. “I never knew setting up tents was hot.”

“It’s not.”

Eddy fans himself, taking in a deep breath. “It is once you realize that that active bakery over there is attached to your boyfriend.” 

Colette cringes, trying not to let Eddy see her looking at Tito with his back towards them, bent over at his waist, his ass right there. “Not my boyfriend.”

“Not yet, babe,” Eddy corrects her. “That could change tonight.”

“And how, praytell, do you see that happening?”

“You’ll share a tent with him, you’ll share all your secrets, fall madly in love, get married with me as the bridesman of honor, of course, have tons of babies, and die in each others arms like that one couple on the Titanic.” 

“You could eat and shit out a bunch of Scrabble tiles and whatever they spelled out would still make more sense than whatever just came out of your mouth,” she says, getting out of the car just as Becca and Addison pull up behind them. 

Eddy laughs, locking the car doors. “Just because I don’t make sense to you doesn’t mean I’m not right. I’ve never seen two people who align so well before you and Tito. You are so meant to be.”

Colette laughs. “I’ll remember that next time you’re fawning over Devyn and Franco’s relationship,” she tells him, gesturing over to their two friends who had already claimed a tent to share together. 

Eddy had a sly smile forming on his face, one that Colette knew was going to lead to something she hated. “Hey, Anthony,” he calls.

Anthony perks up once he sees who calls his name, Colette telling herself that it was simply because he heard his name and he had ‘golden retriever vibes’ in general, not because he saw her, despite the fact that he was looking at her the entire time he came over. “What’s up, Ed?”

Eddy visibly swoons at the sound of Anthony calling him a nickname, trying to collect his composure before Anthony actually notices or Colette calls him out for it. “Lettie here said that she wanted to share a tent with someone since she’s never been camping before.”

“What?”

“Ok?”

“Well, I snore like a jet ski, so I would never want to subject our girl to that,” Eddy continues, throwing his arm around Colette and pulling her close to him, throwing her off balance, “So we were wondering if you wanted to share with her?”

“Oh!” Anthony says, his face turning red. Colette tries to discreetly pinch Eddy’s side as payback, her heart racing as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I was going to ask you that anyway, but I guess you beat me to it.” 

Eddy walks away without another word, leaving an angry Colette and an embarrassed Anthony behind in his wake. “He’s lying, I’m fine on my own if you don’t-”

“You don’t-” he cuts her off, looking down at the ground, “You don’t want to share a tent?”

“No, I mean,” she starts, trying to find the right words. How do you tell someone you want to be near them without it sounding weird? “If you want to, I wouldn't say no to sharing.”

“Oh, I want to,” he says quickly, a small laugh escaping his lips that matched Colettes. “I want to.”

Colette could feel her face getting hot as she smiled at him. “Let’s go set up our tent?”

Their friends wander off again, just like the day they met at the beach, as the day wore on, leaving Anthony and Colette to finish setting up where they were going to start their fire for the night. 

“Hold on,” Colette says, trying not to laugh so hard that she couldn’t get the words out, “She threw what?”

“A dildo.”

“So that photo you sent me of your black eye from last season?”

Anthony’s face was bright red, biting his lip and nodding, “Yeah. yeah, it wasn’t from practice. It was from Tamsin throwing a dildo at me when she thought I was breaking into our apartment.”

Colette cackled, the ugliest sounding laugh she had ever heard bubbling up from her stomach. “I’m so sorry.”

“Like you’ve never had any embarrassing encounters with an ex.”

“The worst I’ve had is a guy named Mason sprinkled packets of those instant mashed potatoes around the lawn outside my apartment complex after a bad break up when we were in college.”

“How’d you know it was him?”

“He texted me right before it rained asking if I liked mashed potatoes, and then I never heard from him again.” 

Anthony laughs, the voice in Colette's head telling her that she wanted to hear that sound as much as she could. They keep talking about nothing as the sun sets, starting the fire before it gets too dark out.

“So,” Anthony says, sitting down on one of the chairs, the shadows from the flames illuminating every Colette had been mesmerized by the first time they met. “We’ve got Dildo Throwing Tamsin and Mashed Potato Mason as our exes.” 

“I think they’d like each other,” she laughs, plopping down on a chair next to him. Colette looks up to the sky. The stars streaked the sky like nothing she had ever seen before. She knew there were millions of stars up there, but she never thought she would see them. “God, you never get to see the stars with all the city lights. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” she hears Anthony say, his face red yet again when she turns her attention to him and smiles. Before she can say anything, he starts, “Do you think we can see each other?”

“Do you think I’m imaginary or something?”

“No, I mean,” he starts, the sounds of their friends coming back to start eating making him jump. He pulls his chair so close to Colette’s they practically overlap as he lowers his voice. “Can we go out when we’re back in the city? Just the two of us?”

Colette felt her face getting hot again, charmed by the nerves he showed around her. “Yes.” 

a mirror with an outline of a head in it, no face

“What are you doing right now?”

“I’m getting ready for work.”

“Do you want to hang out?”

“Did you not hear me?” 

Colette hears Anthony laugh on the other end of the phone. “I heard you, but I still want to hang out. I miss you.”

Colette cringed as she felt her heart skip a beat. She hated that she missed him too, and she wanted to see him, but, “I have to leave in the next two minutes if I want to be on time for my meeting, I can’t. What about tonight?”

“We have a home game at seven tonight. Tomorrow morning?”

“I’m watching my cousin and taking him to his soccer game for my aunt tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“You’re not coming to watch pee wee soccer.”

“What time are you leaving to pick him up?”

“You’re really bad at listening,” Colette says, grabbing the last of her stuff as she heads out the door. 

“What time?” he repeats, clearly not going to stop until she gives him an answer as she rushes out the door. 

“I don’t remember. Can I let you know after work tonight?” 

“Sure. Talk later?” he asks, alarm bells going off in Colette’s head about something she was sure he was scheming.

He hangs up before he can say anything, leaving Colette to stew as to what he was going to do. Anthony wasn’t going to show up at her apartment when she was supposed to leave to get her cousin, was he?

“Why do you look like that?” Addison asks once she sees Colette at work. 

Colette snaps out of the trance she didn’t realize she was in, looking away from her computer for the first time in a while. “I don’t know, genetics?” she asks, a slightly offended tone in her voice. 

“No, I mean,” she says, sitting down on Colette’s desk. “You look concerned.”

Colette shakes her head. “I was just working,” she says, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes. She lets out a sigh. “Anthony was really adamant about hanging out.”

“Oh, no,” she says, fake concern dripping through her voice as Colette rolls her eyes. “The guy you’re dating wants to see you.” 

“He was kind of weird about it, though. He wanted to come over this morning, and I think he wants to hang out tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s not weird.”

“I’m watching Grayson tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And he knows that.”

“So?”

Colette rolls her eyes again out of frustration for herself. Why couldn’t she explain how she felt to her friend? “So we just saw each other, like, two nights ago. Isn’t it too soon to see each other again?”

Addison shakes her head. “Don’t you want to see him?”

“Well, yeah, but what if he’s only asking to see me because he knows I want to see him and he doesn’t actually want to see me? I have to take Grayson to his soccer game. That’s so boring. Why would he want to do that?”

Addison rolls her eyes. “Because he’s obsessed with you?”

Colette groans. “Don’t you have a meeting in a minute?”

The next morning, Colette wakes up to knocking on her door. She gets up, surprised to find Anthony standing on the other side of the door with coffees in hand. “What are you doing here?” she whines.

“You never texted me,” he tells her, pushing past her and heading to her room.

“I, uh,” she hesitates. “Sorry, I forgot.” 

Anthony sets the coffees down on her nightstand, pulling up her sheets as if he was going to start making her bed. “No you didn’t.” 

“I did,” Colette tells him, her voice sounding more sure of her lie. 

“You just didn’t text me.” 

“Look, I love taking Grayson to his soccer games when my aunt can’t, but they’re really boring for other people. Last time I took Eddy, he complained the entire time,” she explains, taking the coffee from him. “I didn’t think you’d really want to sit through that.” Colette starts to get ready, sitting in front of the mirror in her room to get her hair together. 

She makes eye contact through the glass with Anthony as he sits down on her now made bed. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” 

a cartoon cinnamon bun

Anthony had his arms around Colette before they were even through the door, pinning her against the wall outside her apartment, his lips on hers. They had been like this since they were in the bar with the rest of their friends, them being teased that they needed to get a room. Since Anthony’s eyes got darker when he turned to her, his hands on her waist as he asked her who’s place was closer for them to get in a bed as soon as possible. 

They barely made it through her door and had it shut when Anthony’s fingers danced along the hem of her shirt, pleading with her to take it off and practically ripping his off at the same time. Anthony and Colette stumbled their way to her bed, nearly losing contact with each other when they collapsed onto her mattress, skin to skin and Colette already deliriously happy. 

They woke up the next morning, the sheets a mess, their clothing in a trail leading from her entryway to her bed. Colette’s phone was somehow on her nightstand next to her, buzzing continuously for what seemed like any hour. Anthony let out a groan, a result of the hangover he was probably feeling. 

“Don’t get it,” he mumbles into her pillow, his arm wrapped around her pulling her closer. She could feel herself relax as his heartbeat gently thumped against her back. It buzzes again, Anthony starting to kiss his way from the nape of her neck down her spine, a giggle escaping her lips at his attempt to distract her.

“If it’s going off this much, it has to be something bad.”

“One time it was Eddy melting down and calling to tell you he got water on his new shoes.”

Colette scrolls through her phone, multiple missed calls from her friend group as Anthony’s mouth works his way back up to her neck, propping himself up to try to get her cheeks. Another call from Eddy appears on her screen, her heart racing that something bad happened to one of her friends. 

“Hello?”

“Oh my god,” Eddy screams, “I thought Anthony murdered you.” 

Anthony and Colette laugh, Colette switching over to speaker phone even though Anthony had no problem hearing their conversation without it. “No, we were asleep. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been praying to God all morning that you were ok.”

“Eddy, it’s like 9 am, and you don’t believe in God.”

“I found God so I could pray that you were ok.”

“I didn’t realize she was lost, but sure. What’s wrong?”

“Your parents are on their way. They said they’d be at your place at 9 am.”

Colette looks at the time at the top of her screen: 8:56 am. 

“Fucking shit,” she screams, dropping her phone on her bed and practically falling over the sheets as she launched herself off the mattress to collect the clothes scattered around her floor. 

“What, what’s wrong?” Anthony calls after her, picking up what he can and throwing on the shirt that was still sitting by her front door. 

“My parents are coming.” 

“And?”

“You’re here.”

“Do you not want me here?”

Colette whips around to face him, thrusting his underwearing and pants from last night into his chest while trying to get her own shirt back over her head. “Of course, I do.” She runs past him and back into her room to throw clothes on and panic make her bed. “It’s just, you don’t have enough time to leave before they get here. And, if you’re here, then they’re going to start asking questions about whether or not you’re my boyfriend, and probably a bunch of other things, too.”

“Then we tell them I am,” Colette hears, seeing Anthony appear on the other side of her bed to help her straighten up. 

She stops, standing straight up to stare at him. “What?”

“We tell them I’m your boyfriend.” He walks around to the other side of her bed to meet her. “Unless, you don’t want me to be your boyfriend.” 

Colette opens her mouth, no words coming out. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Anthony throws his head back in laughter, pulling her in for a hug and kissing the top of her head. “Of course I do.” Colette gives him a kiss, a knock at her door pulling them apart. “You get more clothes on, I’ll go meet your parents.”

Colette scrambles to find something presentable enough for her parents liking, trying her best to fix her hair and the makeup that she never took off from the night before when she hears laughter coming from her kitchen. She finally comes out of her room, her mom’s hand over Anthony’s while her dad is animated talking to him, a pink bag from her favorite bakery near their house on the table filling the room with the scent of the cinnamon buns that made her mouth water. 

“Sweetie, we brought you some breakfast, but we didn’t know you had your boyfriend over,” her mom says, no hint of the fakeness Colette expected in her voice. 

“Why don’t we all go out for breakfast?” Anthony says, getting up from his seat, “My treat. Colette and I can have the cinnamon buns later.”

Her mother swoons as he takes her hand and leads her to the door, a wink from Anthony sent Colette’s way that made her cheeks burn. 

Her dad pulls her in for a hug, his arm around her shoulder as they follow Anthony and her mom down to his car. “Boyfriend, huh? Is he good enough for you?”

Colette hesitates, not sure why she did so before saying, “I think so.”

What if she wasn’t good enough for him?

a phone with an incoming call, no contact on the screen

“Franco, please, you’re giving me a headache,” Addison groans, her hands on her head to massage the headache away.

“No, I don’t care, you guys don’t understand how amazing she was.”

“We do, babe, I promise, but it’s 1 am,” Devyn tells him, giving him a gentle squeeze on his thigh. 

“No, you don’t get it. She has only lost the all-around once on the national and international level in the eleven years she’s been qualified for elite,” Franco argues back, launching into a rant about Simone Biles that none of them wanted to hear when they wanted to go to sleep.

Eddy groans the loudest. “I think you talk this much about your fiance,” he points out Devyn taking a minute before she realized he was right and giving Franco a glare. 

The rest of the group launches into an argument when Colette’s phone rings, Anthony’s name coming up with a picture of the two of them from one night when they fell asleep on the couch together. Eddy had taken the photo and immediately gotten a bucket of water to pour over them to wake them up because he wanted to go out and get food with someone. Despite the aftermath of the photo, seeing it made her smile every time.

“Hey,” she says, walking out of Devyn and Franco’s living room without her friends noticing. “How was the game?”

“We won,” Anthony tells her. They were on a west coast road trip that was supposed to end tomorrow with a game against Seattle. 

“Why do you sound so sad, then?” Colette asks. Before they left, he told her they needed to do well this road trip in order to get into the wild card spot since the playoffs were right around the corner. They needed this win to get the cap between them and the next team even wider.

He lets out a long sigh. “I didn’t really play that well or that much.”

Colette could hear the sadness in his voice. She knew that he had been bouncing around to a few teams in the last couple of years, finally finding what he hoped was a more permanent home in Pittsburgh. “Did anyone score while you were on the ice?”

“No.”

“Did you get an assist or score?”

“Two assists, yeah.”

“Then what happened?”

She knew Anthony was scrunching his face. “I don’t know, I just felt off.”

Colette nodded. “I get that.” Anthony lets out a long breath. “Are you guys leaving after the game tomorrow or the next morning?”

“I actually don’t know. I guess I’ll find out when I’m on the plane,” he jokes, Colette laughing. “I can come over whenever I get in?”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling at the thought of seeing him. “If it’s tomorrow night, just wake me up when you come in.” 

“Nah, I’ll let you sleep,” he says.

“No,” she argues, “I want to see you.” Eddy comes up behind her, making kissing noises at her. 

“Tell Eddy I can hear him,” he laughs, Colette following suit. Anthony lets out a yawn. “Ok, I’m gonna go.”

“Bye, babe.”

“I love you, bye,” he yawns, hanging up before she could say anything else. 

Colette stands there, staring at her phone with her mouth hanging open. 

“What did he do? Do I have to kill him? I have enough gas in my car and money in my bank account to drive to San Jose and commit a felony,” Eddy starts, dragging her back into the living room with the rest of their friends.

“Lettie, what’s wrong?” Addison asks.

“Anthony just told me he loves me.”

The entire group’s jaws dropped, Eddy screaming loud enough that Colette was sure Devyn and Franco's neighbors could hear him. “What did you tell him?”

Colette shook her head. “Nothing. He said it and hung up the phone.”

“That rat bastard.”

“Eddy, say something helpful for once, please?”

Her friends start asking her a hundred questions, all coming at once. Why didn’t she call him back? Was she going to tell him she loved him? When was she going to tell him? When was she going to talk to him again in the first place?

Becca asked the question that made her stop. “Do you love him?”

Colette didn’t know what to say, trying to find the words. She knew she liked him, a lot. He was probably the person she could see herself loving for the rest of her life if he would let her. 

“We should let her tell Anthony first, not us,” Devyn says, Colette letting out a little bit of an exhale as her friend told everyone it was probably time for them to go to bed.

She spent the night on their couch, Becca and Addison in their guest room, Eddy bringing his own blow up mattress and snoring on the floor near Colette. 

She barely slept. Could she tell Anthony that she loved him? She could tell him anything, but if she did, would she mean it? It shouldn’t have surprised her that he would say it first, and it didn’t even surprise her that he said it at all. What shocked her most was that she wasn’t sure what she would say back. 

Anthony was the kindest person to her, the one she wanted to call and see and be with all the time. She would do anything for him, but did that mean she loved him?

What if her love wasn’t enough? What if he ended up loving her more than she was capable of loving him? 

“Eddy,” she whispers, trying not to scare him into waking up. She throws her pillow over to his mattress, hitting his face.

“The fish escaped,” he says, startled out of whatever his dream was. He rubs his eyes, groaning. “I was just about to save the country from the dinosaur fish.”

“You can go back to that in a minute,” Colette says, turning on the lamp on the end table next to her, despite Eddy’s groans. “When you were with Alex, how did you feel when you said ‘I love you.’”

“I think I was drunk and then blacked out.” Colette groans. “Lettie, if you’re freaking out about telling him you love him, then you don’t have to tell him right now. It’s ok for you to not say it if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“That was out of character for you.”

“A stopped clock is right once a day.”

“Twice, Eddy.”

“Whatever, I’m going back to sleep. I hope this dream lets me play with kittens instead.”

Colette spent the next day stressing, running on pure anxiety due to her lack of sleep the night before. She hadn’t been able to watch Anthony’s game that night, falling asleep before it even started. She woke up Saturday morning to the sound of someone coming in her front door, hoping that it was Anthony and not an intruder.

“Colette?” Anthony calls, wandering into her bedroom to find her just sitting up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “It’s nearly two pm, are you just waking up?”

“Don’t judge, I couldn’t sleep the other night. I guess it just caught up with me now.”

“I feel like I freaked you out after the game against San Jose,” Anthony says, sitting down. They had barely talked the day before, Colette purposely avoiding him under the guise of being busy all day with something at work. It wasn’t technically a lie, she just also hid her phone in her desk and forgot about it on purpose.

“No, you di-” she starts.

“I do mean it, though,” he says, pulling her in for a hug. “I do love you.”

Colette felt her heart start to race as she felt his hand on the back of her head. She could say it. She was sure it felt right. “Anthony,” she starts, feeling herself start to sweat as she pulls away to look at him. “I love you, too.” 

Anthony smiles, kissing her.

Saying it felt just fine. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel more. 

wheel of fortune tarot card

Colette was exhausted. 

The entire last week was spent with her and Anthony unpacking all the things they had into their new apartment, trying to figure out what to get rid of and what to keep when they realized that consolidating their things meant they now had two of everything they needed to share with each other; two sets of silverware, two sets of plates and bowls, two bedroom sets, two sets of living room furniture. 

Anthony was willing to get rid of anything he needed to, but Colette was having a harder time going through her things. She didn’t mind sharing, but she wanted her own stuff. What if she, for whatever reason, had to move out, or if Anthony got traded and had to take stuff with him and left her with nothing because the stuff he took was technically “his” and not her own?

“Hey, babe,” she calls into the apartment, a little bit of an echo following her through the few rooms they hadn’t finished unpacking yet. 

“In here,” Colette hears, following Anthony’s voice into their bedroom. He was standing in front of the bookshelf he had built into the wall (by someone who knew what they were doing, not by him), putting up all the books she had brought from her old place.

“I told you I would organize these,” she told him, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, kissing his back. “I have a system.”

Anthony laughs, spinning around and hugging her back, kissing her on the lips. “Your system is ‘I have a bunch of books by this author, so they need to be together.’”

“And?”

“I’m not even touching your books yet,” he points out, turning her attention to all the boxes she left in the corner that were still, in fact, untouched. “These are my books.”

“I didn’t know you read.”

“Not all hockey players are illiterate, Colette,” he jokes, earning a laugh from her.

“No, I mean,” she starts, heading over to one of her boxes to start trying to organize them. “I know you normally don’t have time to do things other than, like, eat, sleep, and play hockey. Reading didn’t seem like something you had time for.”

“Well, you read a lot, so I thought I could do the same,” he tells her, his voice lower than normal. Colette looks up at the shelf he was putting books on; The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo and Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn amongst other books she loved and already had copies of sitting there on their own shelf. 

“I already have these, you could have borrowed them at any time,” she points out, feeling Anthony’s arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. 

“Yeah, but this way I can take them with me on the road and you’d still have your copies. I’d have a piece of you with me.”

What piece of him would she have with her while he was gone? She couldn’t think of anything as he spun her around in his arms to kiss her, feeling his smile against her lips while all she could feel was distress coursing through her.

a laundry basket full of clothes with a piece of clothing crumpled up in front of it

“What the hell?” Colette comes home from work to find that everything Anthony said he was going to get done was not done. He had promised he would get everything cleaned up before his friends came over tomorrow. “Anthony?”

Her boyfriend peers his head into the kitchen where she was standing, a smile on his face immediately fading when he sees the anger on hers. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit,” she says, gesturing around her. “This is the third day in a row that you said you would clean up.”

“I’m sorry, I got caught up.” He tells her, approaching her slowly, as if she were a tiger going to pounce on him with any sudden movement. “I’ll start now.”

Colette scoffs as he reaches out to her. He did this all the time. He would tell her that he would help her clean, especially when more than half of it was his mess to begin with, and then it always fell on her. “That’s not the point, Anthony,” she snaps at him.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t. You tell me that every time you do this. You said you would help with the laundry, and look at where all the clothes are, not even in the basket still sitting on front of the washer and dryer where you left them two days ago,” she starts, gesturing to the mountain of dirty clothes she could see in their little laundry alcove that she swore she could smell from where she was standing. “The dishes from dinner on Monday are still here because you promised me after I cooked that you would clean them, but you disappeared instead and didn’t come home until after I went to bed. You have your coffee cup sitting on the table with coffee in it that I’m pretty sure is from at least three days ago. What the fuck is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, his face getting red as he turns towards the sink to start the dishes. “And, to be fair, you do this to me all the time. I come home from road trips and find you haven’t taken out the trash the entire time, or the dishwasher hasn’t been started. I’m sorry I forgot the last couple of days, but I’ve been busy.”

Colette bit her lip, knowing he was right. She was picking a fight with him they didn’t need to have, yet here she was anyway. “With what?”

“My job?” he says, shrugging, despite the slightest hint of a wavering going through his voice. It wasn’t just hockey. They were in the middle of a homestand and he had the day off today anyway. 

Colette studies him for a second. “You’re lying to me,” she tells him. She could tell he tensed up from behind, the way he does when he’s not telling her the truth about something.

“I’m not.”

“Then what has been going on with you?”

Anthony hesitates, shaking his head and opening his mouth, clearly trying to figure out what to tell her. “Nothing. Like I said, I just got caught up.”

“With what?”

“Mat needed some help with something.” 

Colette scoffed again, walking out of the kitchen and to their bedroom. She knew Anthony was following her, but shut the door behind her anyway. “Why would Mat need your help so urgently that he, on Long Island, needed to take you away from cleaning for the entire day here in Pittsburgh?” she asks, sitting on their bed as he opens the door back up.

“I can’t tell you that, it’s Mat’s business.”

Colette nods, knowing he was still lying. She pulls out her phone, pulling up her boyfriend's best friend's contact. “Hey,” she says when he picks up, seeing the wave of panic flash in Anthonys eyes as he pulled out his phone and started typing furiously on his own phone. She knew he was texting Mat. “Have you heard from Anthony today?”

“Uh, no, why?” Mat says, Anthony throwing his head back, sucking on his teeth and muttering ‘fuck’ under his breath. 

“He just seemed a little off this morning when I left for work, I thought maybe hearing from you would cheer him up a little,” she lies to him.

“Oh, sure?” Mat tells her clearly confused before they hang up with each other.

“I can explain,” Anthony starts, sitting next to her on the bed and putting his hands in her lap. 

Colette waits for a moment. “Then do it.”

“Tomorrow, I promise.” 

She lets out a laugh. “No, now.”

“I can’t.” 

Colette stares at him for a second, him still not looking directly at her but a pleading look in his eyes. “Are you cheating on me?”

Anthony finally looks at her. “What? Of course not.”

“Then what the hell is going on?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Anthony, you know everything about me. I tell you everything,” she says, looking around at the room they shared that he filled with her favorite things. She still hadn’t figured out what she would do for him. She could feel herself starting to panic, a year since they moved in together and she still barely knew anything about him. Colette shakes her head, looking down at his hands still in her lap. “We can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“If we want to be in a relationship like this, we have to tell each other what’s going on,” she lies. She couldn’t do this anymore. 

“I told you, I can tell you tomorrow.”

“What is so important that you can’t tell me now?” she asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace. Her mind started spiraling, thinking the absolute worst of what he could be hiding from her. She was self destructing, and blaming it on him was the easier way out. She knew it was. “You’re cheating on me, you’re going to break up with me, you have a child you haven’t told me about, you’re dying or you’re seriously sick.”

“Hey woah,” Anthony says, stopping her and standing in front of her. He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Colette, why don’t you trust me?”

Colette stares at him for a second, trying to find her words. “I don’t know.” 

Anthony’s expression drops, his hands sliding down her arms as he shakes his head. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me like this.” 

Colette tries to hide the hurt that came with his statement. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t tell me the truth when I ask him for it.” The two of them stare at each other for a few moments in silence. “Does that mean we’re done?”

Anthony nods, his eyes not reaching Colette’s again. “I think so.” 

a glass looking liquor bottle with a small amount of liquid inside, a solo cup on its side tipped over in front of it

The guy in front of Colette was so cute. At least, he was cute enough to flirt with while she was drunk and still wanting more drinks she didn’t want to pay for. The cup of rum and coke in her drink never seemed to empty for long enough with him standing there with her.

She wasn’t even sure what his name was. She wasn’t sure she cared what his name was.

She was pretending to listen to him while twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers, trying her best to make it look like she was intrigued so that he would get her a refill of her almost empty drink. It wasn’t how she normally flirted, but it was working for him, so why not? 

“Lettie, babe, come on,” she hears Anthony behind her, his hands wrapping themselves around her waist and pulling her ever so slightly towards him. 

A month ago, she would have done anything to feel his body against hers like this. 

Now, she wanted nothing more than to get out of his arms. 

“Anthony,” she tries to fight.

“This your bodyguard?” the guy asks her, looking incredibly pissed off. 

“Boyfriend,” Anthony corrects him.

The guy scoffs, running his hands through his hair. “Nice.” He walks away despite her protests, not listening to her as she tries to pry herself free of Anthony’s grasp. 

He laughs, leading her back to their friends. Colette sits down, a now empty cup in front of her since she didn’t get that last refill that she wanted. None of her friends noticed her not participating in their conversation, her anger toward Anthony increasing along with her sobriety.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” she stands abruptly, nearly knocking over the table holding all of their drinks. 

Anthony gets up with her, Colette not hearing him say, “I’m gonna turn in too, I’ll walk her home,” before she pushes her way out of the bar and into the muggy air outside.  

“I don’t know how you could stand there and let him flirt with you when you made it pretty clear that you weren’t even interested in him,” Anthony whines, not noticing how annoyed she was with him. He was acting like a hero when he shouldn’t have been. “I mean, I can’t believe I had to step in and help you.”

“You didn’t,” she snaps at him, catching him off guard. “I was interested in him. He was nice. He was buying me drinks. That’s why he was flirting with me, because I was flirting with him.”

Colette thought that they were actually going to be friends, like they said they would be. They had been out together since they broke up. They had hung out with their friends in the exact same setting and had the exact same scenario happen but without this ending to the night. There was no reason why he should have stepped all over her like that to ‘save her,’ as he put it. 

“What? Oh, come on, I know how you act when you’re flirting with a guy.”

“Do you?” she asks him, followed by him giving her a confident, ‘yes.’ “Really? So what do I do?”

“You, you,” he starts, knowing that he dug himself into a hole. “You smile at him, you laugh at everything he says, even if it isn’t funny. You run your hands through your hair because you know that fucking collar bone of yours drives me crazy.” He stops, both of them shocked that he just said that. That isn’t how she flirts with anyone, that’s how she acted around him when they were together. “Fuck.”

“Anthony, you cannot keep doing this. We broke up,” she starts, not adding that it was her fault, even though she still felt like it was. “Stop interfering when I’m with another guy.”

“I’m just trying to protect you,” he tries to defend himself.

“From what? From who? What could you possibly be protecting me from? Other guys? Why, Anthony?”

“Fuck, Colette, you think it’s easy watching you flirt with another guy? Just because we broke up, that doesn’t mean I stopped loving you,” he spits out.

Colette stands there, trying to process what he just told her. She could feel her heart racing, the sound of it beating the only thing she could hear. “I didn’t know you still loved me.”

Anthony scoffs, looking down at the ground, shaking his head. “Of course I did. I do. You haven’t noticed that I haven’t looked at another girl since we broke up? I want you, and only you.”

“I didn’t,” she tells him. “Anthony, you’re just saying this because you’re drunk.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow, shaking his head and biting his lip. “Look, I might be. But I know that drunk or not, I cannot sit around and watch you flirt with every guy in existence, while you, the one who was supposed to be my best friend, didn’t even notice that I was miserable while it was happening.”

“What do you want from me?” she snaps. “What am I supposed to do? We tried. We didn’t work. As much as we both wanted to, we did not work.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say. He had to know it was her fault they broke up. It wasn’t mutual, not really.

“I guess, nothing,” he tells her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Nothing at all.” He looks down at the ground and lets out a long sigh. “I’ll see you at the wedding,” is the last thing Anthony says to her before turning on his heels, leaving Colette alone on the sidewalk. 

a ring, not on the ring finger

“Devyn really picked the worst shade of blue she could find for these dresses, didn’t she?” Devyn’s youngest sister, Blake, complains to the rest of the bridesmaids.

Devyn had just stepped out of the room to do her first look with Franco, leaving the girls alone to finish getting ready. 

“She picked sapphire,” Becca said.

“You know,” Colette continues. “Her birthstone?”

“She should have picked a lighter blue. This dark blue totally clashes with my skintone.”

“Blake,” Kendall, her other sister scolds her, “Devyn didn’t give a fuck about your skintone when she picked her favorite color. Either you’re wearing the dress without complaint or I’m telling mom and you’re not in the wedding.”

The sisters keep bickering, Addison, Becca, and Colette slowly moving away from them. 

“I always forget that Blake is still in high school,” Addison says, grabbing her bouquet before checking her makeup one last time.

“I don’t know how you could when she’s constantly tagging Devyn in her posts,” Colette points out.

“Especially the ones she’s not even in.” 

“To increase her visibility,” Colette starts, reciting word for word what Blake had tried to explain to them during Devyn’s bachelorette party. “So she has more people who know her brand when she becomes famous.” 

“Teenagers make no sense,” Devyn appears, a nervous look on her face. “I think we’re almost ready to start.”

“What’s wrong?” Addison asks.

“Colette, we have a problem.” 

“What did I do?”

“Sebby thinks Becca is hot and wants to walk down the aisle with her.”

Colette could feel the color draining from her face at the realization of what this switch would mean for her.

“Is he Franco’s older or younger brother?” Becca asks.

“The older one.”

Becca turns to Colette. “I’m not coming back to the hotel room tonight,” she tells her, practically giddy. “Oh, wait.”

“That means Colette has to walk with-” Addison starts.

“Anthony,” the four girls say at the same time. 

“I’ll be fine,” Colette says, her voice noticeably higher than it should be. She clears her throat, trying to calm herself considering the last time she talked to Anthony was the night he told her he loved her. “I’m fine.”

Devyn’s wedding planner, Jax, comes over to tell them it’s time to line up to enter with the groomsmen. 

“I love you,” Devyn calls after her bridesmaids, all of them calling back to her the same sentiment. 

Colette nearly stops breathing when she sees Anthony in his suit, helping Eddy adjust his tie. The suit fit him perfectly, Colette silently cursing the fact that Franco picked dark gray as the color. She hated to admit that she still thought about that one suit of his that he wore on game day, one that looked identical to the one he had on now. 

“Hi,” she says, standing next to him, trying to not look at him. 

“Hi,” he repeats, staring straight ahead at the back of Eddy’s neck.

The music starts, both of them rigid while everyone else around them is relaxed.

“I thought this would be us one day,” Anthony breaks their silence as the first couple starts to walk arm in arm down the aisle towards where Franco was already standing.

“What?” Colette asks, caught off guard.

Anthony nods, still staring in front of him as they move closer to the entrance of their venue. “I had the proposal all planned out. Had the ring. Had the reservation for dinner. Had a photographer. Everything. And then, the night before I was going to ask you, we broke up. That’s why I couldn’t tell you what was going on. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Colette looks at him, not noticing that they were next to go down the aisle, Anthony taking Colette’s arm in his as Jax tells them to start walking. 

a candle with a long wick, uncut, the lid propped up against the glass

“Are you sure you’re ok to come to this?” Franco asks her.

Colette hesitates for a minute. She hadn’t seen him in months, so she wasn’t sure why she was being invited to his apartment. She hadn’t been to his place since he moved in over a year ago, and honestly, Colette hasn’t intended on going. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve looked like you were going to vomit since we picked you up for this?” Devyn twists her body from the front seat to face her. “We can take you back home if you want.”

Franco pulls up in front of Anthony’s new place, knowing that she couldn’t ask them now to turn around and drive the entire way to and from her place again. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Colette takes in a deep breath as Devyn and Franco get out of the car, leaving her behind in the back seat to stare up at the building they were all supposed to be heading into. There was no need for her to be this nervous. She and Anthony were friends. They talked still, occasionally. Maybe once a week. And the conversations were never more than half an hour long, just to check in, but that’s adult friendships.

Right?

She gets out of the car, jogging to catch up with her friends as they were already to the elevator. 

“You’re going to be ok, you know,” Devyn says, putting her arm around Colette.

“Yeah, we’ll kill him if you want us to.”

Devyn smacks her husband's chest with her free hand, scolding him as Colette laughs. 

She could do this. 

They make their way up to Anthony’s place, getting turned around and somehow ending up two floors above where they were supposed to be, thanks to Franco not being able to read a text message properly and upsetting one of Anthony’s elderly building neighbors. By the time they find his apartment, the place is full, their friends and Anthony’s taking up so much space they could barely move. Franco and Devyn break off from Colette, leaving her alone to scope the place out.

She wanders through his place, people in every single one of his rooms. She stumbles across what she assumes to be a guest room. It was way too neat to be Anthony’s own room, despite him always making her bed when they were together. 

Mat appears behind her, laughing at the sight of the room. “I guess it’s easy to figure out which room is Tito’s, huh?”

Colette lets out a small laugh. “I was just thinking that.” 

“How have you been?” he asks, sitting down on the bed. 

She goes to join him, sighing. “I’m at my ex’s place for the first time since we moved out of the place we got together. Clearly, I’m on top of the world.” 

“It could be worse.”

“Maybe,” she shrugs.

“Ok, what animal are you least afraid of?” Colette looks at him, confused by the non sequitur. “I’m trying to distract you.” 

“Fine, fine,” she rolls her eyes as he nudges her shoulder. “I guess fish?”

“No, I said an animal.”

“And I said a fish.”

“No, a real animal?”

“Are fish fake?”

“You can’t find a fish at a zoo. Have you heard of fish zoos?”

“Yeah, they’re called aquariums, you fucking walnut,” Colette tells him, laughing so hard she could feel pain in her sides.

“Oh. Oh, yeah,” Mat sits there for a second, looking down at his hands with a smirk on his face while Colette continues to laugh. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh that hard since you broke up with him.”

“This is the first time we’ve seen each other since before he and I broke up,” Colette points out once she catches her breath.

Mat sighs. “I don’t think he’s laughed as hard as you just did since you two broke up.” 

“Yeah, sure,” she says, not believing him. 

“Colette, you make him want to live as long as possible so he can have as much time sharing the planet with you as he can. He has all of your favorite things in his Notes App on his phone that he will not delete. That one picture I took of you guys way back when we all met is still one of his lock screens, again that he won’t delete. I mean, look around his whole place. You are in every corner.”

Colette shakes her head. “Come on.”

“Look at that bookcase,” Mat says, bringing her over to the other side of the room. A picture of Devyn and Franco’s wedding party is framed on one of the shelves, one where he is looking at her so lovingly that someone in passing would assume they were the ones getting married while she was looking at the camera if not for what they were wearing. Her favorite candle scents were still unlit, sitting on the shelf next to all the books she loved by Leigh Bardugo and Gillian Flynn, the same ones from when they first moved in together, their spines now noticeably more worn, the copies loved by someone who had to have read them multiple times. She picked up the copy of Ninth House, seeing his writing in it and comments saying things like ‘remember when you said this to me?’ or ‘this has to be your favorite scene because’ left unfinished. 

“He was writing these to me,” she realizes, not noticing Mat leaving the room.

“Of course I was,” Anthony says, her turning around so fast she loses her grasp on the book in her hands to send it falling to the floor. “I can’t really read these books anymore without thinking of you.”

“Why do you still have them all then?”

Anthony looks at the book on the floor. “How could I get rid of them?”

The two of them stand there in silence for what feels like forever. She wasn’t used to having Anthony in front of her and barely being able to find the words to say to him. She hated herself for losing him, but how could she have kept him? Colette takes in a deep breath. “We made a mistake breaking up, didn’t we?”

Anthony nods, shrugging. “Yeah, probably.” 

“I don’t think we could ever go back, either.” Anthony sighs, opening his mouth to say something when Colette cuts him off. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“I think I’m still in love with you, but we can’t be together. We don’t trust each other,” Colette hears herself say, shocked at the words that come out of her.

Anthony closes the distance between them, taking her in his arms and hugging her so fiercely she could barely breathe. “I still love you, too.” 

The two of them pull apart, both of them crying. They knew what this was for them.

“God, this sucks,” Anthony laments.

 “It’s kind of amazing, though, isn’t it?”

“What?” Anthony asks, shock in his voice.

“How lucky we are that we got to love each other so much, that a simple goodbye could feel as devastating as this.”

two sets of eyes, one opened set, one closed set

“Don’t panic,” Addison says, Eddy rolling his eyes behind her.

“Yeah, because only good things come from people saying that,” Colette says, handing her friends the drinks she bought them. Becca was somewhere with Devyn and Franco, the six of them out together for one of their increasingly rare nights when they could all be together without having to worry about anything outside the building they were in. 

“She thinks she saw some of Anthony’s teammates,” Eddy explains, guiding them back to the rest of their friends. 

Colette rolls her eyes, looking back to her friend who had already downed more than half her drink. She knew that Addison had a drunken habit of mistaking strangers for people she actually knew, or thought she knew. Just because she thought she saw some of his teammates, that didn’t actually mean anything. “I think we can save the panic for when we know we see him, instead.” 

“You’re already panicking about seeing him again?” Becca asks, overhearing only the last part of the conversation as they arrive back at the table. 

“We are talking about different people,” Colette says. “I was just with Carter last night.”

“That’s, what, almost every night that’s he’s not away for the last five months that you’ve spent the night together, isn’t it?” Devyn asks, stirring her drink with her straw.

“Yeah,” Colette sighs.

“Oh, no,” Franco groans.

“You guys seem really in to each other.” Becca points out.

“I mean, physically, it’s great. But, he just,” Colette starts, trying to figure out what to say. She knew exactly what bothered her; it was why she broke up with Anthony in the first place. “He doesn’t really know me.” 

“Holy shit,” Eddy says, nearly choking on his drink. The group follows his gaze to see that Addison was right; Anthony’s teammates were there at the bar, but so was Anthony. 

Not only was he there, but he had his arm around a girl, guiding her through the place to see if they could find an open table, the only one close to them being the one right next to them. 

“You make it worse if you freak out,” Devyn scolds him.

“Hi,” Anthony says when he sees her, standing right next to their table. 

“Hey, bud,” Eddy greets him, Franco punching him in the arm for the over enthusiasm. 

“We’re going to go get more drinks,” Becca says, all of Colette’s friends grabbing their clearly new drinks in front of them and excusing themselves from the table. 

Anthony awkwardly chuckles as they all leave, just him and Colette alone for the first time in what felt like forever. “So they haven’t changed.”

Colette felt a pit in her stomach. “You didn’t have to stop talking to them because we don’t talk that much. I mean, you were in Devyn and Franco’s wedding.”

Anthony nods, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down on the table in front of her. He was still standing awkwardly, Colette knowing that he wouldn’t ask to sit down with her. “Talking to them made me think about talking to you.”

The two of them sit in an awkward silence for a moment. 

“So who was-”

“I saw you-” they start to say at the same time, both of them letting out a laugh in hopes it would calm them down.

“You first,” Colette tells him.

“I saw you started seeing someone,” he brings up, leaning against the table as he looks down at his drink, a sad smile on his face.

Colette cringes, nodding. She forgot she still had him on her private story. “Yeah, but it won’t last much longer.”

“Oh.”

“I saw you were here with someone?” she asks, gesturing to the girl who was with his teammates.

Anthony looks over, waving at his friends and the girl. “That’s Mat’s little sister. She’s just here to visit.”

“So are you seeing anyone?”

Anthony shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” Colette hears herself say, gesturing to him to sit down next to her.

He waves her off, taking the seat previously occupied by Franco across from her. “It’s fine. I’ll find someone else eventually.”

“No, I mean,” Colette starts, taking in a deep breath and trying to figure out what to say after all these years of not saying what she wanted to. What she should have said. They both knew they had already found each other and they let it go too soon. “I’m sorry for ending things. I’m sorry for being the reason everything fell apart. I’m sorry I didn’t show you how much I love you the way you showed me.”

Anthony looks up from his drink, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You knew everything about me. You have my favorite books, you always knew exactly what I wanted to get when we went out to dinner before I had the chance to tell you, you know my mood based on the smallest things I do. You showed me you love me with everything. I didn’t do that for you.” 

Anthony gives her a sad smile. “You always showed me you loved me.”

“Not the way you did. I feel like I knew nothing about you the way you knew me.”

Anthony shakes his head. “You know me better than I know myself.” Colette starts to shake her head, about to dispute him when he cuts her off. “If I had a bad game, you always had a cup of tea ready for me when I got home with a note telling me how you knew I’d be fine next game. You never tried to minimize how I felt after a game and listened to everything I told you. If I had to get up early for practice or to leave for a road trip, you had my coffee ready for me before I was even awake sitting on the nightstand waiting for me, even if you hadn’t slept great the night before. I’d open my bag and find the notes you wrote for me hidden in my suit pockets so I’d have them with me in the locker room. You still text me after games to tell me you’re proud of me. You think you didn’t show me you loved me? I’ve never felt more loved by anyone before meeting you.”

“I didn’t think those things meant anything.”

“They meant everything.”

I love you

Colette walks into the studio, paper in hand. She had booked yet another appointment with her favorite artist, Eleni, months ago, going back and forth as to what she wanted. Her left arm was covered in a series of small tattoos as it was, enough space right at the start of her forearm for one last small tattoo. 

“Hey, Let,” Eleni greets her.

“Hi, Len,” she smiles back, handing her the piece of paper.

“You want the words, ‘I love you?’” Eleni asks, eyebrow cocked. Colette swallows, knowing that this was the last thing she wanted on her arm. “Whose writing is this? I know it’s not yours.”

“Anthony’s,” Colette admits after what felt like too long of a silence for it to be anyone else's. 

“Are you sure you want this?” 

Colette forces out a laugh. “Every tattoo on my arm relates to him in some way, you know that. You put them all there. The book with the sun, the solo cup, the wheel of fortune. Might as well finish it off with how we feel about each other.” 

Eleni takes in a deep breath, getting Colette ready for her tattoo. “I don’t get why you two aren’t together.”

Colette sighs. “I fucked up. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fix it. Not in a way that matters, anyway.” Eleni gives her a sad look, Colette shaking her head and waving it off. “Besides, just because you think you’re ‘meant to be’ with someone, doesn’t mean you’ll actually ‘be.’” 

[ckret2]

What your thoughts on other bill ships? Like Kryptos/Bill or Stanley/Bill. I love your Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone fic on ao3 and this is my first time using Tubmlr, so I’m not sure how it works here, so sorry if I sent this wrong place 💔

u found the right place

I don't ship him with any of the Henchmaniacs (except for saying an eye-bat is his ex because it's the funniest possible option), but I think he's hooked up with half of them. I'd say "casually hooked up" but I don't think there's anything casual about it, the Henchmaniacs are fueled by petty drama and rancid vibes.

I acknowledge Kryptos is easy for ships because he looks like he could conceivably be the same species as Bill and we know so little about him you could give him almost any personality, but i'm not interested in it myself. Especially since it feels like a lot of what I've seen with Kryptos/Bill goes for "Kryptos is the one nice guy in the gang and Bill is tsundere for him" and that doesn't do anything for me.

I occasionally contemplate "wouldn't it be fucked up if Bill hooked up with Stan so he could pretend he's with Ford and Stan knew but still went with it for some reason (idk why, maybe Stan's super lonely, maybe Bill's currently wearing a smoking hot human body, the point is we want DRAMA so any excuse will work)" but outside that, nah. I think Stan and Bill would be VERY fun partners in crime and they're GREAT to bounce off each other, but I prefer them platonically, I don't feel a romantic or sexual spark between them.

You wanna know what Bill ships I'm fascinated with?

Bill/Trembley. it's GOTTA be one sided though, Bill's gotta be head over heels for this weirdo like a teenage girl for her first celebrity crush while Trembley never even notices

Bill/the howling void he totally lied about not dating in TBOB. Here I am 15,000 words deep into writing their entire relationship start to finish... I was literally already writing about Bill dating a black hole, who happens to howl, prior to TBOB; so the book just took my OC and made her canon??? yeah sure fine I'll take it, damn.

Bill-possessing-Silas/the 100-something wives he stole from his cultists according to thisisnotawebsitedotcom. weeks after that reveal this is still the funniest & most fascinating thing to me simply because Bill had ABSOLUTELY NO REASON to do that, truly enthralled by his potential motives, I cannot believe this triangle is married

Bill/the shaman. I just think something was going on there. I can feel it. The shaman taught him a bit of magic, how often do you think that happens to Mr. Trillion-Year-Old All-Seeing Eye? Probably not much!

[kiwipineappleparasol]

A Collection of my Mario Fan Characters (Info Below) 🍄

Zizzle (she/they) - An easygoing wanderer, who never sticks to one place for long. Secretly a Magickoopa dropout from Bowser's army, although she regrets her past. Plus, they were never good at magic.

Lumini (they/them) - A previous caretaker for young stars in Starborn Valley, they have delusions of grandeur and think that they ought to ascend to Star Haven themselves. Still, they act for the greater good.

Duplio (she/her) - A travelling magician (and con artist) who's name is known by none, but who's face is known by plenty. She's a charming trickster, who's great at weaseling in and out of situations.

Vinny (they/them) - Previously a news anchor, now a ground reporter, they always sensationalize the news regardless. Talks more akin to a salesperson than your average journalist. Their breath is rancid.

Nebble (she/her) - Resident of a place I'll call Rock Candy Caverns, she hates the mining gig destroying her home. Reclusive and slightly eccentric, but ultimately good natured. Her nose glows in the dark!

Robin (she/her) - A bandit who only takes from the well off, and gives it to those in need. She's cocky and brash; quick to get herself in trouble, but clever enough to find a way out of it. ...Probably.

Pail - (she/her) - Clumsy, sweet as sugar, and exceedingly gullible -- she takes people at their word, even when she really shouldn’t. She hopes to become an ice cream salesperson someday, ironically.

Hammie (she/her) - A bubbly, outgoing rollerblader! She's got great balance, and an uplifting attitude. She participates in acrobatics, racing, and even inline hockey -- and always tries to be a good sport!

Johnson (he/him) - Named after the unseen X-Naut in the beginning of TTYD. An elite scientist that only got promoted because he refused to divulge his potion recipes. Has little respect for authority. Rockey (he/him) - A pokey made of rocks. Dude-bro who wants to be best buds with everyone, and cannot recognize when he’s annoying people. Negative words are all water off a duck’s back with this guy.

(The two Shy Guys -- I haven't decided on their names yet, but the first one is an extremely introverted toy maker, who repairs anything brought to their shop, but refuses to show their “face” to anyone. The second is based off Mario Strikers, but instead he plays paintball. He loves bright colors and causing havoc wherever he goes. He’s pretty competitive.)

And that’s about it!