#or that regular social clubs don’t really work for me

[kominfyrirkattarnef]

Insane how my mother decided with absolutely no medical assistance that I was autistic but. Actually knows zero about what autism is beyond ‘socially awkward and embarrassing at social functions’

[risuola]

CALL IT DOUBLE TROUBLE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU, who have a habit of sharing everything

It’s been a while since you last saw your college ex-boyfriend Gojo and a Halloween party led to your reconnection. It was cool to see him again, although your break-up was messy. What turned out to be a plot twist, was that he now has a handsome best friend and together, they are deadly.

cw: smut, exes to lovers, strangers to lovers, threesome, double penetration, praise, cum play, oral (f & m receiving), su*cide is mentioned (no description, just brief mention), reader discretion is advised — 6k words

masterlist

a/n: with that post I'm concluding the kinktober - sorry about the delay! work overwhelmed me, it sucked the life out of me, but I'll be getting back to writing now, so stay tuned! also, we hit 1300 followers, so I just want to say thank you so much for being here and reading the shit I post!

You were never that big on parties – you found them mostly annoying with the masses pushing and pulling all around you, drunk assholes that never seem to understand how consent works and even more drunk girls, that throw themselves at anyone slightly attractive. At least that’s how you remember every party you were on during your college years. You experienced firsthand how much effort men can put into chasing a hem of a mini skirt and you also saw in real life, how women were flexing their assets just to get into the pants they want. Unfortunately, usually pants that were in the biggest demand, were coincidentally belonging to your boyfriend. Uh, yeah, maybe that’s why you don’t really like parties.

Dating Satoru Gojo was a blessing, in some parts – he was just lovely to you. He was caring, to some extent, he was sweet-talking you into everything he wanted, and his arrogance always seemed to fly right over your head, but you loved him for longer than he deserved. You trusted him to not sleep with those eagerly spreading girls and he never did. At least that’s what you like to believe. Flirting with them – that was a different story. Satoru was an attention whore, really. He was basking in the gazes glued to him, the salivating mouths were feeding his already enormous ego and he seemed to have the time of his life pulling the strings of those poor, naïve girls that every time believed him when he told them they are just so pretty. His crystalline blue eyes were capable of turning lesbians into straight and straights into gay. The number of suggestive pictures he posed for flooded your social media each time after the parties you attended with him, and not one of those pictures he’s ever taken with you. And then, after leaving the frat houses and clubs, he would tell you how lucky you are to have him, how all of those silly girls were offering him their pussies oh so eagerly. He’d tell you how they envied you. All while he’d fuck you. You spent two years with him, then came the break-up and just as everything that involved Satoru was messy – so was your parting.

You really had no pleasure in partying, after freeing yourself from the toxicity of Gojo, you finally found peace. You flew through college with ease and after it ended, you found yourself quite a nice job – you were okay without attending any kinds of alcohol and loud music related people gatherings. That’s until Shoko called you earlier that month, practically begging you to pay her a visit on Halloween. She was in the city, having her family house all to her disposal due to her family being on a trip somewhere warm. It was a party where all of your college, mutual friends were going to be, a little reconnection if you will and she insisted you show up as well. It really sounded lovely to see where all of your friends landed in lives. With some you still had a regular contact, but some just went their ways and you rarely crossed paths with them, so you agreed to be there. That was a perfect opportunity to catch up and you were excited.

For some unknown reason, not even once you considered Gojo to be there as well. You just kind of pushed the memory of him to the back of your head, you removed him from the picture of your mutual circle of friends and completely you forgot that he’ll most likely be there as well. You realized it when Shoko asked you about him.

“Have you seen Gojo already?”, her tone was quite cautious when she mentioned the name to you, and with the way you looked at her from above your dying cigarette, she spoke again, “You know he’s gonna be there as well, don’t you?”

“Guess I blacked out that possibility,” you mumbled, shrugging softly to shake off the uneasiness of the thought and killing the cig in the sink before throwing it away. “No, I haven’t seen him and I hope it will stay that way.”

“Oh, you’re still wounded after him?”

“No, Sho, I’m not wounded,” you grabbed yourself a red cup from the array on one of the tables in the kitchen. You had no idea what concoction of liquid courage was inside every each of them, but you really couldn’t care less. If that was one of your first parties in years, you were not going to be picky and you trusted Shoko enough to not have death in those cups. “I’m really not. Thing is… I don’t know, it’s been so many years, I’m not really sure what to even tell him. We broke up in a mess that wasn’t addressed ever since, so you know.”

“Yeah, right, I remember the insanity of that action. Gojo was haunting my dreams for two weeks after the suicidal stunt he pulled off.” Ieiri flinched at the memory but laughed right after realizing how stupid all of that was. “He was a drama queen, we have to give him that.”

“See?”

“Well, you’ll most likely see him anyway, so just a hi will be good.”

“Noted.”

She left you to greet someone, and you shook your head, hoping to get rid of the flashbacks, but they were inevitable, you guessed it. Long time after ending things with Gojo you couldn’t find peace after what happened. You think you will forever remember the argument that unraveled after you told him you’re breaking up with him. There was so much screaming, your head pounded with pain for two days straight after that. Nothing more than accusing of the most bizarre shits and poison was spilling from his mouth when, for the first time, Satoru Gojo was informed that someone else is leaving him. Usually, it was him who ended things up, it was him who was cutting the strings and he was too immature back then to come to terms that other people are also entitled to just go away. You remember he went completely feral, almost psychotic as he was laughing at some point, throwing ironic insults at you as if it was gonna make you stay. He had to prove a point that it’s not you who want to leave him. It’s him who want to break up and you just accidentally happened telling him that before he managed to do so. After that, he threatened you that he will kill himself and he made it everybody’s problem – you had to know it, Shoko had to know it and every single one of your friends had to know it as well. You heard from Ieiri that after about three weeks he got back to being his usual arrogant playboy, as if he didn’t just cause drama of the century. He moved on. Traumatized everyone around him, but moved on nonetheless. Now you found the situation kind of funny. You were just kids and you were not meant to be together. That’s just how life works and you wondered sometimes if Satoru learned a little more life after that or did he stay the same.

Sighing again, you took the cup and slipped in between people in the living room, stepping outside to breathe some fresh air on the terrace, thankful that no one was there. Or so you thought and no wonder you almost jumped out of your own skin when you heard a voice right next to you.

“Fire?” He asked, after a moment of watching you search for the lighter in the pockets of your makeshift schoolgirl uniform. The unlit cigarette in your mouth betraying what you were looking for.

His tone was soft, saccharine sweet and calm at the same time and as you looked up at him, it somewhat matched the picture that met your eyes. The man was tall and broad, dressed all in black with dress pants and a hoodie. His sleeves half up, exposing the veiny forearms as he was keeping his lighter visible, ready to give you a hand.

“Yes, please,” you replied finally, leaning into the fire he opened and with relief you take the first breath in. You were not a smoker in your day-to-day life. One pack of cigarettes lasted you a year, but it was Shoko’s influence that today made you poison your lungs more than usual. “Thanks.”

“I’m Suguru. Geto Suguru,” he introduced himself, offering you his palm and you gave it a short squeeze, telling him your own name. You couldn’t find his face in your memories, and you’d like to think that such handsome features would tattoo themselves into your brain in one way or another. He had to come with someone else, you figured. Probably a boyfriend or a husband even. You couldn’t care less about asking. “Enjoying the party?”

“I’m not big on parties, really,” you shrugged, keeping your gaze away from him because hell, he made it so easy to stare with his long luscious, black hair resting over his shoulders and back, half tied up in a little bun just to get them out of his face. You couldn’t tell what his costume was, he had some kind of alternative style going on, slightly rocker vibes with his pierced ears and silver chains hanging from his neck, but it might have as well be his usual style – he looked good in it. He most certainly looked like a big, red flag but hell was the flag attractive.

“I see. Well, I’m not either,” he confessed, huffing out a greyish cloud of smoke out of his lungs and by the smell of it, you could tell it wasn’t nicotine.

“What you’re smoking?”

“Weed, why? Wanna try it?” It was an offer that you should politely say no to, but it was your first and probably last party in a while, so you asked yourself why not and took the joint from his fingers.

“So, you’re here with someone?” you questioned, just to keep the conversation going once you gave him the smoke back. You could feel the unfamiliar but somehow pleasant burn in your lungs after the drag you took and slowly you blew the fume out. Suguru found the view attractive. Sharing a joint with you felt a little more intimate than it should have, the way your lips wrapped around the brownish paper made him wonder how would they look wrapped around something else. Thoughts like this shouldn’t bloom in his head right after he’s met you, not when he’s an adult man, not a stupid kid anymore, but some things couldn’t be stopped.

“Yeah,” he inhaled once more, deeply enough to kill the joint and throw it away. You watched for a moment how he kept the smoke in his lungs, letting it go after a moment. The cloud escaping through his mouth and nose in a soft stream. Fuck, what a gorgeous man. Whoever was the girl that got him had to be lucky. “You know him, he told me about you.”

Oh, never mind.

“He? Ah, fuck, don’t tell me you came here with that idiot,” you reached down for your cup that few moments prior you put on the ground while searching for a lighter.

“Ow, you’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart.”

And there he was. You wondered where that tower of an asshole hid.

Once you look back at Geto, there was also Satoru. He was standing next to his friend slash partner, with his forearm propped over Suguru’s shoulder as he looked at you from above the black glasses, with the very familiar grin painted on his face. Gojo changed a lot since you last saw him. He was now buffier, seemed even taller than you remembered, and his facial features matured – his jaw became more square, eyes a little more lidded and even the smirk on his lips seemed less playboy-ish and more menacingly manly. He lost his princess looks and became a man. You wondered if his character changed as well, because you could still see him using his looks to take what he wanted.

“Oh, do I?” You questioned, eyeing him up and down. His clothes were almost exactly the same as Geto’s – only difference being the light color and the fact his sweatshirt had no hood. What he was wearing completely contrasted to what his friend had on and it made sense if they were here together. Black and white, like yin and yang. You had no idea if they were here as friends or lovers, but either way, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“You sure do,” Satoru shook his head, his smile now more friendly as he approached you, entrapping you in a hug that surely took you by surprise. “It’s good to see you, beautiful.”

“You too,” you guessed, not completely convinced about what you just said but you let it be.

“I’m sorry. I have to say it before you run away from me. I’m really sorry, I was a dick when we were dating,” Gojo’s voice reached your ears directly, but you had a hard time believing what you were hearing. He was never a type to apologize for anything. Please, sorry and thank you is a set of words that you were certain he never used and yet there he was, saying just that. He really evolved. Or he wanted something.

“Yeah, you were. Hope you’re not anymore,” you chuckled softly, brushing your hand over his side.

“I try not to be,” he confessed quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck before letting go of you. He shouldn’t have kiss you like that, but the feeling of longing was way stronger than him. Even if for a moment, he had to just have a little taste of you.

Ever since you broke up, Gojo had no idea how much he missed having you in his arms. Up until that night he was okay with some random girls coming into and getting out of his bed with no strings attached. He seemed to be unable to form a lasting relationship after you, you were his first and last girlfriend that he committed to for so long, no matter how poorly. Even if he was nothing but an asshole to you, he often wished to marry you back in the college. Even if he couldn’t possibly show you how much he cared, because his childish behaviors were standing in the way of him reaching your heart properly, he really thought you will be the one and only in his life and even if he seemed to move on so quickly after you broke up with him, it was only for show. A cover up for the thunderstorm that was raging inside his chest, a band aid over the bleeding wound. No other girl was able to even half-fill the emptiness you left in his heart.

You were special to him and it thrilled him to the core when for the first time he heard from Shoko that you agreed to be there, because if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t show up as well. His time for partying finished along with his fourth year of college, when he realized there was less and less fun in drinking alcohol and forcing himself into flirting. When it came to you, he had never needed to force himself to do anything. He was just an immature kid when you dated, but he loved the time you gave him.

And now, you were still fitting perfectly into his body. As if he was made from memory foam that still remembered your shape. Now, you were still just as beautiful and breathtaking as he remembered you. In your little, schoolgirl mini skirt, thigh-high socks and a white button up shirt with a loosened tie you looked way sexier than you had a reason to. It’s been quite some time since he was that aroused from just looking at someone and you made him harder than he thought is possible. Fuck, what you were doing to him?

“So, what do you do now? Still living from party to party and from girl to girl?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink. It was strong and it really was better for you to take it in slowly, but there was a certain burn of nervousness tied to meeting your ex that you needed to drown.

“No, it’s in the past,” Satoru replied, inviting you inside, where all three of you found a nice place to sit on one of the couches. You landed between the two men. “I took the lead of my father’s company, Suguru’s my partner in crime. We’re doing good, I don’t party anymore. Honestly, if Shoko didn’t give me a sign that you will be there, I wouldn’t probably step by.”

“Oh, so you came to haunt me,” you joked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Yeah, kind of. Couldn’t reach you before and wanted to sort this whole mess out. I’m usually cool with having enemies, but you’re not someone I want to have as enemy.”

You gave his words a soft roll of your eyes. Maybe few years back you’d let yourself be sugarcoated into believing him, but not now. Maybe, just maybe, he matured a little, but some things will never change. Gojo was a flirt, is a flirt and probably will always be a flirt. But hell, was he cute. You cursed his innate ability to attract you from a mile.

“Sure, whatever,” you shrugged and the conversation after that was flowing nicely. You got to know Suguru, you learned who he is and why did he stick with Satoru. It was a friendship they developed that kept them together and maybe it was thanks to Geto that your ex wasn’t so much of an asshole anymore. Maybe it’s the brunette’s calm personality that somewhat grounded the playboy. Or maybe it was all an illusion. Yea, it had to be an illusion. There was no way that these two six-foot-three giants were not causing some troubles.

Yeah, they were a trouble. Double trouble, to be exact, and you got to learn that when the doors of one of many bedrooms on the floor closed behind you. You don’t even know how and why you agreed to go with them anywhere in the first place. You had no idea how on earth did Satoru sweet-talked you into fucking him again. For the old time’s sake, my ass. And more important, how did he sweet-talked you into fucking not only him, but also Suguru? At the same time?! You were not built for this, that’s for sure.

“Let’s have fun like we always did, yeah?” Gojo had this typical, shit-eating grin stretched on his face, when he was pulling you by the wrist onto the bed. Geto took his time and lit up another joint, opting to just stand and watch for now. He had a smirk on, his eyes were fixed on you, and you could tell that they weren’t new to sharing a woman. It really was obvious they did that before.

You had no time to think if that surprises you at all. Satoru was a stranger to patience. He never enjoyed waiting and always went straight for what he wanted, and this time was no exception.

“God, you look so fucking hot as a schoolgirl,” he muttered, burying his face into your neck, nibbing and kissing wet marks onto your skin whilst his fingers were already dealing with buttons of your white shirt. Your body acted on its own accord, responding to the red stains of his lips and the cold touch of his fingers with excitement that you felt for the last time when you were in college. It bothered you that you still were so receptive to the way he feels on you, you thought that you’re way over the Gojo effect but seems like you were gravelly wrong. “What a naughty one,” Satoru chuckled, his voice bordered a moan when he finally opened your shirt and your shapely tits, hugged beautifully by a lace bra entered his field of view. “Fuck, I missed those.”

“You’re talking too much,” you grabbed him by the hair, tugging the snow-white strands at the base of his neck and pushing his face down your neck and onto your chest, hoping it will shut him up. That was the issue with your ex. He really was a phenomenal lay but he was just talking so damn much. That was what ultimately pushed you over the edge when you were together back in the day. You just couldn’t stand listening about other women while he was with you.

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, sucking a red spot onto one of your tits, earning himself another tug on the hair.

“Don’t mark me, idiot,” you warned him, but it was already too late and both of you knew it.

“My, my… so nervous. Let me help you relax,” Gojo smiled wide and made you lay flat on the bed. It took him no time to find his place between your thighs and before you even got a chance to react, he was already pulling your panties off of you. For a split second, your mind got distracted by the subtle scent of weed that’s filling the air. The smell that reminded you that it’s not only you and your ex in the room, but also another person.

“Don’t worry about me,” Geto smiled. Something mischievous lingered over his lips as he did before he took another drag. The joint between his fingers slowly but surely becoming smaller as he was saturating his lungs with the fumes, only to breathe them out after a moment.

“Are you not going to join?” You asked, your voice slightly breaking into a whine once Satoru flicked his tongue over your clit, reminding you how well he spoke the language of your body. He was fluent in your pleasure, you were never sure if it came to him with experience or was he just naturally gifted, but either way, he had a skill and was proud of it. He began eating you out like he was starving for the past decade. His tongue worked the puffy nub of nerves all the way around, he sucked and licked, slurped and kissed your cunt, causing your body to jolt in pleasure. He was purring while between your legs, his long fingers already working their way into your hole. The stretch was delicious, the symphony of his mouth and hands was slowly driving you insane.

“You’re so sweet,” Satoru mumbled, taking the pleasure away to smear some wet kisses along your inner thighs. “She’s so incredibly sweet, Suguru, you have to taste her,” he added, accentuating the thought with a bite onto the fat of your thigh. His friend just chuckled, making his way towards you and he handed you his half smoked joint.

“I’d love to,” Geto replaced your ex between your thighs. He kept looking into your eyes when he opened his mouth, presenting you with his pierced tongue. Little, metallic ball in the middle of the muscle glistened in the artificial lighting and it made you moan out loud, when he swiped it along your slit, gathering your juices. There was something absolutely intimidating about his calm demeanor, something nearly diabolic but it was exactly what attracted you to him. He was complete opposite to Satoru. He wasn’t bright and loud; his eyes weren’t big and vibrant. He looked mysterious, he kept himself quieter, his eyes kept the focus that Gojo couldn’t achieve. They really were made for each other.

“Oh god—,” your eyes nearly rolled back as he began working on your swollen clit ruthlessly. You had no idea if it was because of the piercing or was it just his skill, but it felt even better then when the snow-white was between your thighs. Or maybe it was just you being so turned on by him.

“You like it?”, your ex asked, grinning as he was taking the time to undress himself. “Knew you’re gonna enjoy it.”

You spared him the comment, losing the track of thoughts in the way Suguru was making you feel. You could have sworn you never felt something like this, he was just incredible with the way his tongue was engraving his own name into your clit. Cold metal of his piercing doubled down the pleasure you were receiving, contrasting with the heat of his muscle.

Your thighs began to tremble, your toes curled in, and you felt yourself quickly falling down the hole of ultimate lust. Euphoria was rushing through your veins; your heart was drumming in your chest as the smoke was leaving your lungs after the drag you took from the joint in your hand. Suguru was pushing you over the edge with such ease it felt illegal. You could feel him grinning proudly from his spot between your legs, you could feel his fingers gripping your hips with bruising strength, keeping them in place while he was slurping your soul straight from your weeping pussy.

Your orgasm exploded and you called out Suguru’s name. He didn’t stop. He kept drinking, thirsty for more of you as your juices coated his tongue and the bottom of his handsome face.

“You really do taste fucking sweet,” he commented, getting up and crawling above you. His lips were on yours the moment he reached your face. He tasted the smoke and you tasted yourself in that kiss. It didn’t last long, but the intensity of it made you almost dizzy. “Let’s get you out of this uniform.”

 It took just few moments until you were completely bare underneath the heavy gaze of two men around you. Satoru was just in his underwear, the tent in them painfully apparent and you knew him well enough that he won’t be able to wait much longer, but what bothered you was the fact that Suguru was still completely clothed. He looked sexy in his dark outfit, but he can look sexy in it later.

“Aren’t you a tease—” you muttered, once he got up from the bed to drown the rest of the joint in what little of alcohol was left in one of your cups on the bedside table. “Take this off.” You demanded, coming up to your knees and pushing his hoodie up.

“How demanding,” he laughed but complied and you managed to just blink twice before his god-like figure presented itself to you. A muscular, large body beautifully decorated with a dragon tattoo that wrapped its tail around his right bicep and spread on his back. You couldn’t decide what to focus on – his impressive musculature, the ink on his skin or the fact that even though he still had his pants on, you could already feel yourself salivating.

Satoru was right behind you, swiping the angry tip of his cock up and down your folds, gathering your slick and making you shiver from the touch. He then pushed his girth into you, stretching you impossibly and pulling a quiet, whiny fuck straight out of your throat. It’s been a while since you’ve been having sex with anyone, not to say anyone with that size, but you couldn’t deny that the burn was delicious. It set all your senses on fire, the heatwave washed over you and once Gojo went with the first thrust, it reminded you how much you missed the physical act of intimacy with him.

“Can’t focus, pretty girl?”, Suguru brought your attention back to himself. His long fingers gently gathered all of your hair into a messy ponytail, and you got the hint immediately. As on cue, you unbuckled his pants, pushing them down almost too eagerly. “Good girl.”

The praise in his tone got you weak, you were already becoming a mess from how perfectly Satoru was fucking you right now, pounding his hips against yours in the mind-numbing manner. His cock hitting all of the sweet spots inside of you with each long stroke and that was enough to make you almost incapable of thinking straight, but your hands and mouth acted on its own.

Geto watched how your lips wrapped around his dick. The sight of you taking him into your mouth with such hunger was something he wanted to engrave onto his brain and if the picture was amazing, then there was no word to describe the feeling itself. Your soft, plush lips felt divine brushing along his sensitive shaft, your tongue dancing around his length made him almost lose his composure. You were a sight. And you made him feel so good, he could feel himself twitching in the hot, wet embrace of your mouth. You were sucking him as if your life was depending on it, as if it was your last supper and you wanted to devour it and every time his plump tip hit the back of your throat, he could feel you taking control over him.

“Isn’t she amazing?”, Gojo mumbled from behind you. His grip remained iron on your hips, the bruising force being the only thing that was grounding you now. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your juices were running down your thighs and the wet sounds of skin slapping against each other were filling the room.

“Oh, she is,” Geto confirmed, applying some force onto your head. The tug on your hair was enough to send you overboard and the vibration of your throat once you moaned were enough for him as well. You couldn’t tell who came first, and frankly, you couldn’t care less about it, as long as it felt so damn good.

“I, fuck— I told you,” Satoru panted out. His hips moved slower as he was sloppily riding the high out. You licked the cock in front of you clean, satisfied with the first course but hungry for more.

You shouldn’t allow all of this to happen. There was not a single argument that could justify everything that was happening right now – you shouldn’t sneak out to god-knows-whose room in your friend’s house and you absolutely shouldn’t sneak out there with not only your ex-boyfriend but also his friend. You couldn’t even remember how you agreed to that. Why have you agreed to that? You had no idea. Was it to talk?

You wouldn’t exactly call the way your body was being stuffed full by two cocks at the same time talking. You were squeezing Suguru’s shoulders as he was thrusting his hips up against yours. His body below you, laying flat on the bed made for a canvas for your nails to leave marks, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He was kissing you with a mixture of passion and laziness, a smirk stayed prominent on his lips as he was swallowing your moans. The subtle taste of weed in his mouth got you wanting more of him. He felt perfect in every way, his movements were setting your nervous system on fire as the heat was spreading over your entire body, radiating from your core. You could feel Satoru’s fingers teasing your clit, you could feel his lips smearing wet trails along your spine. The way his hips were moving seemed to be perfectly in sync with the brunette.

You were so full of them, you never felt something like this before. The initial pain you felt when Gojo pushed his girth into your asshole was long gone now as he was pounding into you in complete unison with how Geto was moving. The sensation of being so incredibly full turned your brain into a heated mush, your body was trembling between them, electrocuted time after time with a sharp waves of white pleasure. Your vision was blurry, the stars covered most of it. You could no longer tell whose hands were where and your thighs were wet and sticky from all the seed that was being pumped into you, gushing out with every piston of their hips.

“You’re so perfect for us,” someone told you. A low, rasped out voice resounded right next to your ear, followed by a harsh bite onto your shoulder and the sudden wave of new pain that radiated from it pushed you over the edge. You were speeding, falling with no parachute. You couldn’t breathe for a moment as the climax was overtaking you. “Such a good girl, you’re making so much mess.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered, gasping for air as their thrusts picked a pace. You couldn’t form any coherent sentence as they were fucking the soul out of your body. Right after you came, they both came as well. Their cum coated your insides and leaked onto your thighs, dripping down as they pumped into you some more.

Gojo was first to pull out, spreading your cheeks and admiring how his white overflown your hole. The menacing grin spread across his face as he gripped your hips and lifted you off Suguru’s cock. The long-haired man sat up as you, led by your ex’s hands turned to straddle Geto’s lap. Your back was facing his chest as he pulled you back onto his shaft. All of his length sank right into your ass, pulling a moan right from your chest.

“Look at you, so gorgeous,” Satoru was in front of you, admiring for a moment your bouncing figure before his long fingers slipped into your cunt, curling in a way that got him pressing onto your oversensitive sweet spots. “Open your mouth for me.”

You barely registered his words, but your jaw dropped nonetheless. His cum coated digits slid right through your lips and you sucked on them, twirling your tongue around and tasting the mixture of your juices and their seeds. Suguru’s hands were kneading your breasts as his friend was playing with the mess between your thighs.

There was something deeply erotic in a way the white-haired man kept your gaze up. How he looked right into your eyes while you were being fucked by his best friend, how he enjoyed the way you gave them your body to play however they wanted. And it felt even more erotic when Satoru licked the lone drop of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth only to kiss you right after.

Geto was still slamming his pelvis up and you got stuck in the realm of pleasure, hanging somewhere between the movements of the cock in your ass and the lips over your own. You could feel your thighs trembling. Your body, still oversensitive from the last orgasm and yet, already entering the state of another. The wave of lustful relief now flowing dangerously close to your core, the knot in your stomach holding just barely and you squeezed Satoru’s hair, tugging at them harshly. You were struggling to breathe through the heavy kiss he was laying on your lips, but the sensation of it rendered you unable to fight it.

And then it hit you once again. The man below you filled you to the brim, tearing down the last bits of composure you had and your world shattered once the final climax. You felt as if the lust and desire were steaming off of all three of you. The breaths were mixed and the tastes concocted. As all three of you fell onto the bed, blissfully satisfied, you began to slowly regain your mind to the sound of a soft chuckle from your left side. Satoru. He had a habit of laughing when he was fulfilled – a sign of his happiness, the state nearing high. There was some gratefulness in it as well.

“How are you feeling?”, the question came from the right side, where Suguru seemed to already plan how to take care of the entire mess. He kissed your shoulder softly.

“Good,” you replied to him, watching as he gathered himself up from the bed.

“You rest a little bit longer; I’ll go get washed first and then you two.”

[palajae]

episode three. | park sunghoon

PAIRING ▸ host!sunghoon x reader

GENRE ▸ ouran high school host club!au, high school! au, romance, fluff, angst, humor

WC ▸ 3.1k

SUMMARY ▸ host park sunghoon: the strong and silent type. with his cold, tsundere personality and killer good looks, it’s hard not to fall for sunghoon. his connection to sunoo is of utmost importance; however, you could be the one to change that. (but be warned, he’s a man of few words.)

AKA episode three of the kiss, kiss, fall in love! series

AN/NOTES ▸ social awkwardness, not proofread

sorry okay it’s been a fat minute since i posted but FINALLY JAE has gotten the next part out ‼️ i really channeled the engene in me for this one lmao.

EPISODE THREE. Beware the Ice Prince!

seriously, you only started attending the en-host club because your friends did and you really had nothing else to do.   

you had heard several of the boys in your grade were in the infamous club, but besides that, you had no interest in “club” affairs. 

natty and lily wouldn’t stop talking about how “chivalry wasn’t dead” and how “god had favorites.” you figured by going, you could kill some time and meet some new people.

mainly due to the fact that you were attached to the hip to your… well, sketchbook. what better to utilize the people around you for your passion? 

and the most pretty ones were—obviously—found at the en-host club! 

by going there, you could observe and hopefully see some good art. 

while your friends had their favorite designated hosts and activities, your first entrance to the club involved a lot of awkward silence and muttering. 

“you mean, you don’t want to hang out with any of us?” sunoo—you think—frowns. 

you shake your head, stammering. “n-no! i just, prefer to be alone. i can just-like-sit in the corner or something.”

he brightens up and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“i see. you just like the company?” 

you nod and the host smiles again. “that’s fine. you don’t have to be entertained by one of us. you’re welcome as much as you like! you could even sit by sunghoon!”

your eyebrows furrow as you follow sunoo’s line of sight to-

oh dear. 

probably the finest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on. 

a true work of art. 

your heart pounds uncomfortably in your chest as you glance back at sunoo.

“he doesn’t like to talk much either, so i think you two will get along well!” 

you look uncertainly at the controlled chaos happening all around the room, before back at sunoo. 

he nods encouragingly at you. “don’t worry. even though sunghoon looks like it, he doesn’t bite. in fact, it’s probably the opposite.”

holding your breath, you clutch your sketchbook tighter in your hands before approaching the table sunghoon was quietly sitting at. 

he didn’t even do anything, yet you felt so intimidated. 

wow, it was really stifling to be in his presence. awkwardly, you take a seat. and although he doesn’t move, you feel his eyes land on you. 

biting your lip, you hesitantly wave. 

that was it. no words exchanged. 

after a while, you finally began to relax. still, neither of you said anything. you even felt alright enough to open your sketchbook. 

your eyes would travel across the room, although they always landed on the same person. the one sitting in front of you, silently sipping his tea.

so you sketched. and you enjoyed it. so much to the point you returned the day after, and the day after. 

eventually, the hosts came to know you as a regular. they knew your exact order and your routine. the same every time you came—even without your friends. 

they understood that you simply appreciated sitting and observing. with all the things going on at the club, you enjoyed staying off to the side the most. 

like sunghoon. 

after the first day, you couldn’t work up the courage to approach and sit next to him when he wasn’t with sunoo hosting. 

that was fine. you had eyes. you could sketch him as long as you could see him. pages, filled with a variety of sketches, began to fill up your notebook. 

and most of them were of sunghoon. 

who were you kidding—all of them were of him. every outfit in every season, every expression of his (and he rarely showed emotion). you basically memorized sunghoon’s face. 

and in your time observing at the en-host club, you realized you had only heard him speak a total of six phrases: welcome, goodbye, yes, no, and thank you. 

he more than piqued your interest, but you were far too shy and unmotivated to do something about it. 

checking the clock, you sigh wistfully while putting your sketchbook back into your bag. as always, this was your time to leave. occasionally, one of the hosts would notice you leaving and wave goodbye. 

this time, you’re almost to the door when a tall figure suddenly appears in your line of vision. 

you falter, swallowing abruptly when you realize it’s sunghoon. he looks dashing in his pink hoodie and light jeans—someone mentioned the boys had a boyfriend concept today.  

you stare up at him curiously until he steps closer to you. your mouth dries up at the close proximity. you feel like you can hear your blood rushing in your ears. 

sunghoon doesn’t say anything, as per usual. instead, he walks over and holds open the door for you. 

for a second, you don’t move. and then it hits you. 

what the what the what the, he opened the door for you! 

you quickly squeak out a thank you before practically dashing out of the club room. you’re not sure if you heard or imagined the soft “get home safe,” coming from his voice. 

was he watching you? is that how he knew to open the door? why did he go all the way to help you? did he know what time you usually left? 

you fall onto your bed with a sigh. you were overthinking, and you were delusional. just a little bit. 

perhaps, you would work up the courage to talk to him next time.

you swear you’re not that delusional. most of the time it was you who was staring at sunghoon, sneaking glances at him when he wasn’t looking. whenever he was busy hosting. honestly, your best works were of his stunning side profile. 

but something feels different from that day forward. 

like…like sunghoon was the one staring at you. at first, you were sure you felt eyes on you. 

you would glance up from your sketchbook with a frown, glancing around the room. it was at that moment you would catch sunghoon turning away from you. 

but in what world would he be looking at you? 

he didn’t say a single word. 

it happened so often to the point where you would actually meet his eyes before looking away. you always broke eye contact first. 

this back-and-forth occurred four times before you decided to do something. yes, you counted. 

you decided to remind yourself that you only live once, and you took the chance. you finally stopped being a coward and sat next to sunghoon, one lovely afternoon. 

he seems almost shocked when you approach him, like your very first day at the host club. 

once again, no words were spoken. you simply smiled before taking the seat. unlike the other girls who usually fawned and squealed over him, all you did was sit and enjoy his company. honestly, he was so familiar to you at this point, you actually felt comfortable.   

and when you thought he wasn’t looking, you liked to sneak peeks at him as well. he was even more breathtaking up close. 

that became your daily routine whenever sunghoon was free. although it was absurd, you once thought that maybe he looked forward to sitting and watching with you. 

“what’s up with you and sunghoon?”

“h-huh?”

natty leans over from her desk to shoot you a look. “i mean, what are you two doing in the corner all day?”

you look down at your desk bashfully, “it’s not all day…i just enjoy his company.” 

lily laughs, “sure. i bet you have a lot fun staring at him.” 

you feel your face get hot as natty elbows her. “i think the two of you are cute. even if you have nothing to say to each other.” 

“yeah, i don’t know how you managed to get so close to him. sunghoon is pretty detached from the other girls. he’s just there half the time with sunoo.”

your heart quickens. was that true? 

lily sighs, almost face planting into the table. “what up with all the boys recently? heeseung has been so obsessed with that one student who i don’t even know the name of since they’re so busy studying all the time. and then the top two people of our class are constantly preoccupied with each other. at this rate, i’m gonna move to jake…”

you nodded in contemplation. she was right, you’ve seen heeseung following around your classmate like a baby duck following their mom. even weirder, the two smartest people in your grade started to sit together at the club. 

you were there for it all. 

“sim jaeyun? um, I’m not sure about him. he and riki have a lot of crazy fan girls,” natty wrinkles her nose. “hey, i did hear there was a new host! his name is jung…jung-something.”

“jungwon,” you finish for her. she nods, “i think he’s pretty handsome.”

“not as much as sunghoon though,” you unconsciously mutter. 

sunghoon can easily remember the first day you walked in, eyes wide like you were a kid on their first day of school. the corners of his mouth tilt up slightly. you looked like a baby kitten. 

he catches himself, focusing back on sipping tea while sunoo devoured his sweet treats. 

“do you want a bite, hoon?”

he shakes his head amusedly at sunoo’s bright expression. 

“you should stop eating so many sweets. you already had two slices of cake today.” 

while sunoo pouts and gets up to put his plate away, sunghoon refocuses his attention on you. he didn’t mean to—his gaze was just drawn to your presence. 

he watches wordlessly as sunoo approaches you. you looked so intimidated, sunghoon already felt bad and he didn’t know the reason. 

he catches himself again, internally chiding his own behavior. get a grip, you’re a host. 

suddenly, you’re approaching him. you look like a kitten again in front of him, just like when you first walked in. his whole body tenses. 

sunghoon waits, yet you don’t say anything. only a simple wave and that’s enough to light a fire in his heart. 

he’s surprised to see you sit down and pull out a sketchbook. he observes as you flip through the pages, trying to sneak a peek. but then he realizes he’s being kinda, really creepy. 

so sunghoon purposely turns away to focus. look anywhere but at the person sitting across from you, he repeats to himself over and over. 

after that day, he noticed you didn’t sit next to him. for quite a while. 

so, he chose to watch you. he watched you walk in every afternoon with a hesitant smile. he watched as you took the same seat near the window and pulled out your scuffed up notebook to draw. 

he watched how your lips pursed when you weren’t happy with a sketch, or how you would stop to think while looking around you. 

sunghoon liked the way your eyes lit up when you turned to a blank, fresh page. and when you would smile and greet the other hosts, gratefully accepting a cup of tea. even the look of concern you had on your face as you watched jake and riki do something stupidly dangerous again. 

the thing he liked the most, however, was when he felt your eyes on him when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

sunghoon’s not sure why, but he likes it. after all, he couldn’t say anything. he did the same thing to you. 

he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. 

that’s why, when you sit across from him one day with that stunning smile of yours, his breath hitched. 

sunghoon… wanted to say something. he tried, really tried, but no words would come out. he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

apparently, that was fine with you. you relaxed in the silence, so he did too. 

it’s not like he meant to, but he snuck a glance. he was so curious as to what you had been working on in that sketchbook of yours. he knew it had to be your prized possession, the way you carried it around everywhere. 

sunghoon certainly wasn’t expecting to see his own face, beautifully drawn. it was him from a few weeks ago, last week, and yesterday. he remembers the detective concept and outfits they adorned. 

you… you sketched it all. all this time, you sketched him? 

he’s truly speechless, and everyone knew it was hard to make the stoic sunghoon react. 

“…are you friends with y/n?” he randomly asks one day after the club had closed for the day, completely out of the blue. 

sunoo tilts his head, “we’ve talked. why?” 

heeseung pops by, “did i hear hoon’s got a crush? who could have warmed the cold tsundere sunghoon’s heart?”

although he wants to roll his eyes, he simply looks away. 

“y/n?” riki calls from where he’s playing catch with jake, “the one who doesn’t say anything and draws all day?”

“they could if they wanted to,” sunghoon remarks quietly. riki shrugs. 

sunoo watches sunghoon with an inquisitive expression. 

he’s never seen his friend act like that with the other guests before… 

“it’s his birthday soon?” the words spill out of your mouth without even realizing it. you stopped, overhearing some girls sitting near you. 

they eye you, and it registers in your head that they know you’re the one whom sunghoon often sits next to. you seem oh so close to him, and yet you don’t know his birthday? you feel embarrassed, making your way to your normal seat.

“hoon? yeah, his birthday is in three days,” sunoo nods. “why? are you planning something?” 

you’re quick to shake your head, flustered. “nono, i was simply curious… thanks for letting me know.” 

alright. you officially have three days to find sunghoon a gift. 

it’s only then it hits you. you know close to nothing about sunghoon. other than the fact that he was a host, you barely knew his likes or dislikes. heck, you barely even spoke to him. 

you’re doomed. all the other guests were probably going to get him extravagant gifts that were exactly to his liking. 

you? you scrambled to find something that would come in three days. and you weren’t even sure if he would like it. at the least, he could regift it to someone else if he really hated it. 

you clutch the small gift bag nervously behind you as you enter the host club. 

usually, decorations would be set up for the members’ birthdays. however, sunghoon never wanted a big celebration so they would get him a simple birthday cake every year. at least, that’s what sunoo told you. 

sunghoon wanted his birthday day to feel like any other ordinary day. you hoped you could stay true to that. 

or…not.

the sight of said host rejecting someone’s gift to him is the first thing that greets you. your smile immediately falters. 

he didn’t like gifts? your heart begins to race. crap, crap. what were you going to do? you couldn’t hide the gift—someone would find it. it was obviously who it was for, with the big fat words happy birthday printed all over the bag. plus your names written on it, addressed to sunghoon. 

your eyes follow him to his usual seat, only for your heart to drop. 

sunghoon looks around expectantly. almost like, he was… looking for someone (you). he does. almost immediately. 

if you move, he’ll see the bag behind you. heart racing, you decide to charge ahead and approach him. you couldn’t face a rejection of the gift you spent hours trying to find, but you also didn’t want to leave him hanging. 

you walk over nervously, doing your absolute best to hide the bag and appear unaffected. maybe he wouldn’t notice, right?

wrong. sunghoon was probably the most observant person on the earth. his eyes immediately fall to your suspicious hands.

it was over. his eyes flick back up to you with a questioning look in them. 

you close your eyes briefly, internally falling to your knees. well, there was nothing else to do. 

you nervously thrust out the bag towards him, hiding your face as you softly say,

“happy birthday, sunghoon.” 

you hold your breath and wait embarrassingly for the painful rejection. 

spoiler: it never comes. 

“thank you.” 

hearing his voice causes shivers to run down your spine. your eyes fly open. did he just…accept your gift? and more importantly, he spoke to you?!

he takes the bag and puts it aside on the table. 

“are you not going to open it?” 

he looks at your expectant expression before beginning to unwrap the gift. 

“i thought maybe we could share,” you mumble. 

sunghoon carefully opens the intricate wrapping to unveil the gift you ultimately decided on: a smooth, leather sketchbook with pencils. 

“now we’re matching,” you whisper before pulling out your own. 

“i… don’t know what to do with it.”

hearing his voice again still makes goosebumps appear on your arm. you stifle a laugh as you reach over to demonstrate. 

the real sunghoon watches in awe as you begin roughly drawing something in his new sketchbook. when you retract your arm, he’s finally able to see what you did. it’s a beautiful drawing of a cake and the words, happy sunghoon day! 

he glances up at you with wide eyes. you shrug and only look away. to your surprise, sunghoon determinedly picks up a pen and begins doodling as well. 

soon enough, the first page is filled with random drawings, doodles, and most importantly, meaningful connections. 

you both smile and silently laugh at each other’s drawings. sunghoon’s favorite is your drawing of a baby sunoo and his cake while your favorite is of sunghoon’s (rather awful, yet still recognizable) drawing of the seven hosts. 

this is the first time you’ve felt like you truly communicated with sunghoon, even if it was through a paper and pen instead of words. 

when the page is filled completely, you admire your collaboration work proudly. 

“thank you, y/n.”

your heart warms. “o-of course,” you stammer. maybe you were slightly very internally freaking out that he addressed you by your name. 

sunghoon must’ve seen your bashful expression because he reaches over to pat your head. nothing else had to be said, because in that moment, you felt all your feelings were conveyed. 

park sunghoon was supposed to be the cold and tsundere type of host. yet around you, he felt vulnerable, like you brought out a different side of him. 

as you sit across from him, sharing smiles, you wish this moment could last forever. 

all you can think is that sunghoon’s soul is so pure and needs to be preserved, protected. you really hope you can be the one to forever do that. 

previous episode. | next episode.

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @kynrki @heesterical @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount

@hoeshii @love-4-keum @luvhyun3 @dimplewonie @who-tf-soddhi

@microwvdstrawb3rri3s @asteria-wood @enhacatalog @june-pop @ohsjy

@ashtxrie @isoobie @mireyaaaaaaaaa @choppedballoondetective

SERIES TAGLIST ▸ @j3nnypng @llvrhee @mrchweeee @yoonights @yizhoutv

@xnkier @yongbokified @en-kays @in-somnias-world @shi-toshi

@avacelestepereira @kyanmeai @secretlyapartofthisfandom @enhaz1 @gojoelixir

@wonbinsnovia @nes-caf @renchai @m3chigo @starfallia

@grumble-0 @soobinbunnie5 @wonboni @yeahhemmings- @dammit-jjk

@bigwhatsblog @ppussamz @jayhoonvroom @jaeyuuns @lakoya

@loumin908 @jungwon-0902 @hooniiibunn @eneiyri

@bunnihhoon @mumeimei @jenniferecand @firstclassjaylee @qwonyoung23

@ghostiiess @charlizefaye

(if i missed anyone i’m sorry pls send in another message!) send a message to be added to the taglist!

@kflixnet

[marauroon]

Part 2 to espresso I beg 🙏

W A K E U P C A L L — JAMES POTTER!

a 6am shift at the coffee shop was the last thing you needed after a students’ night out. and james is way too energetic.

james potter x fem!reader (barista!au) | 1.4k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — no begging necessary ml, i love this au sm

You’re almost falling asleep as you clean out the basin of one of the coffee machines. It should’ve been done by yesterday’s closers, but the universe obviously hadn’t punished you enough by just giving you a 6am opening shift on a Monday morning in the middle of December.

You honestly thought your fingers were going to fall off as you fumbled the front doors unlocked, but now, nestled into the warmth of the overhead heater you really do feel like you could fall asleep where you stand.

You get it to a point, people have places to be and things to do, even at 6 in the morning, but you also have places to be, places being in your bed and not standing behind a counter serving sleep-deprived business men coffee whilst they wait for a train.

But of course, there’s James, bouncing around behind the counter like he’s ready to run a marathon. You can’t figure out how the hell he does it, even after all this time working together. He’s like an Energizer bunny, perpetually full of energy.

“Oi, what’s the matter with you today?” James asks, his voice loud enough to snap you out of your almost-sleepy stupor. He’s grinning, completely unaware that you just want to collapse into the nearest seat and sink into the floor.

You glare at him over the top of the espresso machine. “I’m fine, just living the dream,” you mutter, your voice hoarse with the faintest trace of sarcasm.

James laughs and pulls a fresh batch of croissants from the oven, his movements effortless. It’s as if he’s been awake for hours, yet you know full well that he probably didn’t get much more sleep than you did last night. Between university assignments, the social committee work, and, of course, his infamous club nights, it’s a miracle he’s even functioning.

“Yeah, you look like you’re living the dream,” he teases, his smile never faltering. “You look like you want to crawl under the counter and hibernate.”

You roll your eyes. "You’re so chipper for someone who was at the same club night as me last night."

James shrugs nonchalantly, wiping his hands on his apron before grabbing the next batch to bake. “What can I say? I’ve got an unbreakable constitution. You know that about me.”

You snort, your tiredness momentarily forgotten at the absurdity of his statement. “Unbreakable? James, you’re literally always falling asleep in the running social meetings, I’m pretty sure you just don’t notice how badly you’re functioning.”

“Me? Fall asleep?” He raises an eyebrow, a mock offended expression crossing his face as he hands over a cappuccino to a regular customer. “I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent multitasker.”

“Right.” You’re not buying it. Not when you’ve seen him slumped in the corner of the student union’s meeting room, eyes half-closed, trying to pretend he’s taking notes for the event planning. You swear he’s somehow mastered the art of sleep while looking awake, and you’re in awe of how easily he pulls it off.

“I mean, if you’re tired, I can always take over for you,” James adds, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ve got more than enough energy to go around.”

You snort again, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “You’d be a liability on the coffee machine. I can’t risk you having a caffeine overdose and bouncing off the walls like a pinball.”

James grins, unfazed. “That’s just an extra perk! Think of how much more productive we’d be if I was bouncing off the walls. You’d get to be the lazy one, and I’d be the charming one, keeping everyone energised,”

You shake your head, though you can’t help but smile despite yourself. “Right, charming. That’s exactly what we need at 6am.”

The door to the coffee shop opens with a chime, and another customer steps inside, pulling your attention away from James. You greet them automatically, still feeling a bit dazed, your exhaustion not quite gone. As you prepare the next cup of coffee, you try to focus on the rhythm of the morning.

But it’s hard not to notice James in your peripheral vision, his energy contagious despite your best efforts to remain annoyed at him. How does he do it? It’s not just the fact that he’s awake and functioning—it’s that he’s always so alive in everything he does. Whether it’s the running social, the random nights out, or the mornings like this one, he always has that boundless enthusiasm.

“How do you do it?” you ask suddenly, barely catching yourself before you sound too curious. “How are you this... this awake? All the time?”

James doesn’t seem to be caught off guard by the question. He just leans on the counter, watching you carefully with that easy grin of his. “Let me get you onto this magical thing called micronaps,” he says, his voice dropping just slightly, jazz hands and all to sell his ‘idea’. “Otherwise, you can always leech energy from the people around you. Like I do to you.”

“Me?” You’re almost choking on your disbelief. “I’m literally half-dead right now.”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he’s sharing a secret. “That’s the point, love, I’ve stolen it all,”

You blink. For a moment, you just stare at him, the early morning fog of exhaustion making it harder to process what he’s saying.

“Okay, stop. You’re making me look bad,” you finally mutter, tiredness still edging into your tone. “You’re making fun of me now,”

James just chuckles, ruffling his hair in that way he does when he’s pleased with himself. “What can I say, it’s my favourite pass-time,”

You give him a side-eye, but you can’t quite muster up the same level of annoyance you usually would. Instead, you sigh deeply, rolling up your sleeves as you prepare for the next rush. “Whatever, you win. Happy?”

“Absolutely,” James replies, grinning from ear to ear as he hands over another order.

As the morning drags on, you notice yourself relaxing into the rhythm of the shift. James is right about one thing—he really does have a way of making everything more fun, even when you’re running on fumes. You catch yourself laughing at his jokes more than you want to admit, and despite your grumbling about your lack of sleep, you can’t help but enjoy the banter that flies between you both.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of customers, coffee machines, and laughter. Every time you catch James’ grin or hear one of his sarcastic remarks, you feel the weight of your exhaustion lift, just a little bit.

By the time your shift ends, the early morning fatigue has started to recede, replaced by a sense of quiet contentment. You’re still tired, no doubt about that, but it’s a kind of good tired, the kind you get after a productive day. And maybe, just maybe, it’s also the result of being around someone whose energy is impossible to ignore, even if you want to.

“So,” James says, tossing his apron into the back room as you both prepare to head out, “same plan for tonight?”

You look at him, suddenly aware of how much time you’ve spent with him lately. “Absolutely not. I’m just glad I made it through this shift.”

He winks, pulling his jacket on. “Come on. Besides, the night’s still young, and the student discount on pints of strongbow is calling my name,”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, good for you mate, I’m going to sleep.”

“Boring,” James says, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you both step out into the cold December air. “I’ll see you on the run tomorrow, right?”

You can’t help but smile, even as your thoughts drift to the never-ending list of things to do. “Unfortunately,”

“I’m sure an 8k will wake you from your hibernation,” he grins.

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 1

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change— Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing

Words count: 3.1k

chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8

Miya Osamu wouldn’t consider himself bad-looking. In fact, back in high school, he was quite popular. He remembers being on the volleyball team, where girls would show up to every game just to catch a glimpse of him, even more than ‘Tsumu—though his brother would argue that to the grave. But to be honest, Osamu didn’t really care about the attention. It was nice, sure, but it could also be annoying at times.

Now, as an adult running his own business, things have changed. The fangirls have been replaced by regular customers—people from the neighbourhood, office workers, students. Some of the girls still look at him, maybe even flirt a little, but it's different. They’re not giggling or blushing like teenagers. They smile, exchange pleasantries, and Osamu catches the occasional lingering glance, but no one is making a scene.

It’s almost a relief—being popular in school was one thing, but running a restaurant requires a different kind of behaviour. He can’t really ignore girls or play hard to get anymore. He has to smile and be polite all the time. Still, he is good at keeping people at arm's length and has a whole strategy built to keep his female customers without giving them false hope. So when a girl has a crush on him (and he can sense from afar) he adopts his three-steps rule: smiling but not too widely, looking at them in the eyes but not too intensely and when he hands them what they ordered, carefully avoiding any fingers brushing or any physical touch. With that, Osamu hopes that people will come back not because of how he looks but because they will like what he makes. And that’s just fine with him.

And above anything else, if he didn’t have time to date in high school because of the club, now that he is working, he has even less time to give to a significant other. So, he concluded that it’s better to keep people away.

(Well, except you.)

So yes, Miya Osamu is used to the attention. However, as he takes a glimpse at the two obasan grocery shopping on the other side of the road, whispering and grinning at him, he remembers why he hated fangirls back in high school.

“Do we really have to do this in the middle of the street?”

You wave at them with a polite smile and turn your attention back to him.

“Yes, one more, please!” you beg, holding your camera up.

Today is particularly windy and you decide to tie your hair up in a ponytail to keep strands from flying across your face (and Osamu knows you always tie them up when you want to be focused on something.) The sun is up in the sky, and the breeze is chill, summer is over.

The man sighs heavily, dragging out your name in exasperation.

“Osamu.” Your tone shifts, firmer now, the one you use when you're getting serious. Osamu likes to pretend you’re scary when you get like this, but really, you’re not. “Can you tell me who studied communication and social media management here?”

“You,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

“And who is in charge of your Instagram and Facebook pages?”

“You,” he repeats, already knowing where this is going.

“Right. So, unless you want someone else to ruin the carefully crafted image of your business I built, you should probably let me do my job.”

“Yer not even employed here,” he points out, raising an eyebrow.

You match his look, raising yours higher.

“Fine, fine,” he says, throwing his hands up in surrender. “But just one more photo. We’re supposed to open in five minutes.”

You grin in victory and start snapping photos of him. “Miya Osamu, you’re awesome. If you showed your face more you’ll get so much followers.”

Osamu feels a slight warmth creeping into his cheeks, he lowers his cap to hide his face. It’s getting hot, maybe summer isn’t really over?

“But can we at least do that inside?”

He knows you don’t really care whether it makes him uncomfortable or not because you just want to give the best image of Onigiri Miya possible and what’s better than the (good-looking) owner standing in front of his shop, half sat on a table, arms crossed? Nothing, you claim.

“Turn your face so I can see more of your left profile.” You instruct, ignoring his question.

Osamu is about to ask you to stop when Atsumu appears dressed in his MSBY Jackals sweatsuit, frowning.

“Oi, shop's still closed? I’ve got practice, need to eat first,” he complains, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Oh hi, Atsumu!” you lower your camera, “can you wait a few more minutes, I’m taking pictures of your brother.”

“Huh? But how am I supposed to be the best setter in the world if I have an empty stomach?”

Osamu sighs, “All right, all right. I’m openin’ up now. Just wait a sec.”

Atsumu watches as his brother opens the front door. “Wow, shocker. Ya actually listened to me for once.”

Osamu shoots him a flat look, one that makes you chuckle.

You both follow the younger twin inside.

The restaurant is small, but you always tell Osamu it’s warm. The walls are white, so the light reflects all over the place, the counter is made of wood, it’s so clean, sometimes you’re afraid to eat on it. There’s still some work to do and some decorations to add, but Osamu likes this place.

He sees your eyes waver all around the room with a little bit of pride. You both come here every day, but still, Osamu only realises how far he has come once you’ve passed the door and the look on your face lights up like a kid.

Atsumu’s eyes flick over to you as he pulls a chair. “What were ya doin’ outside?”

“I wanted to take some pictures of Osamu for his social media to celebrate the first anniversary of the shop. You know, to get more people to come.”

“Maybe ya should take me as yer model, I’ve always attracted more girls than that moron of ‘Samu.” He puffs his chest proudly.

Atsumu startles when the other twin brutally puts down a packed box with four onigiri inside in front of him. A nice way to tell him to shut up.

He blinks in confusion, staring at the box. “Oi, these are new?”

“Yeah, spicy cucumber and tarako, tell me what ya think.”

“Am I yer crash test or what?” Atsumu’s eyes widen, looking between you and his brother.

Osamu shrugs casually. “Ya always eat what I make, don’t ya? Thought ya wouldn’t mind.”

Atsumu’s indignation fades into a grin, though his pride won’t let him admit he’s secretly pleased to be part of his brother’s culinary experiments. He picks up an onigiri, inspecting it before taking a big bite. “Not bad. It's bitter and salty. But 'Samu, if I end up at the hospital, it’s yer fault. Don’t cry when ya’ll have to tell Ma’ her favourite son is dead.”

“Always so dramatic.” You whisper with a chuckle. The corner of Osamu’s mouth lifts a little at your words.

“Aren’t ya goin’ be late?”

“Nah,” Atsumu says mouth full of rice, “Practice starts a little bit later today, our manager’s lookin’ for someone to handle communication, so he had all those interviews and shit and coach wanted to be here.”

Both you and Osamu exchange a look.

“Atsumu.”

He turns to you, raising a brow.

“Atsumu,” you repeat, more slowly. “You realise I’ve been jobless for a month now, right? And that I’m looking for a job in communication? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that would be good for ya. Ya’ll be surrounded by men. Bokkun, Omi-kun… even Shoyo-kun has joined us.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. “And? Why is that a problem?”

Atsumu snorts, leaning back in his chair. “Just wonderin’ if ya can handle all those big guys, seein’ as ya’ve been single for—what—three years now?”

The brown-haired twin sees your features cringe at his words, but you quickly add, “But I’m with Osamu most of the time,” you point out, glancing over at his brother, “I’m used to boys.”

Osamu smirks at that.

Atsumu eyes the two of you before finishing his onigiri. “Right, just don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

“Do you think I should apply?” You ask Osamu. There’s something in your eyes like you’re searching for his approval but at the same time, his opinion wouldn’t matter anyway for you have already made your decision.

You have changed so much.

Osamu remembers the sixteen-year-old insecure girl he met in high school. Back then, you were quiet, always keeping yourself distant. He hadn’t even had a real conversation with you until the sports festival in his second year, and even then, it had been short, perhaps a little bit awkward. People would forget your name; forget you were in the same grade as them. It never seemed to bother you though. You appeared cold in front of people, but deep down, Osamu always knew you were kind.

The years he spent at your side confirmed that.

Maybe it was the fact that you used to date his former teammate and friend, Suna Rintarou, that pulled you into his world, but even after that relationship ended, you stayed in Osamu’s orbit. In fact, he can hardly remember a time when you weren’t around. You spend so much time at his restaurant, you have dinner together every night, you’re there on the weekends and every January 1st, for who knows how many New Year’s now, you are the first person he sees. You’re a constant in his life, maybe what he could qualify as a best friend (not that he needs to title your relationship, it’s too special to be defined with words).

But somehow, everyone still thinks you’re an introvert, that you don’t like to talk much. That statement never fails to make him smile. Because he knows better. He knows that you love telling him about your day and you love to talk on the phone until the a.m.—when you’re sleepy you tend to ramble. When you start a new activity, you always need to explain in detail what you did and where and how and what you liked or disliked about it. Osamu has no certainties about this world, except for one thing; you might be reserved with others, but never with him.

“Sure, go for it, just know ya’ll have to see ‘Tsumu every day.”

“So what? Are you afraid I’ll spend all my time with your brother instead of you?”

“Me? Yer the one who’s gonna miss me.” He leans on the counter to whisper that last part into your ear. From up close he can see the beauty marks on your face, he rests his chin on his palm and smiles (a side smile, always).

Your lips turn upwards, “You wish.” He can feel your breath against his cheek.

“Oi! Stop whisperin’, I know yer talkin’ about me,” Atsumu interjects, both Osamu and you straighten a little bit. The setter says your name, “D’ya wanna come with me so I can introduce ya to the manager? Maybe ya can give yer CV?”

You turn to Atsumu, “Of course, I’m coming. See you Osamu.”

“I'll close the shop earlier so I can pick ya up Champion.”

"You're the best." You wink at him and join the blond twin outside.

Osamu doesn’t have the time for a relationship because his business comes first.

Or perhaps it comes second.

Right after your friendship.

Osamu waits for you in the parking lot of Osaka’s gym. Your interview is supposed to end in a few minutes but if it were to end sooner, he decided to show up earlier, just in case. It’s become a habit—being there for you before you even ask. It started years ago, and somehow, it never stopped. He catches sight of you emerging from the gym, but your expression worries him. He’s seen almost every side of you by now. Disgust when you eat menma in a ramens, guilt when he picks you up at 3. am. downtown ‘cause you drunk a little bit too much—you always apologise a thousand times, as if he minds driving you home— sadness when your heart had been broken by your first love. And that face, he knows it too; you're overthinking.

Osamu raises a brow as you approach. "So... how’d it go?"

You hesitate, lips pressing together in thought. Your silence makes him uneasy. Osamu notices his hands are starting to sweat just slightly so he decides to hide them in his pockets. Over the years, Osamu has learned that if you're nervous, he is too.

"It went great, actually. Better than I expected." You look down at your shoes for a moment before adding, "But that doesn’t mean anything, right? I don't know if they really liked me... I should have done better..."

Osamu clicks his tongue and opens the passenger door. "Yer always so damn humble. It’s annoyin’, ya know that?"

You chuckle softly and roll your eyes. When you sit next to him in the car and he starts driving, you’re fast to realise he is not going in the direction of your apartment.

"Where are we going?"

"I want to thank ya for takin’ care of the shop’s social and ya know, just supportin’ me and stuff, openin’ the restaurant wasn't easy but ya were there. So yeah…”

“You don’t have to, you know I’m happy to do it.” Your eyes are so soft, Osamu wants to lean in them.

“I know.” He simply answers, he always answers the same thing.

 “How about Chinese food?"

You sink into your seat and nod. Osamu can see that you’re happy with his choice from the wrinkles that form around your nose as you smile. A warm feeling spreads into his chest, it’s comfortable like he had just drunk a sweet cup of tea in winter.

“So, how was the interview?” He then asks (and he knows the conversation will last the whole ride because remember, you never shut up with him).

So, you tell him about how it started with the manager and coach, both professional and somewhat intimidating at first, but then the mood shifted when the captain, Meian, walked in. You describe how calm and composed he was. He made a couple of jokes, and you tried your best not to burst into laughter ("I need to stay professional, you know.") Then, of course, Bokuto barreled in behind him like a human whirlwind.

"Bokuto-san was... a lot," you laugh. "He barely let the manager finish a sentence. He was so excited, he even asked me to make a post about him. But you know it’s not like I’m managing the social media yet, so he was very disappointed, and I felt bad. Maybe I should have made a post anyway, to show my skills? But then what if they didn't like it? What if they think I'm incompetent?"

"I'm sure ya did great, smartass" he uses a soft voice, in an attempt to reassure you. "What happened after?"

"And then," you continue, your voice lowering a little as if you're embarrassed, "Sakusa-san showed up. He didn’t say much—actually, he didn’t say anything at first. He just dragged Bokuto-san out of the room. I think he was annoyed."

There it is—that slight blush on your cheeks when you mention Sakusa. It's subtle, but Osamu has known you long enough to notice. For some reason, it bothers him more than it should.

"He’s... interesting," you add, trying to brush past it, but Osamu’s mind lingers the way your voice softened when you mentioned him.

"Is he? I don’t know him that much.” A sudden urge to change the subject invades him.

“Atsumu warned me not to fall for any of his teammates. Said it would be ‘too much drama for the team.”

Osamu glances at you briefly, curious. "And what d’ya think?"

You shrug casually and shake your hands. "I’m not really looking for a relationship right now."

Those words hit him harder than he expected. There’s a surge of relief in his chest, so sudden and sharp that he can’t ignore it. But he does his best to keep his face neutral, hoping you don’t read his mind.

You’re probably afraid to get hurt again, he understands that. When your relationship of three years ended up with Suna, you were devastated. Osamu remembers you crying for months. He was so afraid you’d starved yourself that he couldn’t sleep at night and decided to take care of you as much as he could. He wished he’d done more though.

He keeps his eyes focused on the road like he doesn't dare look at you at this moment.

He thinks the conversation is over when you break the silence again. "What about you? You never talk about your love life. What happened with your last girlfriend? What was her name again?"

Osamu stiffens. He hadn’t thought about her in months, and now that he does, there’s no real emotion attached to it. She was nice, sure. But nice wasn’t enough.

He needs someone funny and kind and bright.

He wants to laugh and to cook and to sit in silence with the one he loves.

"Ah, her," Osamu says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "She didn’t like that I spent so much time workin'."

You wait for him to say more, and he can feel your eyes on him, asking him to keep going. He sighs, feeling a weight settle in his stomach. And with you, he is about to say, but that would make you feel guilty, and he doesn’t want that.

You frown, confused. "She was very pretty though. Why didn’t you ever introduce me to her? Were you... ashamed of me or something?"

Ashamed? Of you? The idea is so ridiculous that it almost makes him laugh, but he can’t shake the look on your face, the way your brows knit together, and you purse your lips slightly.

"I’m not ashamed of you, idiot," Osamu blurts out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he can think them through. “I guess, I just didn’t really have the time.”

Your smile softens, and though you don’t say anything more, he can see a glint of joy in your eyes.

“Why are ya smilin’ for?”

“You must really love me.”

Osamu feels his heart skip a beat; he almost misses to stop at the red light.

“Why-why would ya say that?”

“You only insult people you love, like your brother.”

He opens his mouth a little, but nothing comes out.

“I’m glad we’re friends.” You tell him and your voice sounds like a lullaby.

Fuck, Osamu thinks. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken another coffee an hour ago because he can hear his temples beating loudly and he needs to do something with his hands—they’re shaking, they’re shaking. You’re going out of the car once he’s parked; he looks at you. Your smile is still playing at the edge of your lips.

Friends, of course, you’re friends.

That’s great.

Perfect.

Osamu wouldn’t change anything about it.

author notes: i'm sooo happy to start this story, this chapter was essentially a way of setting the scene. compared to the prequel it will be mostly osamu's pov.

i'm gonna try my best to make it possible to read it as a stand-alone but i still think reading the prequel can help to understand the bond between osamu and y/n, anyway i hope you've enjoyed that chapter :)

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @obibiwan, @teyvatsunsets

[hana-no-seiiki]

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY

YANDERE! ACTOR OC x IDOL! READER x YANDERE! FAN OC

— inspired by oshi no ko & lana del ray’s pretty when you cry. ff: did you know i was gonna have my usernames in social medias be “akumarine” which mixes my two fixations att (oshi no ko & iruma)? no? well now you do!

tw/cw: yandere themes; mentions of seggs and substances but no smut. mentions of non-con. reader is a cold-hearted bastard. substance use. character death. murder. reader gets called pretty (but that’s a gn term so fite me). necrophillia.

this was inspired by uh… one of gen’s stories. let’s say. and mr. devil’s stoner reader.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“I’ll wait for you babe, that’s all I do, babe.”

GENIUSES WERE BORN, NOT CREATED

That was the mindset Kahliel had. Some people were literally and figuratively born different. Only a select few were able to gaze into the intricacies of their craft and tune it to heights others could only imagine.

You were one such genius. It only took one gaze to understand that. You saw the set in ways even he didn’t account. The lighting, the blocking, and the subtle body language, the angles of which you thrived in. He only heard of your amazing work as an idol, how you manage to look entrancing in every shot and moment, how you are able to mesmerize even those that swore they hated you.

But genius, true geniuses also have one other trait Kahliel recognized. It was their heartless nature.

You two met on set years ago as young adults. It was one of his earlier works as the main actor. Not a film, but a musical. Even then he could see the void in your eyes. Your cold demeanor repelled the people around you. He could have never expected that kind of performance from a person who seemed to hate even the regular ground they walked on, much more the stage.

That musical launched him to stardom and led to you two having sex for the first time.

“All those special times I spent with you, my love. They don’t mean shit compared to all your drugsz”

It was embarrassing really. Kahliel had no time and therefore no prior experience on such things. But you just looked so pretty underneath the blue dim lighting of the club the afterparty was held in. A drink, maybe a couple of weed later and you found yourselfs in a dingy motel’s bedroom. Entangled in eachother’s bodies, the scent of sex, sweat and the strongest of all — puke wafting through the air.

He couldn’t believe it. He admired you for quite a bit. Sure you are stoic, standoffish. But there were times you’d defend him from other people on set. You weren’t cruel and unfair.

At least, he thought you were.

Kahliel was proud of his performance as an actor. So, as you left him that night. Without so much as a farewell. He does not cry.

He does not weep.

Even as his heart was shattering.

HE MEETS YOU AGAIN ON MUSIC VIDEO SET. YOUR MUSIC VIDEO’S SET.

And it took him everything not to run up to you. He had not heard about you at all after the musical. Too focused with his own career and distraught by the way you treated him and left, he threw himself into acting, partying, fucking other actors and actresses — heck even randos or fans who’d take his money and shut up about it. It was only by destiny’s design that you two cross paths again.

“[Y/N]?”

“Yes?”

Indifference. The same look you gave him way back then. Like he was just dirt underneath your shoe. You probably don’t even remember that you’ve slept with him once before. Much less the kindness you spared when everyone else looked down at him. The very reason he entrusted his virginity to you.

But then, there was also something else. Your eyes were blood-shot. Your countenance, despite being as heavenly as he remembered, showed signs of deterioration.

You were high.

“No, I just wanted to give you these. As a token of acting together once again.” He said as he presented a large bouquet of spider-lilies, practically blinding you with its reds.

“Thank you. Leave them over there.” You pointed to a corner with a grateful smile.

Later on, he saw you throwing his gift in the trash. Not a hint of emotion on your face.

“But I don’t really mind, I’ve got much more than that.”

Viné was a fan of yours from the very beginning. Under the pseudonym Grapevine, he’d post regular updates. Essentially he stalked you for a living. He had a day job of course. But his true passions lied with watching you on the daily

You’ve gotten sloppy lately. You almost never check your gifts from him. Accepting them eagerly. Not a care in the world if they were bugged or with a tracker.

He used to think that it was terrible how you got into substances. Worried how it’d impact your health and performance on stage and screen. But now, now he reveled in it.

Viné already knew where you lived of course. But there were times where you’d move all of sudden or where he wasn’t free to check on you.

Now, his hands trembled in ecstasy as he watched you in your room.

But you were with someone else.

Viné didn’t care for much aside from what you starred in, and even in those songs or films all he could focus on was you.

So who was this man standing in your room as you were drugged out? Pushing you unto your bed with a grin so wide it hurt just to look at it.

Viné stared as this man defiled you. He watched as he saw him squeezed you tight, smothering his filthy lips all over your body.

You . . .

You were betraying him.

How could you do this to him? He supported you all this this time but this is how he gets repaid? A free show to watching his god be with someone else?

He does not watch the rest of the live-show. Utterly disgusted by your behavior and cheating.

He quickly made his way through the mess and trash strewn all over his house and grabbed a dull knife from the kitchen. He sets off into the night.

He had to teach you a lesson.

The two men, despite your arms going limp, continued their actions. Unaware that you had choked on your own vomit a while ago.

A smile was etched on your face, pretty as it always was.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: “Greasy” girls

This one was actually requested of me, and I’m happy that these are useful enough to a few of you that I get requests, lol. I’m going to be focused on the kind of girls within the East side, those associated/date greasers etc. I hope that aligns with what you were hoping for anon.

The “girl gang” isn’t entirely a myth but is not complete reality either. Full on grease/biker gangs of women weren’t a very common thing— love the Pink Ladies to death but they’re more the acceptation than the rule. Isn’t to say they’re wasn’t clubs or instances of a girl or two joining a guys gang.

Now, to my memory Pony describes Greasy girls as wearing a lot of makeup and comfortable cursing a lot. Interestingly in the mid 60s both a “no makeup” makeup look and extremely bold makeup were becoming popular. And I mean popular as moms going to a grocery store would have a blue lid, cat eye liner (popular with a older crowd/early 60s as it’s a holdover from 50s etc) but I’d figure girls in the neighborhood would still go bold in order to differentiate themselves. Same goes for the hair— go big or go home (where as guys grease they’d tease)

Fashion wise, like greasers a lot of the time it’s just the clothing of their profession/regular working class. By the mid 60s the whole “leather jacket gang” biker image was beginning to fade and it was more hot rod Greasers (choose your path kid Bike or car lol). So picture work uniforms, the occasional pants/shorts look Jeans and shirts were also used! Jeans were just rolled up a tad,

Now I dont think they’d go full on mod- both as it’s an expensive fashion to my understanding and taking into account its Tulsa Oklahoma. However, I can see East Side girls taking to the scandalous mini skirt.

I’d also keep in mind that they’d still get into trouble, just in different ways than the guys (depending on who they are. Some may be a regular girl.) Truancy, dress code, talking back etc. loud, brash, speak their mind. Get angry — won’t follow social strain and expectation more common on women in middle/upper class circles.

Greaser girls also aren’t a 24/7 mean sass machine just like the guys aren’t. These are the “cousinly” girls Pony is more comfortable around!

They also come from low economic status, potentially rocky home life and all the same issues that plague the guys of the East side. They’d just handle it differently, if you want to get really gendered for a minute they don’t have the luxury to take out their problems using their fists.

—

It’s really frustrating to try and research because a lot of images will be a Halloween costume, 2012 tumblr rockabilly resurgence and whatever people have now dubbed “Americana” (which is the most modern type of outfits I’ve ever seen don’t even get me started)

Then looking into potential jobs etc I just get womens rights papers which— great fine but I’m looking specifically at the women who were working - not fighting to work etc

Also strangely looking up the 60s working class brings up mainly British articles? As if there’s not one in America???

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 4

Hello! I am loving the response for this story. Thank you so much. In this one we get pouty Steve and chaotic Eddie.

Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

***

To say Steve was vibrating out of his skin would be an understatement. Eddie had really killed it on stage. He was a little unsure about the music itself, but watching Eddie play said music got him on his feet and bouncing to the beat.

The rest of the band was great, too. But Eddie was electric. Like he was born to be in front of an audience. There was a passion to their sound that made all the music on the radio sound rote and boring.

Steve and Robin followed Miranda to the backstage.

The security guy eyed Steve and Robin warily. “Who you got there, Mandy?”

Miranda looked over her shoulder. “They’re with me. They’re friends of Eddie’s.”

The security guards eyes narrowed. “And if I call Eddie, he’ll tell me the same thing?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Always so fucking suspicious, Callahan. What you think they’re holding me against my will to get to Eddie?”

Callahan opened his mouth, probably to agree when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Eddie standing there.

“Let them through, Cal,” Eddie growled.

“Right away, man.” He moved aside and let them in.

As they walked Eddie explained, “Sorry about that, for some reason this asshole thinks he’s security for Metallica or some shit.”

They got the “green room” that already had Gethin already with the rest of the band, chilling.

“You were right, Gare,” Eddie said as he strutted into the room. “Cal had them held up in security.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “I thought so. I’ve talked to management about getting someone else to do door duty, but they think he’s the best.” He waved his hands sarcastically.

Steve snorted. “I was at a store like that once,” he said moving further into the room. “Was so sure being extra super cautious was better anything else, because anything else was just being lazy.”

“Yes!” Brian said. “He gets it!”

Steve smiled.

Robin grinned at him, “Was this Scoops or Family Video?”

Every head in the room turned to Steve and Robin.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie said. “Do you mean to tell me that you two lovely individuals worked at Scoops? In those ridiculous little sailor outfits?”

Robin and Steve looked at each other and shrugged.

“Yeah,” Robin said. “Steve hated the hat.”

“My hair was too thick for it sit properly on my head,” Steve grumbled, “so the damn thing kept falling off!”

Robin smirked and eyed him sidelong. “And you’re sure it had nothing to do to the fact that you thought it hid your best feature and you couldn’t get any bitches?”

The whole room laughed as Steve blushed. “Snitch.”

Robin laughed. “Love you, babe.”

Steve stuck out his tongue at her before turning to the room. “You guys all coming out to drinks with us?”

Eddie saluted. “All cleared for drinking. Except are dearly beloved designated drivers, Gareth and Miranda.”

Steve grinned. “Great! Robin and I took an Uber here, so we don’t worry about who’s driving home tonight.”

Everyone nodded.

“You two are going with Jeff and Miranda,” Gareth explained. “And Gethin is coming with the rest of us.”

Steve felt a pool of disappointment settle in his stomach. But he could see the logic in the match up.

“Sounds great!” Robin said cheerfully, bumping Steve’s shoulder with her own.

Eddie winked at Steve. “Don’t worry, big boy, we’ll have plenty of time to socialize once we get to the club.”

Steve had suggested a nearby club for their after party because the last thing he wanted to do was try to get to know Eddie better surrounded by people that judge the ever-loving fuck out of him. Because yeah, Steve loved giving stereotypes the middle finger, but he wasn’t immune to the snide remarks and sneering looks he got from people on the regular.

So he was really relieved when Eddie agreed to the change in location. He just assumed he would be going with Eddie to club and was a little cross when he found out they weren’t. He tried not to let it bother him as they all walked out to the parking lot.

Robin bumped his shoulder again, clocking his mood immediately. He smiled at her, but he knew it was weak. God, he was such a loser. He was quiet in the car as they drove to the club. Standing in line, his mood started to improve as Eddie turned his full attention on Steve.

“So what did you think of the music, Stevie?” Eddie asked once they lined up.

Steve thought about lying and saying how much he loved it, but he knew that would only get him into trouble later.

“I’m not really familiar with the genre to know for sure,” he said instead. “I would love for you to educate me though, broaden my horizons a bit.”

Which was apparently the right thing to say because everyone was nodded their approval.

Eddie positively beamed at him. “I’d love that! When would you like to meet up for that?”

Steve laughed delightedly. “Sundays are a no go, I have dinner with Dustin and his wife Suzie, but I close up my shop every day at eight. So really any time after that.”

Eddie grinned. “Is Monday at nine okay? What time do you open in the morning?”

“I don’t open until ten,” Steve said brightly, “so nine on Monday sounds fantastic, we can order in and make night of it.”

Eddie bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly. “I’m so there. Text me your address.”

Steve pulled out his phone and did just that. “There you go.”

Eddie pulled out his own phone and smiled at the new message. “There I am.”

Behind him Gareth and Gethin were making gagging noises.

Jeff smacked the back of both of their heads. “Ignore the children. Their mother didn’t raise them right.”

Robin laughed as Steve shook his head.

“It’s like Dustin and Mike all over again,” he said, resigned.

“Who’s Mike and Dustin or Dustin and Mike or whatever?” Brian asked.

Eddie bounced up and down. “Ooh, ooh! You’re going to love this Bri! Dustin and Mike are Nog and Tayr respectively.”

Brian’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “No way! You know Nog and Tayr?”

Steve scratched his cheek and half shrugged. “If those are their D&D characters then sure, I’ve known them for ages.”

“Stevie here used to babysit them!” Eddie said excitedly.

Steve blushed. “More like made sure they didn’t kill themselves doing some stupid ass shit while their parents worked to make sure they had a roof over their head and food in their bellies. But yeah, good kids.”

They got into the club where the music was loud but not overbearing, the lights were dimly lit but not so dark you couldn’t see and the atmosphere was hopping without being oppressive.

In short, it was Steve’s favorite place to go.

Soon even the Corroded Coffin boys were bobbing their heads to the music as they drank and danced the night away. It was a fun evening that ended too soon if you asked Steve.

But the thought of Eddie coming over on Monday is was kept Steve from pouting all the way to the cars.

“You two are coming with us, pretty boy,” Eddie said with a grin. “Bri and Jeffie and Mandy aaallll live in the same general area so they go home together. Which means Gareth takes you home!”

Gareth who had wisely gotten the address to their apartment before they got drunk off their asses just shook his head fondly. With the help of a mildly tipsy Gethin, the two managed to get the three drunks pilled into the back of the car without much fuss.

Robin wisely sat between the two boys so they wouldn’t do anything they might not recall in the morning as she wasn’t as drunk as they were.

Eddie got dropped off first much to Steve’s chagrin. Robin kept slapping his arm every time he pouted.

Gareth just shook his head every time he caught them in the rear view mirror doing exact that.

Gethin and Robin helped a very ineberiated Steve up the three flight of stairs to their apartment.

Robin thanked Gethin and got Steve into bed. She flopped down next him and murmured. “We are going to regret this in the morning.”

“Not if I don’t wake until noon,” came the mumbled response.

“Smart.”

*

Eddie woke up the next morning with his head pounding a rhythm in his brain that was outside his usual Sunday morning hangover. The place Steve chose for them was outside Corroded Coffin’s usual wheelhouse, but it was fun.

The type of thing that Wayne had suggested he do. He was still planning on going to the park today for some doodling, but last night was good. Really good in fact.

He could tell that Miranda and Robin had become fast friends and he loved that. With Brian and Gareth not having romantic partners, Miranda often felt a little on the outskirts of the band. But if Robin and Steve kept coming to their shows, Miranda would have people to chat with.

He got out of bed and staggered to the bathroom to take a cool shower and shave. Once he felt mildly human again, he made some coffee and had cereal for breakfast.

He cleaned the apartment and did dishes. Once he was satisfied with the state of the place, he pulled on a loose t-shirt that had the sleeves cut off, making sure the tattoo was covered and applied sunscreen, even going as far as to put another bandage over it, to protect it. He just needed to get out and get fresh air, but not at the cost of ruining his brand new tattoo. Then he packed up his drawing pad and art pencils and walked to the nearby park.

It wasn’t really a park. At least not one maintained by the city, but rather a strip of green in an otherwise grey landscape of hell. There were always kids kicking around a soccer ball and teenagers laying on the grass smoking weed.

It was Eddie’s favorite spot to just doodle and people watch. He just let his hand and mind wander as he free-handed a bunch of sketches. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there just enjoying the breeze and the sounds of the city, muted around him.

He felt the growl of his stomach and looked at his watch. He had been sitting there for three hours. Yeah, it was time to eat. He put away his art stuff into his bag and hoisted it up on his shoulders. He felt really lucky today; he didn’t get hit with a soccer ball, he didn’t get harassed by Karens and the cops didn’t come by to scare the teenagers off.

Eddie got the fast food joint and ordered his lunch. He happily munched away while he visited the band’s social media. And if he grinned at the two new followers on their TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter accounts, you didn’t see shit.

He walked back to his apartment and let himself in. He went to go to the bathroom and as he was washing he hands he realized that he had made a grave error.

Eddie had done everything to keep his tattoo safe, but had neglected the rest of him. His cheeks, his shoulders, and the back of his neck were all bright cherry red.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He dialed Steve up immediately. “Steve, I think I fucked up our appointment this week.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, more worried then disappointed.

“I protected my new tattoo when I went out to draw,” Eddie explained, “but forgot about the rest of me.”

“Let me text you where I’m at,” Steve murmured, “so I can check out the damage and see if we need to reschedule your tattoo appointment, okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said letting out a shuddering breath. “Thanks, man. Sorry about all this.”

He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice when he said, “Hey don’t worry about it. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

Eddie agreed and hung up. How could he have been so stupid? He even had the sunscreen out for the tattoo for fuck’s sake. Why didn’t he make sure the rest of him was covered, too?

His phone trilled in his hand and he looked down at the message from Steve.

He supposed there was one silver lining in all this. He got see Steve a day earlier than planned.

***

Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8 Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20  Part 21 Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25 Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten 

[dirtysvthoughts]

𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER TWO

pairing: model! minghao x stripper! reader

word count: 1.5k

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, female! reader, hao’s sorta kinda a regular customer, soft dom! minghao, steamy/intense makeout session, super/mullet minghao inspired, partial nudity, vip room sex, slight use of pet names (doll, masterpiece, baby), aaand i think that’s it

playlist songs: adorn - miguel, mushroom chocolate - quin & 6lack, anime girls - melli

notes: thank y’all for the love on pd so far! i’m getting notifs nonstop and that makes me really happy :’) hope you enjoy this week’s chapter!

taglist: @im-gemmy , @enhacolor, @hooniewnderland , @svtup , @kawaiikels @weeevrse @diorsfxck @kyexvly @woozarts @ifuckcheol (let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist)

you apply the finishing touches to your makeup, admiring how you looked in your silver sequined two-piece set and matching seven inch heels. to your surprise, you could already hear the loud atmosphere from the dressing room - and it wasn’t even 11 o’clock yet.

“it’s gonna be a good night,” you think to yourself, smiling to yourself at the thought of you covered in hundred dollar bills.

before you head out, you scroll through your phone one last time, looking at your social media feeds. double tapping on a friend’s post, you see a notification appear at the top of your screen.

minghao: hey, are you working tonight? i’m back in town for a show, but i need to relax and see you 😩

you bite down on your lip, your eyes rereading the message and your brain taking in every word. minghao is a famous model, somewhere in the world he was always in a show, walking the runway for all of the luxury brands. his handsome looks and his insanely gorgeous figure made him the it-boy every designer and photographer dreamed of.

you first met minghao at the club a few months ago, when he came for a magazine shoot and his friends decided to take him out. the second you laid eyes on each other as you were walking around the main floor, he took you by the hand and soon you were dancing for him in front of everyone. it didn’t take long to convince minghao about getting a room, your body clenching around nothing as you think about how big and hard he was in those jeans when you started to grind on him, thanking the heavens that your outfit made it possible to feel everything.

😈: hao! yeah, i’m gonna be working tonight. pay for a room as soon as you get here and i’ll be waiting 😏

minghao: i’ll try and get there within the hour. see you soon babe ❤️

you quickly toss your phone to the side when you hear your name being called, realizing that you would just have to kill some time before you got your main event.

——

as soon as they get through the doors (an hour later like he said), minghao walks in with his entourage, his dress shirt buttons deliciously exposing some of his toned chest, and his black distressed jeans accenting his legs. met with some screams, he greets his crowd as his people make sure he’s given enough space.

the music has switched a bit, and more sultry, intimate tunes fill the building. your hips rotating in rhythm as mushroom chocolate’s chorus comes on, playing with the straps of your top as you flirt with the customer in front of you.

so immersed in your own world, you don’t even realize that minghao has finally spotted you and approaches your space, sitting down a few inches away from your audience. your eyes for a split second reveal your shock and surprise, and minghao can’t help the smirk that crawls on his face.

“did you think i wouldn’t show up? i’m hurt, my pretty little doll. you know i’m a man of my word.” you stop dancing and walk towards him, gingerly sitting his lap, both your legs on opposite sides of his.

“mmm, trust me, i know you are, you know it’s just been a minute since i’ve seen you hao.. you look different,” you trail off, eyes wandering all over his body. did his muscles get bigger or something?

“good different or bad different?” he asks.

but before you can respond, someone clears their throat. the person sitting across from you and minghao stares in disbelief. right… you still had someone to “take care” of. you sigh, kind of wishing that you had gone straight to a room so your time with minghao would’ve been interruption-free.

“give me a sec, hao,” you say crawling off his lap, missing the contact and approaching the other customer. “i’m sorry, but it looks like i have to cut this short,” you say feigning a fake disappointment. “but, if you decide to wait for me, i can guarantee it’ll be worth the wait,” you say taking the cash on the floor, bending over in front of the two, teasing them. obviously you don’t notice, but minghao bites his lip at the sight, hoping that he would get to see that again in the next few minutes.

when you’re done, you take him by the hand and the lead the way up the stairs to the vip rooms. you stop at the first empty one you see, brushing the curtains away as he lets go of your hand to face you.

“you never answered my question, y’know,” he says staring directly into your eyes. you stare back at him a little confused, already forgetting what he had said earlier.

he laughs, “wow, you forgot already? what’s going on doll?”

“nothing,” you say chuckling back at him, “i just, have a lot on my mind now.. and it’s mostly you..”

“oh? care to tell me more?” he says, putting his hand on your waist, bringing you closer to him.

“i guess to answer your question, it’s a good different… you’re always hot, but tonight, hao? you’re fucking irresistible,” you swipe your tongue across your lips, biting down on your skin.

“really now?” he smiles, his lips inches away from yours. but before you can say anything else, his mouth crashes on your soft, pillowy lips, trying to take in as much as he could of you.

you put your arms around his neck, trying to bring him in closer as you match his energy and enthusiasm. minghao’s hands begin to roam your body, especially your breasts. he couldn’t help but admire how temptingly delicious they looked in your bra piece. you moan into his touch at every little trace and brush, craving for more.

“mm, minghao!” you whimper when he get adventurous and delicately touches your crotch, and you clench yet again around nothing. you continue to moan out his name in bliss and neediness, but after a minute, an idea pops in your head.

“m-minghao, you wanna take this to the couch?” you say trying to snap him out of his daze for a second.

without another word, he sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the couch, your mouths still on each others. when he finally feels his legs against the edge of the furniture, he sits down, placing you on his lap.

not wanting to wait any longer, minghao takes off your bra, slowly revealing the top half of your body. he hisses at the sight, nearly groaning out at how the colorful lights in the room added to the glow that covered your body.

“you’re such a masterpiece,” he says as he once again guides his hands toward your body, this time paying extra attention to you chest.

while he was focused on that, you took to the opportunity to unbutton his jeans and pull his zipper down. he realizes where you wanted to go, and helps you get them, as well as his boxers off. once they both pool at his ankles, you smile when you can finally get to what you want after all the foreplay.

as you sink down on him, you both let out a loud moan feeling of being inside each other. “g-god, fuck,” you whisper into his ears clawing down his back, pressing into his chest. even though the music has long been forgotten to you, somehow your hips naturally grind to the rhythm. minghao notices and takes hold of your waist, guiding them in the right places. “god, you feel so good, baby,” he groans.

slowly but surely, you begin to feel a good pressure build in your core, your whimpering getting more frantic. “ahhh shit, shit, minghao, m-minghao,” you begin to move faster wanting to release all over him. and when he hits the right spot in you, you can no longer hold back, and you nearly scream, coming all over the lower half of his body.

you try and catch your breath, not wanting to come down from your high, but remembering you still had a job to do. “fuck, i needa go back downstairs soon,” you say getting up to find your bra top.

“do you have to go back now?” he asks, pulling his boxers and pants back up.

“well, not right this second,” you respond fastening your straps. “did you wanna stay a little longer?” you smile sweetly.

“yeah,” he says leaning back on the couch, returning your sultry gaze. “haven’t seen you dance for me in awhile,” he plams himself over his pants, already getting worked up at the memory.

you walk towards the pole, your arm holding onto the pole. “then minghao, be prepared for a dance you’ll never ever want to forget,” you say hooking your legs to spin on the pole.

[spoopydooblr]

Demons | Chapter 1

Pairing: Billy Butcher (The Boys) x Supe!OC

Summary: Over a year ago, Lilith Murphy escaped the experiments and torture of the Sage Grove Center. After laying low and stripping at Super Girlz, she’s found by Billy and The Boys.

Warnings: descriptions of sex work, sexual violence, sexual themes, mental illness, eventual smut (!)

AN: omggggggggg so anyways….here’s ch 1! get excited y’all!!! please do let me know what you think! comments and likes keep me writing lol

Lilith Murphy was running late. So late that her boss at Super Girlz even noticed.

“You’re on in ten, Murph.” He grumbled, barely looking up at her as she entered the back office.

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” She breathed, pushing past him. They both knew it would definitely happen again.

Her manager grunted in response, staring down at his nude magazine.

Lili made her way to the dressing room, smiling curtly to the other girls as she made her way to a chair. She wasn’t really close with any of them—Lili preferred to stay on the outside. It was safest there.

The reflection in the mirror was a sore sight—her red hair was a mess and she still had last night’s makeup on. Smudges of black lined her eyes while leftover glitter stuck to her cheeks. She took a makeup wipe from her bag and wiped her face, preparing it for another night of heavy makeup and sparkles.

The routine was the same every night now. Lili was basically nocturnal at this point, her sleep schedule a mess and social life nonexistent. But she had to be there, it was the only way to survive after escaping Sage Grove.

It was hard for Lili to believe it had been over a year since the facility got broken into by some randos. She had been stuck there for years, enduring endless pain and torture because of the abilities she possessed.

Now wasn’t much different, though. The endless pain and torture didn’t stop, even now that she was free.

She was so used to pain she felt numb.

——————————

“Are you sure this is it?” Hughie asked as Billy pulled the car up to a dark alleyway.

“This the address Mallory gave me.” He grumbled, done with Hughie’s shit.

Hughie felt a shiver down his spine. They were in the middle of a bad neighborhood, about to walk down an alleyway.

“And you’re sure she’s here?”

“What I just tell ya? She’s here.”

Hughie gulped as Butcher led the way into the alley. Black clouds looked over the city. They reached a locked metal door, to which Billy banged on.

A disgruntled man swung the door open.

“Password?”

Hughie looked expectantly to Billy.

“Sixty-nine.” He said.

The man nodded and led them inside a dark room.

“The girls start in five.” He told them, pressing a button and opening another, more heavy door.

Inside, pink and purple lights filled the dark space. Supes were all over, sitting at the bar and on luxurious couches.

“What is this place?” Hughie whispered to Butcher.

“You never been to a supe club before, kid?”

He shook his head. Billy chuckled, looking around. “You ever been to a regular club?”

Hughie laughed nervously. “Um, no.”

“Well, maybe if yer lucky, one of these broads will give ya a wank.”

“I don’t know if I—“ Hughie started, hesitating when the lights started to go down.

“Stay close.” Billy said, walking towards a stage in the middle of the room. It was crowded, but they were able to find room towards the front.

“Butcher, I don’t know if we have time to watch the dancers—“

“Would ya fucking shut it, Hughie?”

“But where’s…uh…where is she?”

Billy didn’t have time to answer as music erupted from the speakers.

————————

“Are you ready?” A voice boomed from the stage. A twinky-looking EmCee had appeared.

The crowd erupted, the men almost feral for the girls that were about to come out.

“Introducing…the Super Girlz!”

The crowd once again went nuts, hooting and hollering.

Hughie looked at Billy, who kept his eyes on the stage, smirking. Work could sometimes have a little play, right?

The lights went off and everything was black. Hughie wondered if they had stumbled into the wrong place.

Pink lights flooded the stage as three girls stepped into view. They were all clad in lingerie, barely covering their asses. The men around them were practically frothing at the mouth.

Rap music started to play and the three girls began their routine, but something was missing. It was almost like they were waiting for someone. They shook their asses in a line, staring seductively into the crowd.

From the behind the stage curtain, a long, pink tongue appeared, snaking around the girls. The tongue licked one of the dancers on the cheek and she grinned.

A man next to Hughie hollered at the girls. It was all so, so weird. Who was the owner of this tongue?

Suddenly, the tongue snapped back into the curtain. The purple fabric was pushed to the side and a new girl appeared.

“Is that…” Hughie whispered.

Billy just smiled, keeping his eyes on the girl with the tongue. He had never seen her in person—just her mugshot in the file Mallory had given him. She was beautiful, of course, but he wasn’t expecting her to be that beautiful. And that body…

————————

Lili stepped out of the curtains, her heart audibly beating. All of the Supes around her could probably hear it.

It was so embarrassing to be nervous every show, but she couldn’t help it. One, she was on the run, and two, it was scary to be naked in front of randos.

Her outfit tonight was an all black bikini, contrasting her fellow dancers’ pink sets. The bottoms were definitely too small and the top barely covered her nipples, but Lili didn’t mind. Less clothes was equal to more tips.

The men in front of the stage cheered for her, sticking out their tongues. It was something her regulars did, thinking she would appreciate the solidarity. She didn’t.

Lili started her routine, dancing along with the other girls and showing off her twisty tongue. She had told her boss that elastic tongue was her only ability, which he was fine with. The other girls barely had powers in the first place. If only they knew who she really was.

Each girl took their turn doing a small solo for the men, grabby hands pushing dollars into their underwear.

Lili stretched her tongue in her mouth, moving her hips to the beat.

When it was her turn, she let her tongue fly, the pink thing seemingly having a mind of its own. The men yelled, begging for it to touch them. She smirked, letting her tongue lick at her own thighs as she knelt, ass out.

Her hands went up to cup her tits, swinging her head around, letting her bright hair flow.

The crowd was getting crazier, as they usually did, but she didn’t mind. It was easy money.

Hands reached out to her, stuffing one’s into her bra. Lili smiled seductively, her tongue also grabbing dollars out of the air.

She was almost done with her routine when she saw a large, strong hand reaching with a twenty.

Lili looked up, mostly expecting some old, rich creep. Instead, her blood ran cold.

————————

Sage Grove, 1 year ago

Lili sat in a damp, cold room. They had just done one of their “sessions”, which was basically just legal torture. The doctors at Sage Grove had specific instructions for her, because of her background. She was apparently too powerful for V experiments. Instead, the doctors at the facility did the opposite, pumping her full of V Inhibitor to control her powers. She felt weak and tired all the time, her once great powers pouring out of her like blood.

She sat on the icy floor, wishing that tomorrow would be the day that the V finally killed her.

Suddenly, sirens wailed from outside. The door to her room opened, but no one was there. Carefully, she got up and walked to the doorway, eyes widening at what she saw.

Patients ran through the halls, their various powers surging. Lili smiled, she was finally free.

She sprinted down the hallway, unsure if her powers would even work. The V Inhibitor was still in her system, slowing her down.

The front of the facility was open, with patients causing chaos all over. She could’ve probably beat the shit out of anyone there, but that would make her more of a target than she already was.

————————

The minute the grass touched her feet, Lili felt like she was home already. Not that she had a home, but if she did. She pondered her next move, the idea of a home on her mind as she ran through the forest.

Then gunshots rang in her ears. Lili ran to the nearest tree, hiding behind it as she searched for the origin of the sound. Fifty feet away, one of her friends lay on the ground, bullet holes in his chest. She gasped, looking to the assailant. A man in a Hawaiian shirt held a smoking AK. Next to him was a blonde woman who kind of looked like Starlight.

No, no. That was Starlight.

What was she doing at Sage Grove with a mysterious gunman?

————————

Lili couldn’t forget a face.

Like literally. Her brain was so powerful she remembered most things.

The face of the man in front of her was the same as the gunman from Sage Grove. Sure, he was hot, but he murdered a kid. Why was he, and the twink next to him, at Super Girlz?

Lili took the money from him, shoving it in her bra and backing up.

He stared her down like she was some kind of prey.

Lili turned, her nerves almost ruining the other dancer’s routine. She had to go. Now.

The dance was almost over and sure, her boss would be mad she left, but Lili was in danger. Even if the guy didn’t want to kill her, he was surely being followed. The Seven had their ways.

Lili left the stage, her stilettos clicking on the floor as she ran to the dressing room.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” she mumbled, trying to grab her clothes and bag. She couldn’t be on the run in lingerie.

“Well, well, well, look what we have ‘ere.” A British accent perked her ears. Lili turned, heart dropping.

“Who are you?” She pushed. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Billy looked her up and down, eyes lingering a little too much on her tits.

“Just a little chat, right Hughie?” He motioned to the skinny man next to him.

“Uh, uh yeah.”

“Whatever you want from me, I don’t have it.”

Butcher took a step closer. “We don’t want nothing from ya, love. Just a little help, that’s all.”

“Help?”

Billy smirked. “I got a tip that a little lassie gave Homelander a run for his money few years ago.”

Fuck. Lili’s body went rigid. Her mouth dried. “Well then you got the wrong girl.”

Butcher laughed. He got even closer.

“Nah. I think we got ‘er right here.” He stared into her eyes. If she wasn’t on the run, she’d consider it a tender moment.

Billy paused. “Eh, Demoness?”

The nickname stung her like a fucking wasp.

“Don’t call me that.” She spat.

“Ah, there’s the spunk!” Billy turned to Hughie.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“M’ sorry love, how rude of me.” He stepped forward, again. “I’m Billy Butcher, and this here,” he clapped the twink on the shoulder. “This is Hughie Campbell.”

“Okay, and?” Lili looked past the men and to the door. “How the fuck did you find me?”

“Not hard when ya stripping around in ya knickers and using that tongue of yours.”

Rude, but true. Lili shivered, crossing her arms in front of her breasts. She was still practically naked. Again, Butcher’s gaze lingered a bit too long.

“You two enjoy the show?” She spit back, turning to grab her clothes.

“Eh, seen better.” Butcher replied. Hughie looked uncomfortable.

Lili scoffed. “Sure.” She rummaged through her bag, desperate to cover up. “Doesn’t matter anymore, though, does it?”

Butcher was silent. Lili took a step towards him, almost as tall as him with her heels. “When The Seven finds me, which they will, no thanks to you, they will kill me.”

“That’s why we’re here first, love.”

Lili almost pressed her thighs together at the nickname. “And what makes you think I’ll come with you?”

Billy laughed. “You got anotha option?”

Lili thought for a second. She really didn’t have another option, but Billy and Hughie were still suspicious to her. How did they find out about her in the first place?

“I—“ she started, but before she could get the words out, the door to the dressing room burst open.

For the second time that night, Lili’s blood ran cold. In the doorway stood The Deep.

“Lilith!” He said, seemingly relieved to see her.

Frankly, Lili was too stunned to speak.

“Ah, how nice of you to join us!” Billy said, standing in front of Lili. She didn’t expect him to try and protect her. “Looks like you were searchin’ for the little lady here too.”

He looked past Billy. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

Lili rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Kevin.”

Billy looked back to Lili, giving her a questioning look.

“N-no you’re not! Look at you, Lil!” He motioned to her bra and panties. “Why didn’t you find me when you escaped?”

Something inside of her snapped. After the years and years of torture, she was finally free. There was nothing holding her back from finally showing The Deep what she was made of. No Homelander watching over her or power inhibitors.

“You don’t fucking own me.” She spat.

“But, but I thought—“

“You fucking raped me, Kevin!”

Billy turned to Lili, then to The Deep.

Lili could hear his heartbeat pick up.

“The fuck ‘e talking about, Lili?”

She ignored him. Fight now, traumatic backstory later.

“I did not!” The Deep wined. “Why does everyone say that?”

“Maybe because yer a fuckin serial rapist bastard, ever think about tha?”

Lili felt her hands get hot. Oh no. She hadn’t felt her powers in a long time. The energy surged through her body, lighting her nerves up. Her heartbeat rang in her ears. There was no doubt The Deep could hear it, too.

“Lili, please.” He begged her. “Come back with me.”

“Never.”

“Please?” He pouted.

“The lady said no, Kevin.” Billy smirked, stepping towards The Deep.

They stared each other down. Lili didn’t know if Billy or Hughie were Supes. If they weren’t, it was going to be up to her to defeat The Deep. Her hands heated up more.

“Kevin.” She said, pushing past Billy. “You need to go.”

“Lilith—“

“Now!” She yelled, hands lighting on fire. Long, pointed fingernails grew from her fingers. Her eyelids flickered, revealing blood red irises, contrasting to her usual ocean blue.

Billy lunged back, but was unsurprised by her power. He must’ve read her file.

She spoke through new, pointed teeth, with a deeper, more ominous voice.

“If you don’t leave, I’m going to have to fucking kill you.” She couldn’t help the way she was feeling. After years and years of repressing her powers and taking the V Inhibitor, Demoness was back.

“Lili, baby—“ The Deep had only seen her powers once, ten years ago.

Lili opened her mouth, half expecting her tongue to slide out like a big joke. Instead, she breathed fire, flames shooting out of her mouth.

The Deep barely got out of the way before the fire scorched him. He fell to the ground.

“Fuck! What the fuck!”

“Get out!” She yelled.

The Deep scrambled up, grabbing the door handle.

“And Kevin,” Lili smiled with her fangs. “Do tell Homelander I’m back,” she looked to Billy, then back to The Deep. “Tell him I’m coming for him.”

Billy smiled to Hughie, who looked terrified. Lili forgot he was even there.

“Y-you can’t defeat him. He’s too powerful.”

Lili laughed, entire body in flames now. “Well a girl can try, right?”

“Lili—“

“No. Fuck you. Get out!” She shot fire from her hands, burning his skin.

The Deep crawled away, leaving an ablaze Lili with Billy and Hughie.

“Fuck.” She whispered, the fire on her body dying out. It was exhausting being a supe. Lili felt her body relax, but the relief was too much and she faltered, barely able to catch herself.

“Haven’t used those powers in a minute, huh?” Butcher grabbed her shoulder.

Lili’s eyelids fluttered. She was not going to pass out in front of a sexy older man.

“Uhh—“

“Here.” Butcher shrugged off his long black coat. “Don’t want ya lookin like a whore when ya meet the boys.”

He said that, though she could tell he would rather have her in her underwear (or nothing at all).

The boys?

[celandeline]

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (32)

On the eleventh anniversary of Venetia’s death, I find myself back in England, with Saltburn in the distance. 

The wind rips through my hair, but if anything, I’m grateful - it’s the only source of relief from the oppressing heat of the August sun beating down on me. The pros and cons of renting a convertible - no roof, no air conditioning. Farleigh sits in the passenger seat, a cigarette perched between his fingers as he rests his elbow on the door. He smiles when he catches my glance. 

I refocus on the road ahead of us. The leather of the steering wheel is hot, and burns a bit when I shift my hands. The glint of the wedding band on my ring finger - still shiny and new - catches my eye for a moment, and a rush of giddiness fills me. Since the wedding, every time I’ve looked at it, I can’t help but smile - even though we’ve been living like we’re married for years. 

It doesn’t feel like it’s been eleven years since Farleigh and I met. I can still remember the summer of 2007 like it was yesterday. Endless days by the lake, just lounging about in the grass, talking about everything and nothing all at once. That night we smoked on the roof. All the nights he would slip into my room to complain about Oliver. The first time we kissed - the first time we fucked. How things had taken a turn for the worse the very next day. I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much as I did that summer. 

It doesn’t feel like it’s been eleven years - but at the same time it does. All the dots that connect us from then to now are lined up perfectly in my head. It started out rough - juggling my last year at NYU and teaching Farleigh how to be a normal person was hard, not to mention the part-time job I was working on top of it all. But after he’d gotten used to working, and started fiddling around with social media things had gotten easier. By the time I’d graduated, he was pretty much self-sufficient.

Since then, New York has swept the both of us up into her madness. For Farleigh, his social media presence lifted him back up into a social status he was familiar with, hanging out with nepo-babies and fallen-off child actors in the VIP sections of New York's hottest clubs. For a while, he was something of a club queen until he started leaning more into fashion, posting styling tips, high end hauls and purchasing that first sewing machine. God, that thing was loud. I don’t miss it - the one he has now is so much quieter. Fashion blogging turned into being invited to runway events to designing to having his collection featured in Vogue’s last issue. Now, he’s in high demand to style celebrities for red carpets. 

I’m happy for him - really. It’s obvious that he loves his work, even if it does mean that our house is covered in fabric scraps. And that I have to go with him to fashion events - not really my scene, but it is fun to see pictures of us on E!News. 

For me, it’s been objectively less exciting - but I wasn’t trying to climb my way back up the social ladder. Once I was done with NYU and had my journalism degree, it was tabloid work for a while - reporting on who Taylor Swift was dating or who Ariana Grande had been spotted with that week - until I had woven myself into the industry enough that I could network my way into a more respectable news source. I wrote for the New Yorker for a while, and then The New York Times, and now Time magazine itself. It’s a lot of traveling, but since Farleigh doesn’t work a regular 9-5 he can usually come with me (unless there’s some event), and he likes to. It ‘expands his horizons’ and ‘inspires him to create’ supposedly. I think he just doesn’t want to be home alone. 

In all my traveling, I never thought I’d end up back here. 

Saltburn glitters in the distance, the winding road leading up to the gates, growing ever closer as we cruise along. When we’d gotten the news that James was sick, I’d reached back out to Elspeth, sending well wishes from the both of us. On a whim, we’d sent them a wedding invitation too. I didn’t really expect anything to come from it - Farleigh was adamant that they would just ignore it, considering how things ended between them. And for a while, it had seemed like he was right - until a handwritten letter from Elspeth had showed up in our mailbox. 

It was long winded - of course, it was from Elspeth - and apologetic, explaining how she couldn’t make the wedding because James had died, but insisting that we come back to Saltburn for our honeymoon. Something about it being where we met made her adamant there was no better place to spend the first couple of weeks as a married couple. 

After talking it over, we decided to take her up on her offer.

Which is how we’re here, now, gliding down the road to Saltburn in a convertible, Iconapop’s I Love It blasting through the speakers. It feels like being twenty again - the summer sun beating down on my skin, the smell of cigarette smoke trailing from Farleigh’s fingertips, my hair fluttering out behind me as I drive too fast on purpose. I glance over at him - my husband - for a second, catching a glimpse of the way the sun paints him in luxurious gold. He’s gorgeous. He’s always been gorgeous. 

Again he catches me looking. “You’re supposed to be driving.” He shouts over the wind and the music. 

“I am!” I say. “It was two seconds-”

“Eyes on the road!” He ignores my protests, pointing his cigarette at me threateningly. 

I roll my eyes. “Maybe if you were less distracting it wouldn’t be a problem.” I joke. “Stop being so pretty.”

“I couldn’t even if I tried, Eves.” He says, leaning over the center console to smack a kiss to the side of my forehead. Taking one hand off the wheel, I hold out two fingers for his cigarette. He places it between them, and I take a drag before handing it back to him. 

God, it feels like being twenty again. 

I miss her. 

< previous part | next part >

[buttercup-yoi]

I saw your WIP game post! Honestly, I'm curious about all of them, but if I had to choose I'd pick: PARTY IN THE CLUB WITH PHICHIT, Alpha, and Lost Woods

You got it! Thanks so much for sending in an ask ❤️

PARTY IN THE CLUB WITH PHICHIT

different first meeting au

Phichit has a good fake ID, but that doesn't stop Yuuri from worrying. What if Celestino finds out, and scolds him for corrupting his rinkmate? He's not entirely convinced that Phichit can restrain himself from posting on social media. Celestino follows him there, just like the majority of the skating world. It's not like he wouldn't notice.

"So this is where you've been sneaking off to all the time," Phichit says as they get out of their Uber.

 "Not all the time," Yuuri protests. "Not that often at all. Just occasionally."

"Mmmhmm." Phichit holds out his phone and Yuuri obediently gets in frame for a selfie. The resulting photo shows his smile looking strained.

"Don't take any in the club," he pleads, for the second time that night, as they approach the main entrance. There's an orderly line of people waiting on the sidewalk, but Yuuri walks right past them.

"I won't post anything incriminating," Phichit agrees, which isn't the same thing. "Don't we have to wait in line?"

"What?" Yuuri asks, frowning. Before he can clarify, the usual guy who stands at the entrance waves them both in with a smile. He waves back, feeling awkward. The employees here are always so nice, even after dealing with his drunk self on a semi-regular basis.

"Never mind, I guess. Do you know him?"

"Um, no." It's really not helping him shake off the 'regular clubber' accusations.

Alpha

omegaverse where alphas are more of a commodity and Yuuri gets to go alpha shopping. Very E.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Katsuki, but someone else just purchased one of your top picks. I’ve brought Number Seven here for you, but let me know if you’re interested in more options.”

This alpha he brings in is finely muscled and completely naked, with short silver hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Yuuri’s mouth goes dry, and he has to swallow before replying. “Just this one is fine. Thank you.”

“If you need anything, or you’ve made your decision, just ring the bell.” He points to a button near the door. “Enjoy!”

For a minute, Yuuri just stares. This is really happening, isn’t it? A naked alpha, muzzled and chained to the wall; hands bound.

“Hello,” he says, trying to focus on his face and not the thick cock hanging heavy between his statuesque thighs. “I’m Yuuri.”

The alpha nods.

Ah—right, the muzzle. “Sorry, I guess you can’t talk.”

The collar does have a name on it. Yuuri leans in to read the small, engraved letters, then he can’t help but laugh. “Viktor?”

Another nod.

“I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just—that’s the name of my dog, too. Vicchan. He’s a toy poodle. You’re a lot bigger than he is.”

Lost Woods

Viktor and Yuuri are both at a lowpoint in their lives and get trapped in a shared dream until they work it out. Loss of identity feelings.

The overhead lighting has a particular hum that's nostalgic. Yuuri spends a long time warming up, fastidiously avoiding his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors as he moves. Not that he particularly needs to avoid an injury, which his career in ashes and his return to the ice theoretical but unlikely.

Celestino hadn't seemed surprised, when Yuuri ended his coaching contract. When he'd broken the news to Phichit, it was the same.

His normal dance leggings are cutting into the extra fat on his hips, and he feels it with every move as he starts up a slow and familiar routine.

Yuuri has always been mentally weak. He knows this about himself, is resigned to that fact. He's been unsure before, and has struggled with a feeling of being an imposter as long as he can remember, but what he's feeling now is different. It's a numbness, almost, a heavy layer of snow over his heart, muffling sound and light.

His phone vibrates in his gym bag, snapping Yuuri out of his self-centered pity. The clock says he's been here for three hours, which can't be right—but when he checks his phone it's true.

> Pick me up cigarettes on the way home.

It's from Mari. She's blunt, but rarely this direct.

> I will.

He replies right away, to assuage her worries.

As he's cleaning up and  slinging his bag over his shoulder, Yuuri catches his own gaze in the mirror. Even his wave of self-revulsion is muted.

Thanks again for sending an ask!

[sunbeamedskies]

Life Changes/Writing/Romance/Spiritual Stuff

I'm at a time in my life where I need to journal. I'm going to start doing personal rants on here in addition to the usual stuff. They will only be lightly edited

I feel like I've put too much pressure on myself to have an amazing two months in London. This is the first time I've ever stayed in one single foreign city for so long. It's such a huge achievement and lifelong dream. I've mostly had a great time, but lately I haven't been doing a great job of getting enough sleep, haven't been seeing enough daylight, and haven’t been going to the gym as often as I want as a result. I've made some great friends and socialized a lot, but need to work on my book more

Writing is what I’m meant to do. I feel such a vast sense of personal power, confidence, and calm when I’m writing on a regular basis. Even typing this makes me feel like I’m wading into a cool pool on a scorching day, my muscles wondering why I didn’t bring them relief sooner. It’s tied to the self-sufficiency I need in order to live the life I want as well

It’s only in recent times I’ve really understood how not drinking fully affects my life. The choice not to drink was born out of wanting a more spiritual path unaffected by potential pitfalls. I wanted to rise above thought instead of fall below it, as Eckhart Tolle describes it. I don’t believe being a drinker would have been good for me overall, and if you would have asked me even a few years ago, I would have told you it has never had a negative impact on my life. However, I’ve realized it largely hinders my prospects for fun and romance

Most people are drunk or high by a certain point at get togethers. I can never just go up to anyone and try to kiss them because they’re probably drunk/high and it’s unethical for me to have my sober awareness while they’re out of their minds. If someone drunk/high tries to initiate something with me, I can’t accept it either

In the world nowadays, so many people meet at pubs/parties/clubs or on apps. The apps scare me, so I don’t use them. I never really expected romance within the short span of two months, but I can’t even have anything vaguely intimate with anyone. It would be fun to be friends+ with someone, but it seems unlikely because I haven’t made enough friends. I'm also just looking for a lot of nice, lifelong friendships in general here, so actively seeking out someone to be friends with benefits with would feel weird to me. I’m open to so much, but it seems like it will have to wait until next year when I have more time. I wish more people didn’t need liquid courage to say what’s on their minds

Most people dread situationships, but they intrigue me. What does it mean to explore something with someone that’s so open-ended and potentially messy, where feelings might or might not arise? Spiritual lessons can sprout from all kinds of connections with others- what could one teach me? Even situationships feel far away right now

The more I focus on my creative goals, the less anything else bothers me. But I do wonder how my past spiritual experiences will affect any future relationships. Everyone always talks about how lovely and miraculous profound spiritual experiences are, but not many discuss how isolating they can be. I’ve had several spiritual awakenings throughout my life- all without drugs- that shook me to my core. I remembered what I believe to be the place we go to in between lives, filled with unconditional love, understanding, and serenity that is hard to fully put into words. A multitude of awareness replacing muddied thoughts. I want everyone to be able to recall this love- it’s the essence of absolutely everything and everyone. I just feel like it’s hard for some people to understand, even though it’s inside of them too. It might take a very long time to find someone who’s going to do their best to try to spread that love on Earth with me. It’s one of my life goals to help others experience it, and I need a long-term partner to share that goal with me

Someone attempted to flirt with me tonight by saying I looked like Elisabeth Moss. It was very sweet and I thanked him, but I really don’t see it much. I wasn’t into him and that was the only time we spoke, but I almost wished I could say something thanking him further for being brave

I was the only one who went nuts when the DJ played Guess ft Billie Eilish tonight. London- you need to get your shit together! Charli XCX is your national treasure!!

Someone also accurately guessed my age range for once. It is a sign that my lack of sleep over the past week has been adding up. Time to get some beauty rest so I can look hot for my future situationships when I am a gazillionaire globetrotting author

Love,

J

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Don't be a Strip Tease

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 923

Summary: Dieter decides to treat you to a little strip tease which leads to unexpected results. It’s another dancing one!

Warnings: swearing, Dieter being an adorable chaotic mess, sore skin, a bit of a history lesson

Check out masterlist here

The bachelorette party, the hen party; that infamous female equivalent of the stag party. Originally, it was just a social gathering of women, usually over tea. Eleanor Roosevelt held a Christmas hens party for cabinet wives in the 1940s. It only became the raucous shindig it is today in 1970s as the sexual revolution happened in the previous decade. Made to be one final parade of freedom before relinquishing a working life for one of domesticity. The most typical parties involve copious amounts of alcohol and debauchery, the first reported male stripper at a party was fined in 1976 for acting in a lewd, obscene, and disgusting manner.

It was for all these reasons that you were avoiding the typical party, and you were telling Dieter as such.

“I think we’re just going to do an escape room or something.”

“So, you’re not going to a strip club? Because I’d be totally fine if you did.”

“There’s no point really. Unless it’s a mixed gender club, Nora and Mei won’t be interested. And I don’t want some strange man I don’t know taking his clothes off in front of me, it’ll be too…ugh!” you shuddered at the thought of it.

“Good point.”

“Would you have your bachelor party at a strip club?”

He wrapped an arm around you, “I’m not having one because I don’t have friends and the only person I like seeing naked it you.”

You leaned into him in sympathy, “You have friends.”

“I have co-workers and people who I see more than once, but they’re not really friends.”

“What about Adrién?”

“Adrién is my assistant, they don’t count.”

“I’m your friend.”

He lovingly cupped your cheek, “Oh, you’re my everything.”

*****

You were summoned into the bedroom after you got back from work one evening. The only information your fiancé disclosed was to sit on the chaise lounge and to await a sensual surprise. The music started as soon as you sat down and Dieter emerged from the bathroom, struck a pose, and sauntered over to you.

“Hey, honey cakes,” he almost purred the words out.

“Hi,” you squeaked out, terrified of what he had planned for tonight.

“I’m wearing your favourite plaid shirt.”

“You are.”

“And since you’re not going to a strip club, I’ll bring the strip club to you,” he was running his hands over the favourite plaid shirt, playing with the buttons.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, too late, one button is already undone. Guess I’ll have to undo the rest.” He then slowly unbuttoned his shirt while swaying his hips. Turning around, he twerked his little butt while taking his shirt off. Twirling the shirt around he twirled himself back around and threw the shirt at you.

It’s a common rule that those who try too hard to be cool or sexy will end up looking more awkward than anything. Dieter was cute enough to just get away with it but you were still tempted to bury your face in the shirt just thrown to you out of sheer embarrassment.

He now put his hands on the waistband of his pants, “You’re going to enjoy this,” he rolled his hips and gave his pants a tug, “Ow,” he gave another tug, “Ow, oh fuck!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t find any stripper pants so I cut up a regular pair and taped it to myself.”

“You did not-tell me you didn’t cut up your nice pair?”

“No, it’s just a cheap pair.”

“When you said you taped them to yourself?”

He was looking a little timid, “I did that double sided thing; one side to the pants and one side on me. Now that I think about it, it probably wasn’t the best idea.”

The nod you gave was one of agreement to the chaos that just happened. You proceeded to help him attempt to get out of the mess he literally taped himself into. The best method was to remove the pants from the tape before trying to remove the tape from the skin.

“Dieter, are you wearing a thong?”

“I thought it would be sexy. It’s actually really uncomfortable, there’s no support whatsoever.”

You left him to soak in the tub to loosen the adhesive, which gave you time to change out of your work clothes. The next 45 minutes were spent with Dieter lying face down on the bed while you slowly removed the tape from his legs. He did put his shirt back on so he wouldn’t feel completely exposed in his thong.

“You used a lot of tape.”

“I needed to make sure it would stay in place,” he mumbled from his pillow.

*****

Finally, he was free from the dreaded tape. He changed into his more comfortable boxers and lay back on the bed in a sombre mood. He was sadly looking at a few dollar notes he was holding in his hands.

“Aw, you really went out for the stripper theme,” you put a hand on his. “I really appreciate the gesture, but you really shouldn’t try to be sexy,” you quickly added in, “Because you’re naturally sexy.”

“I am?”

“You just lying there in your boxers and wearing my favourite plaid shirt, it’s very sexy.”

“It is?” he perked up and handed you one of the dollar bills. You took it a placed it in the waistband of his boxers. This made him smile and he gave his hips a little wiggle.

“Yeah, I’m sexy!” but he stopped and took it out, “No, that itches.”

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @brilliantopposite187

[rhythmantics]

Do you think Xander, Alex or Dana enjoy desserts? If so what do you think they like/don’t like? Also what hobbies do you think Xander and Dana have outside their jobs? Sorry I love the smallest and most frivolous of details about characters I love to think about the kinds of things they enjoy it’s fun to me

Dessert:

Xander: Hates sweets. He eats 99% cocoa powder dark chocolate and it is NOT fair trade. Fuels up on sugar only as needed to reach carbohydrate goals. Would not turn down dessert in a social setting, but would rather order a second appetizer or entree in private.

Dana: Likes sweets a normal amount. Would prefer pizza over cake. Eats 80% cocoa powder dark chocolate and it IS fair trade.

Alex: Can and will eat pure sugar straight out of the bag. Even in his lowest-energy form, he has a massive caloric requirement, so he packs away anything high in fat, carbs, and protein. Pretty much a garbage disposal.

Hobbies:

Xander: He has kept his hobbies secret, even from his siblings. Why he feels the need to do this is a mystery even to him. He's a workaholic, so he doesn't take MUCH time off work, and Dana knows he likes to get up at ass o'clock AM and go work out, nearly every day. If you ask Dana, she mentions that he likes hard rock, grunge, punk-type music, and likes to watch horror movies. These aren't really hobbies so much as sometimes he can't be working out or regular working, and he needs something to pass the time. Since she can't be assed to wake up in time to go work out with him, she doesn't know that he practices parkour/gymnastics as part of his workout stuff. This is less "fun" to him and more a way to expunge the murderous energy that builds up in his body so that he doesn't flip out on his coworkers/subordinates. If he couldn't regularly slam his body against concrete and brick walls, he would probably start actively physically harming people. Karen noticed the random injuries he'd sustain and he'd pretend it was from doing kickboxing instead. Problem with martial arts is they're not solo sports and workout time is alone time for him. This is also why he hates going to gyms despite holding a membership. To practice, he has several favored quiet, run-down alleyways where no one else goes. I hope the impression you walk away with is that he is in serious need of therapy.

Dana: Mostly concerned with making ends meet while juggling college and work, Dana also spent a lot of her time just working. Both Mercer siblings are very driven and goal-oriented people. Had she the free time and money, she'd probably be a party girl. Clubbing, recreational drugs, dancing. Xander hammered safety into her head from a super early age, and they have their mom to look to as an example, so she wouldn't wind up in heavy drugs (or even heavy drinking - she's not a straight-edge like Xander is, but she's not a huge fan of alcohol. Weed is her drug of choice) or crazy flings. She just likes the dancing, the music, the people. She'd be into all kinds of weird, on-the-street art stuff - indie concerts, pop-up galleries, flea markets. She'd probably get into owning snakes or bugs, something low-maintenance and kind of creepy. The woman-about-town, always trying new things, going to new places, making new friends, (hustling them out of money), rinse, repeat.

Alex: He likes to run really fast in self-imposed obstacle courses and try to beat his best time. Or climb up somewhere really high and try to land within 5 meters of a round landmark.

[uncloseted]

How do I make friends/relationships as a plus size girl in a small ish college town? I'm 24 and I graduated in december, but I feel like whenever I go anywhere on campus I'm too old for everyone there. I just lost my best girl friend and don't know what to do or where to find friends or even a romantic relationship. I see biker guys and sometimes they wave at me and that's the closest I get lol! I just want to develop friendships/relationships but I feel like my weight holds me back and being in a small town doesn't help... I have no idea where to start because whenever I go to book stores in town they're all empty. Where do people in their mid-twenties even hang out anymore???

I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse, but I’m straight size and live in LA and I’ve been having the same problem. I think making new friends after graduating college is difficult at the best of times, and it’s even harder post-pandemic where people are feeling a little socially awkward and a lot of “third space” kind of activities have gone online-only.

If your college has a graduate school, you could try hanging around there or even sitting in on some of the classes if you have time. I was 23 when I started my grad program and I was the youngest person in my department by far. The average grad student is 33 (at least in the US), so you definitely won’t be too old. If your school has alumni events, open lectures on campus, or other events, those are pretty good places to meet people as well.

I would also look into joining clubs, classes, activities, teams, organisations, and anything else where you have a group of people that meet on a regular basis. Since you’re in a college town, there are probably at least a few of these. Maybe there’s a book club or rock climbing gym or a volunteer group or a pottery class or a Meetup group or something. It doesn’t really matter what the activity is just as long as the same people show up to it on a regular basis. The more you’re around the same people, the more likely it is that they’ll become familiar to you and you’ll start chatting.

On a similar note, if you start hanging out at the same coffee shop or bar, especially if you go at the same time every day, you’ll meet other people who are regulars. I have an aunt who’s been having breakfast with the same six friends every day for like thirty years just because they were regulars at the same cafe.

Other than that, apps are probably your best bet. Dating apps are an easy way to meet lots of people, and even if it doesn’t work out romantically, you might get a friend out of it. The friend apps are a little more hit or miss, but they’re also worth a shot, especially in a place like a college town where people are constantly moving there and then moving away.

The last thing I’ll say is that you really only need to make one friend organically. If you meet one person, then they’ll introduce you to their friends, and those friends will introduce you to their friends, and eventually you end up with a whole network of people that you know but that you didn’t have to seek out.