#oreo was always rather...

[crysdrawsthings]

Two new bits of Oreo lore for today

- The whole Absolute scheme have started from the drunken remark of her's during her culty days that "wouldn't it be fucked up if we had a pet Elder Brain? Uh?", it was immediately followed by Bhaal's Silliest Clown faceplanting into her bowl of crisps and starting to snore. Ever enthusiastic Gortash still figured that the world domination plan can be made from this still.

- Orin, being the loving sibling she is, mercilessly bullied Oreo for whatever it was with her interest in tentacles. It naturally only gets worse post-game for a very obvious reason.

[the-kneesbees]

my mother loves to take any opportunity she can get to make me feel bad about our financial situation

[avis-writeshq]

hi ! love ur fics <3

can i request reader as being a massive flirt publicly towards spencer but when its Intimate and Private, reader is suddenly Stunned and Speechless and Blushing and spencer kinda gets the confidence to Do Stuff

im sorry if that was the stupidest described ask ever achh but lov u !

pairing: s9!spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, bombshell-ish(?) reader, fluff warnings: 16+ for kind of suggestive? he’s so in love UGH a/n: thank you for requesting !! wc: 1.22k

Spencer thinks that you are the most beautiful person in the world. He thinks that you’re glowing every time you walk into the room– no matter how upset or disgruntled you may be– and as cliche as it may seem, he’s certain that swarms butterflies fill his stomach and cloud his mind. In fact, he thinks that you have always had that effect on him, ever since he’s met you. You’re touchy, and despite Spencer’s general aversion to physical touch, he finds that he doesn’t mind your germs much. 

Very often he finds himself at your mercy, with the way your fingers brush against his face as if it’s nothing, as if that movement alone was something that you do with everyone (you’ve only ever done it with him). There are other instances where you’ve been very blatant in your attraction towards him, so much so that he ends up with his cheeks hot more often than not. A part of him is grateful that though you work in the FBI, it isn’t his division. He doubts he’d be able to see the end of it.

“Spencer,” you gush, curling your fingers into the ends of his hair. Or rather, lack of hair. “You got a haircut. You’re supposed to consult me first, you know.”

He laughs, looking up at you as you stand over him while he sits at his desk. “Is that what a good boyfriend is supposed to do?”

“Yes.” You speak with mock indignation, properly running your fingers through his hair from his fringe to the back of his head. “It’s so short.”

“Do you hate it?” There’s a momentary pang of unease that strikes at his heart. “Maybe I should have consulted you.”

“No, baby, it looks really good.” You smile at him, pressing a kiss to his hairline. “You’re warm. Do you have a fever?”

Of course I’m warm, Spencer wants to say while you continue to dote on him, your hands travelling to his collar next and brushing against his throat. You’re touching me in the middle of the bullpen. 

He opts to not say anything when he sees your knowing smile. You’re doing this on purpose. He clicks his tongue, squeezing at your waist lightly as you lean over him to kiss his forehead. He’ll let you win this battle; he’s going to get you back.

***

He doesn’t really know how to get you back. There are a few harmless things he’d thought of doing: sneaking into your department and hiding your mug on the top shelf (he fears that you’d ask someone, a taller more handsome someone, to rescue it for you), not wearing the tie you picked out for him that morning (he can already envision your disappointed frown and his chest aches at the imaginary you getting upset because of him), and putting toothpaste in your Oreos (he doesn’t want to die). 

All of these ideas go down the drain and he ends up not getting back at you for days. It doesn’t help that he’s been gone for a case while you’ve been stuck at home. It isn’t all bad, and a part of him wishes that he can hold himself to the same level of confidence as Derek when Penelope calls him with flirtatious motives. You do virtually the same thing. 

Your words are honey as you shower him with compliments, ending him with a simple “Hey, gorgeous.” 

It is enough to make his heart leap to his throat and his cheeks to warm to a pretty pink. There’s not much overlap between the Human Resources Branch and the BAU, especially considering that you assist more on the training and hiring side of things, so there aren’t many opportunities for you to fluster him when he’s out of the office. He finds that you always make an excuse.

“Hi,” he responds softly, avoiding the teasing gazes of Emily and Derek. “Is… are you okay?”

“Do I need to not be okay to talk to my lovely boyfriend?” 

You’re teasing him, poking fun at the way he so easily surrenders to you. He resists the urge to run out the room. 

“Stop,” he warns half-heartedly. He says your name quietly, tapping his fingers at the edge of the table. “Is there something you needed?”

He can practically hear you smile as you respond, the sound of your mouse clicking in the background. “Oh, yeah. My computer says that my storage is full. What do I do?”

“Your storage is full,” he repeats, smiling. “That’s why you called me?”

“It’s lunchtime in Santa Monica, right?”

He relents, cheeks hurting from how hot and stretched out they are. “Yes.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

He puffs out a breath of air, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re lovely.” He can imagine you batting your eyes, your smile saccharine. “Don’t you wish that you were here, gorgeous?”

He’s definitely going to get you back.

*** 

Spencer goes to your apartment once the case ends, his eyes dreary with sleep and the horrors that he saw only a few hours prior. Your apartment key hangs next to his on his keychain– a limited edition Tardis charm that you got him for his birthday. He huffs out a breath, unlocking your door and stepping inside. He’s met with you dancing around in your kitchen, headphones on whilst holding a wooden spoon. A part of him is concerned with how easily he could slip into your home without being notice, but the other part can’t help but smile at how carefree you look, and he leans against the wall to stare. 

He doesn’t get the opportunity to stare for long. It’s comical, the way you jump upon seeing him, eyes wide as you rip your headphones off. 

“You’re back! You scared me.” A smile stretches across your lips while you press your palm to your chest whilst taking steps towards him. “Don’t do that ever again.”

Spencer laughs, toeing his shoes off and resting his hands on your waist. His head dips down to meet your gaze, peering up at you with a soft smile. “You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks glow warm and you break eye contact. “Yeah?”

“Mm.” He hooks his pointer finger under your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I missed you.”

He notes the way you don’t respond, in some sort of daze while your lips part in both surprise and flusteredness. He understands your sentiments– it isn’t often that he initiates affection. 

“Did you miss me, too?” Spencer asks softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks. 

“Of course I did,” you croak out, heat building in your head. 

Spencer chuckles, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s doing this on purpose, flustering you to the point of no return. He kisses you again, one hand holding the base of your head while the other squeezes at the flesh of your waist. It’s dizzying, the taste of coffee on his tongue and the feel of his fingers in your hair. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs once he’s pulled away. His thumb rubs a line from the back of your ear to where your jawline starts, and he can’t help but chuckle. “Where did that confidence go, hm?”

reblogs are always appreciated!

[wonderjanga]

Marvel’s Mind

When J’onn first met Captain Marvel, the man distinctly reminded him of the sun. They’d met a battle against some extremely tough aliens. Soon, after the Justice League was formed with the both of them being founding members. The Captain was an eccentric yet wise person, always willing to lend a helping hand to others. Safe to say, J’onn had a favorable impression of the man.

So, this happened early during the days of the Justice League, when J’onn was still getting used to the fact humans like their privacy. It was an accident, he swears. It’s just that Marvel thinks really intensely.

Marvel and Martian Manhunter(MM): *meeting for the first time*

Marvel: *shakes hand with J’onn with a big smile*”Its nice to meet you Mr. Martian Manhunter.”

MM: *about to speak but is then flashbanged by the memory of Marvel meeting another Martian*

Marvel: *is called over by another hero* “It was nice meeting you, Mister!” *flies over to talk to said hero*

So yeah, that was their first interaction. Then there was the second something like this happened.

Marvel: *making a sandwich, spreading peanut butter on one of the slices with a butter knife*

MM: *floats by eating Oreos and is flashbanged by the memory of someone being tortured*

Yeah… Billy hasn’t realized J’onn has seen these memories. They aren’t even his memories. The previous champions really went through it. He feels bad for them. As for J’onn? He’s wondering if the sunny Cap is doing alright.

MM: “Captain?”

Marvel: “Yeah?”

MM: “Are you perhaps doing alright?” *saw another traumatic memory*

Marvel: “Of course? What would make you think I’m not?”

MM: “Well, every now and then I’ll see a rather disturbing memory from your mind. The other week I saw something rather grotesque when you and Aquaman were assigned to work together on a mission.”

Marvel: “Wait, you’re seeing…? Huh. Well, don’t worry about it, J’onn! It’s all in the past.”

MM: “Are you sure? Memories like that, I don’t believe you can just bury them.”

Marvel: “I’m not burying them. Not exactly. Look, I was just a different person back then. I’m better now. Promise.” *bright ahh smile*

J’onn is just happy Cap didn’t seem angry at him for looking at his memories.

So in summary, the two’s early interactions were basically Martian Manhunter seeing either a super traumatic memory or a super weird one, and on account of ‘I ain’t a snitch’ he won’t be snitch.

There was also the one time, MM and the JL went into Marvel’s mind and were met with the weirdest mind bending adventure. Half his memories don’t make sense for gods sake. At one point went he was twelve, he was a slave in a foreign kingdom and then at another point he was royalty? He’s been both a general and a bandit? How many lives has he lived??? Why do all of them start up from when he’s a child? Isn’t he supposed to be a demigod? There’s also like six different people yelling at them to get banned so there’s that too?

[vanmarkus]

I know we all love the idea of Eddie keep flirting with Steve and calling him pet names, because he thinks he can get away with it.

But I've been thinking about Steve casually calling Eddie baby without even registering what he's doing.

Like they are standing outside the van with the hood open and Steve just tutting at him like "Eddie, baby, you really gotta get your transmission checked, this is like the third time this month" and Eddie's losing his shit, mouth hanging open in shock, but Steve has no idea and it just keeps on happening after that.

Next time it happens, they are all over at Steve's, having a movie night and Steve has El and Max passed out on him, making him unable to get up from the couch without waking them and he just whisper-yells to Eddie "Hey babe, could you pass me a beer? Kinda tied up here" and Eddie just blanks and says nothing, but gets a bottle from the sixpack on the floor and Steve says "thanks" like it's just how things have always been between them.

And Eddie's working himself into a frenzy. Has Steve got no idea about what he's doing to him? Because Eddie's been lowkey crushing on Steve since he got mixed up in the whole Upside Down business and it just got worse when he woke up at the hospital to Steve holding his hand and giving him the brightests of smiles that there was, rubbing his thumb over Eddie's knuckles, whispering a soft "Hey there sleeping beauty, how're ya feeling?" while being completely oblivious to the suspicious look Wayne was giving them. And sure, hanging out with him nearly every day didn't help the situation one bit.

But this. This is going to be the death of him.

And it just keeps on happening. Steve murmurs "goodnight baby" into the phone before hanging up, he shouts "babe, come here, you gotta see this" when Lucas ends up stuffing fifteen oreos into his mouth (which is a new personal record) and whispers "hey baby, I'm sorry, I know you'd rather do something else, but I promised Mrs Wheeler" when they're watching Holly's ballet recital, waving at her from their seats when her eyes land on them.

It all comes to a head when Eddie's stupid van breaks down in the middle of fucking nowhere, on their way back from Indianapolis, after going there to buy a special boardgame for Dustin's birthday.

There's not a single car or house to be seen anywhere in a ten mile radius.

"Oh this is just great," Steve hisses as he jumps out of the car to walk around and Eddie does the same. He pops the hood and watches as a small cloud of smoke slithers out of it.

"Shit" Eddie swears under his breath. It looks bad.

"See baby, that's exactly why I told you to get it checked! Because I didn't wanna get stuck in fucking no man's land!"

"Look, I'm sure if we just leave it to rest a little..."

"Rest? Eds, come on, you know that's not how it works. We gotta walk up to the next gas stop and phone someone to tow it."

"Fuck, fine!" Eddie grunted. "But it gets dark in like twenty minutes."

They both know that they can't handle walking out in the wild after dark. Not after everything and not with all the nightmares that still tormented them most nights.

"Then I guess we're sleeping out here tonight." Steve says, dropping his hands on his hips. "You have pillows or some shit in the back?"

"Got a couple of blankets, yeah."

In the end they lay down two blankets on the bottom of the van and bundle up some old jumpers Eddie keeps in there for pillows. They lie there, facing each other in the dark.

"Hey... I'm sorry about all this" Eddie whispers, like his voice could disturb anyone out here in the middle of nowhere.

"It's okay, I just wish you'd pay more attention to stuff like this. I mean shit, babe, what if it's just you out here, huh? What then?"

"Steve-"

"I mean, I just hate to think about how shitty it would be, to be out here alone, in the dark... plus I'd worry myself sick not knowing where you are, you know?"

"Steve."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not alone."

"No, no you're not alone" Steve agrees with a private little smile.

They settle into a companionable silence and Eddie's almost certain that Steve is just about to drift off, but he can't contain it in himself any longer; he has to ask.

"Hey Steve?"

"Mmh?"

"Why uh... why are you keep calling me...?" He can't bring himself to say it out loud without his face heating up.

"What?"

"Names." He settles, hoping that Steve would get it.

"Names?"

He's gonna make him say it, isn't he?

"Yeah like uh... baby."

"Oh"

Even in the darkness of the van Eddie can see how the colour darkens in Steve's cheeks.

"Does it bother you?" Steve asks after a beat and Eddie just sighs out a soft "no".

"Okay."

For a long moment it seems that this is all Eddie's gonna get, but then Steve shuffles a little closer and runs a finger along Eddie's palm before taking his hand into his own.

"It just felt right, you know? Calling you that. I dunno, it was like how it was meant to be."

"That sounds kinda romantic, isn't it?" Eddie's shooting for a joke, but Steve just sighs timidly.

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

"Steve-"

"Eddie... can I?" He doesn't finish it, but Eddie knows he'd say yes to pretty much anything Steve could ever ask from him.

"Yeah" He breathes with a little nod and Steve scoots even closer, placing his other hand onto Eddie's cheek. He leans in and looks him in the eyes for an impossibly long moment, making sure he's got permission one last time.

Steve whispers a soft "baby" onto his lips before finally closing the gap between them.

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab, reader and katsuki are dating, everyone is 19+, orgy shenanigans, raw sex (reader is on birth control its okay guys), double penetration, creampies, oral (m. receiving), cum swallowing, handjobs, idk what else GENRE: nasty disgusting smut SUMMARY: your boyfriend asks what you want for your birthday, and your answer certainly surprises him. WORD COUNT: 957 🦊’s A/N: happy 20th birthday to meeee :3 this was a bitch to write btw its literally just some bullshit i cooked up i am so tired i literally gave up on this im So Sorry guys please have mercy // i actually wrote day 22 before this one lmao

     “mmfh!”

     “shhh, easy pretty,” eijirou coos down at you, cupping your flushed face with one hand, his cock stuffed down your throat.

     currently, you were jerking off denki, trying not to choke around eijirou, with shouto fucking your cunt, and katsuki buried in your ass. to say you were stuffed full would be an understatement. 

     “nngh—” your pussy flutters around shouto’s girthy length, and he groans beneath you. 

     “shit, honey—you’re so fucking tight—” he moans, hips rolling up into your drenched cunt. his words paired with katsuki’s relentless pounding and eijirou’s dick in your mouth had you drooling like a bitch as you try to jerk poor denki off, tears welling up in your eyes from the overwhelming sensations. 

     “nngh–! mmnngh,” you moan, one hand coming to tug at your boyfriend’s spiky hair, an action that has the blond growling and smacking your ass harshly, quirk popping off as his calloused palm makes contact with your tender flesh.

     you squeal at the impact, and it takes every ounce of self restraint kirishima has to not start fucking your face at your wide and teary eyed expression, and you accidentally grip kaminari’s dick a little too tight for comfort, making him moan in a masochistic manner, all while both your cunt and asshole clench around the dicks inside them.

     when katsuki had asked you what you had wanted for your twentieth birthday, the very last thing he had been expecting was for you to shyly, but with an unwavering sort of confidence, request a fucking orgy with some of his friends! you immediately followed up and explained that it wasn’t that you were bored in your relationship with him, but rather that you had always found them to be attractive, too, and you wouldn’t mind getting fucked by them just once. it took him a couple days to mull over the answer, and he ultimately decides sure. fuck it, as long as this wouldn’t ever happen again, right? 

    so, he found himself agreeing to your request on the condition that this was strictly a one time thing, which you accepted of course, as you understood your boyfriend still had a bit of an inferiority complex he was trying to overcome, and the very last thing you wanted was him thinking you wanted one of his friends more than him.

    which is how you found yourself double stuffed like an oreo and then some.

    “mmhhhng—” 

     “you’re doin’ s’well for us, baby,” kaminari slurs out, one hand tangled in your hair, nearly touching kirishima’s, as he bites his bottom lip at the feeling of your hand pumping his slick dick. 

     everything is just too much, and it’s all you can do to mewl around eijirou’s painfully hard cock, the vibrations traveling up his spine as he groans and bucks his hips forward, almost until your nose is flush against his dark pubes (he doesn’t dye them, weirdos) and you’re having to focus on controlling your breathing so you don’t gag like a bitch.

     “yeah, they’re doin’ fuckin’ great,” katsuki adds, one large hand gripping your hip as the other reaches around to play with your neglected clit.

     katsuki..! goddamn him! you think as your body tenses and back arches deeper than you thought possible. 

     your jaw is starting to get sore as well as your arm, and you briefly wonder what on earth you had gotten yourself into before that thought is quickly pushed out of your mind at denki’s announcement that he was close—of course he was, his stamina wasn’t that great to begin with so you sorta figured he’d probably be the first to cum, but what you weren’t expecting was for shouto to bounce off what the dumber blonde had said and admit that he was close, too. 

     it made sense when you took a second to think about it—although he wasn’t lacking in stamina, shouto was still a virgin before all this! (he doesn’t know what exactly compelled him to agree, but here he was anyway, in the middle of an orgy.) so it was only natural that he’d cum fast. not that you took the time to consider a factor like that, though, as you yourself were being worked up towards your first orgasm of the night.

     eijirou as well, you’re quick to figure out, based on the way his cock is drooling and twitching in the back of your throat, and you do your best to swallow around him while looking up at him with glassy eyes. your expression has the redhead biting his fist and groaning into it as you stick your tongue out to lick press against the underside of his cock. 

     it’s not long before kirishima’s cumming down your throat with a loud cry, just as denki jizzes all over your hand—some of it even landing on your face and in your hair. shouto’s not far behind either until katsuki yells at him not to cum inside—something todoroki blatantly ignores due to just how snug your pussy was, squeezing around him like a goddamn vice. how the fuck did that explosive bastard seriously expect him to pull out?

     despite having cum already, kiri makes no efforts to pull out of your mouth—not until denki’s shoving him out of the way at least, claiming it was his turn next. 

     “wa—ahh! wait! i— i ne–need a second!” you cry as katsuki suddenly spanks your cunt, making you jolt at the impact and wail his name—providing kaminari with the perfect opportunity to shove his dick in your mouth. 

     “hhmng—!” you whine incoherently around the new dick invading your hot mouth, and a chill runs down your spine when you feel shouto cum inside you—holy shit. 

    it was going to be a long fuckin’ night….

return to KINKTOBER | CLASS 1-A M.LIST

[f0rlorn]

when he sees me → logan howlett

logan howlett (x-men) x female!reader

notes → in which jean and ororo set you up on a blind date with a wolverine. in honor of deadpool and wolverine throwing me back into my x-men phase full force, i nabbed this from my wattpad. fair warning, it was written in 2021.

i stick with real things, usually facts and figures. when information's in its place i minimize the guessing game. guess what? i don't like guessing games.

you had always been a logical person. opting to plan things out rather than diving right in, so when jean offered to set you up on a blind date, you were hesitant to say yes. you always needed to know when and where things would be going down, and most importantly who would be there with you. this blind date contradicted most, if not all of your morals.

or when i feel things before i know the feelings. how am i supposed to operate when i'm tossed around by fate? like on an unexpected date! with a stranger who might talk too fast. or ask me questions about myself before i've decided that he can ask me questions about myself. he might sit too close! or call the waiter by his first name. or eat oreos but eat the cookie before the cream! but what scares me the most... what scares my the most...

it was clear that you were anxious about this, you were waving your hands around like a maniac, ranting to jean about things that didn't even make sense. "y/n, could you stop moving? i really need to finish up on your hair." jean pleaded, struggling to style your hair. you sighed and slouched in your chair, fiddling your thumbs.

"...what if he hates me?"

what if when he sees me, what if he doesn't like it? what if he runs the other way and i can't hide from it? what happens then? if when he knows me, he's only disappointed? what if i give myself away to only get it given back? i couldn't live with that!

jean turned your chair around so that she could look you in the eyes. "you are a smart and talented girl, y/n. any guy would be lucky to have you. if logan can't see that than he's just stupid." her comment was reassuring. it calmed you down, yes. but you still couldn't stop the nervousness bubbling within you.

"now go get dressed, storm is in the other room picking out an outfit for you." you thanked her and walked out of the bathroom, into your bedroom, where storm was rummaging through a pile of laundry. she smiled and pulled out a blouse for you to wear. she turned towards you and tossed you the shirt.

"the rest is on the bed. i need to go grab one last thing from my room and then you'll be ready to go!" she cheered, excited for you. you had never been much for dating. the few folks you did bring back turned out to be a bunch of douche bags, or had been scared off by some of the other mutants. when jean proposed the idea to the team, they were even more excited than you.

  you pulled off the top you were wearing and threw it in the corner of your room. you took the blouse that ororo gave you and put it on. next you put on the skirt and tucked your shirt into it. storm returned from her room with the item she retrieved. it was a gorgeous necklace with a gold chain and a jewel hanging around it. storm clasped it around your neck. "jean, c'mere!" ororo called for jean to come and see the new and improved you.

  "you look absolutely stunning!" jean praised, her hands on her hips. "let's head on downstairs, we still got some time before we need to get you out the door." jean led the three of you into the kitchen, you starting pacing the room as they sat down at the kitchen island.

  "do i have to do this?" you whined, not at all prepared for what was soon to come.

"there's no point in backing out now! it took me almost an hour to get you ready, you will be going to this date." jean said.                           

"why did i agree to this? i'm perfectly fine here! i'm surrounded with the people i love, i have my dream job... i don't see why i need a new guy in my life. and if life taught me anything, it's that men are garbage." you reasoned, trying to find an excuse not to go.

so i'm just fine inside my shell-shaped mind! this way i get the best view. so that when he sees me, i want him too...

  you were deep in thought, making a list in your head of the pros and cons of going on this date. the truth is, you were actually quite lonely here, and your friends were starting to notice.

   don't you think you're bein' a little, i mean, just a tad-

  ororo started before you cut her off.

  i'm not defensive! i'm simply being cautious. i can't risk reckless dating due to my miscalculating. while a certain suitor stands in line. i've seen in movies, most made for television, you cannot be too careful when it comes to sharing your life. i could end up a miserable wife!

  jean and ororo both gave each other a look. you continued on about how he could be some sort of criminal of psychopath. jean sighed and looked at her watch.

  "y/n, we gotta get going" they got up and ushered you to the car. ororo and jean got in the front seat of ororo's car, and you sat in the back. the entire car ride was filled with you going on and on, with 'what if's' and 'could be's'. there wasn't a single moment where you weren't complaining. jean was starting to think that maybe this wasn't the best idea after all. when you finally arrived at your destination, the three of you got out of the car. they pointed in the direction of the infamous wolverine, pushing you his way. he leaned against his car, lighting a cigar. you walked up to him, a little intimidated.

  "you're logan, yea?" you asked shyly, not really knowing what to do or say.

  "that's me, i'm assuming that makes you y/n." he replied. you nodded awkwardly.

  "shall we head in then?" he asked, looking down at you with raised eyebrows.

"yes, yes we shall." you answered, smiling slightly.

[joyaphoria]

"it's 10:15 pm," sakusa groans, squinting his eyes at the outline of a figure making a poor attempt at crawling in through his bedroom window.

the best course of action would probably have been to jump out of bed and shove the intruder back out the window, but after the first few times it's happened, sakusa learned to simply accept that you're just never going to be normal.

he only rolls his eyes annoyingly when you get tangled up in your own limbs, leaving you to tumble onto the floor. "omi!" you exclaim as you quickly recover, kicking off your shoes as you throw yourself onto his bed. "i missed you soo much!"

"i was only away for a day," he sighs, biting his tongue before he could add 'clearly not long enough'.

"and still it felt like forever," you whine, sprawling out on his bed. "i was all alone at lunch, it was horrible."

sakusa doesn't bother to point out the fact that you could've eaten lunch with your other friends, because he knows how you feel about them already. 'you know how they are,' you'll say, disapointement clouding your usually cheerful eyes, 'you know what they say about me.'

and although sakusa has always been a straightforward realist, never one to beat around the bush, he'd rather keep his mouth shut than to bring up a topic that he knows would ruin your mood.

"did you eat?" he asks instead, leaning over to flick on the lamp on his bedside table, the tiny bulb lighting up the room.

you nod cheerfully, before pulling out a container of oreos from behind your back. "i brought these for us today, but when i couldn't find you i decided i would just bring them to you instead!"

he doesn't bother to tell you that he’s never liked oreos, the filling far too sweet for him to enjoy. he takes one anyways, carefully pulling apart the cookie and plopping the part without the filing into his mouth.

“no eating on my bed,” he scolds, watching as you freeze, two of the overly sugary treats already stuffed in your mouth. he absently shudders at the thought of micro sized cookie crumbs sprinkled under his sheets, too small to fish out, but just big enough to drive his sensory issues through the roof.

you nod apologetically and finish chewing the cookies in your mouth, placing the plastic container on his bedside table. then, you lie flat on your stomach, plop up your chin on your arms, and stare at him.

“what?” he bites out, pulling his bedsheets up higher to cover his chest, all of a sudden aware of the fact that he was only in his boxers.

you notice the subtle gesture however, and when your eyes quickly dart down to catch his bare shoulders, the corner of your mouth twitches up. 

“omi,” you purr, as your eyes narrow to slits and the smirk he’s unknowingly grown weak for appears.

“you’re absolutely insufferable,” he huffs, picking up one of his pillows and launches it at your head, though you dodge it with your arm.

you push yourself up on all fours, slowly crawling towards him with that same look in your eye, the one that knocks all the air out of kiyoomi’s lungs and leaves him shuddering. still, he refuses to back up or turn away as you reach him, leaning in closer until you’re practically sharing the same air as him.

his heart pounds rapidly as he wills himself to hold out, to keep a straight face even though you’re so, so close, your hands on either side of his hips, your knees between his legs, and your mouth, your mouth—

your eyes dart down to his lips. his eyes dart down to yours.

he shoves you off quickly, scoffing as he lays on his side and yanks the covers up to his neck. “time to go,” he dismisses you, ignoring the way you’re laughing as the heat creeps up his neck and, well, his crotch.

recovering from your fit of giggles, you move to lie on your side to face him, but he interrupts you before you can crawl under the sheets. “no outside clothes under my sheets,” he hisses, shuddering at the thought of all you dirt you would be dragging into his bed, especially considering you came in through his window.

you arch your eyebrow playfully, and just as he’s realizing what he said, you lift your arms and pull your hoodie over your head, revealing the thin — oh so thin — fabric of your tank top, and the fact that you aren’t wearing a bra. kiyoomi doesn’t notice he’s been staring until you pull off your sweatpants in one swift motion, revealing a hidden pair of boxers underneath.

oh my god.

if he was red earlier, he must’ve been a dark shade of purple by now. 

he turns onto his other side, taking in a deep, silent inhale. his best friend. you’re his best friend. “i said to go home,” he repeats, but his head is screaming, begging you to touch him, to hold him, to run your fingertips up and down his arm, to wrap your hand around his pulsing, aching d—

“i can’t,” you sigh, and kiyoomi curses the name of every single one of his ancestors watching over him when he feels your body press against him from behind, and he has to bite hard into his bottom lip to stop himself from groaning.

what the fuck. grow a fucking pair, kiyoomi.

“then go sleep on the side of the road,” he mutters, inhaling sharply when your hands snakes across his waist, the cool skin of your arm shocking the warmness of his chest.

“oh but you’d much rather me here, wouldn’t you?”

kiyoomi curses once again. in his head, of course. or was it out loud?

“don’t play games with me,” he warns, squeezing his eyes shut when your hand snakes dangerously low.

“but you’re just so much fun,” you coo against the tenderness of his neck, your hand tracing down the fine lines of his chest, down to his v-line, then thumbing at the waistband of his boxers.

“y/n,” he bites out. your hand slips under his boxers. his hips jerk.

in less than two seconds you’re pinned beneath him on his mattress as he hovers over you, chest heaving and a knee between your thighs.

“what’s this, omi?” you call out playfully, lifting your hand between your faces and you spread apart your fingers, the stickiness of a substance stretching along with it.

he’s going to hell.

he pushes his knee upwards, firmly, and you gasp, gripping onto his forearm and your hips jolt and you whimper.

his dick jumps in his boxers.

he watches as you try to subtly grind against his knee, desperate for any kind of friction, the sultry facade fallen.

this is going to be a long night.

[sweet-honey-tears]

⦿ Home/Lock Screen ⦿

What the BHNA boys lock/Home Screen look like?

Characters: Kiribaku, ShinKami, Dabi x GN!Reader

Hi everyone, back again! This concept wasnt requested but I got asked about a certain character combination -so yeah! I hope you like it( I won’t say who you are but I hope you enjoy it!😊) each character has a different Lock Screen/Home screen! I hope you enjoy! And as always, request are always welcomed! Bye~🤍

Kirishima + Bakugou

» Lock Screen «

Bakugou’s Lock Screen is back from UA. It's a picture of you sitting at your desk. You're tipping over in your chair. One of your hands in the air and the other trying to grab onto the desk. You have a leg leaving the chair like you're kicking a soccer ball. The other leg is trying to touch the ground again. You have this look of pure panic on your face. And in the corner, you can see the quick moment(a blurry flash) of Bakugou running over to help you. He looks almost angry like he’s about to yell ‘dumbass!’. Denki took the picture, trying to catch a photo of Kirishima with his concentration face on. But instead, it’s a picture of Kirishima, mi-yell, and a large arm reaching over his desk to try and stop you from tipping over. His eyes are wide.Katsuki smiles every time he sees it, it’s just so stupid and funny. It reminds him of both of you.

» Home Screen «

Bakugou’s Home Screen is a more recent photo. It’s of you and Kirishima. You have Bakugou's old skull shirt on, the faded material hanging off you. You lay against Kirishima's side, your head resting on his shoulder. Kiri’s arm is slung around you, his head slightly tilted back. You’re both fast asleep. And Bakugou is pretty sure he can see drool on Kirishima's chin. There’s a half eaten bowl of popcorn sandwiches between you two. And an All Might blanket covering you and Kirishima's lap. Balugou keeps it as his home screen because it’s more personal to him. Something he feels is sentimental- something he doesn’t want his fans to see by accident.

» Lock Screen «

Kirishima's Lock Screen is a picture of you and Bakougu cooking. You’re both standing side by side at the stove wearing aprons as you work. Yet Bakugou’s hand is in your back pocket, his thumb hanging out in case he needs his other hand. The photo only shows the back of your heads as the both of you do something so… domestic. But at that moment, you both kept shoving each other, talking about the latest villain. Trying to compete with each other on who could cut the most carrots.

» Home Screen «

Kirishima's Home Screen and pictures of you, himself, and Bakugou at a waterpark. Your body is sandwiched between theirs. Kirishima has one large arm wrapped around your waist and Bakugou has one wrapped around your shoulders. His fingers grazed Kirishima's broad shoulders. You have your hands resting on their lower backs. Both you and Kirishima are smiling, and Bakugou is grinning. His dimples showing up.

🔥 Dabi 🔥

» Lock Screen «

Toya’s Lock Screen is of you eating an Oreo. It was right after a rather shitty mission and you're just sitting at the bar, eating Oreos. You still have soot on your face, and small scratches, but here you are- at the bar eating cookies. You have it cracked in half, so one side is a cookie and the filling and the other is just a cookie. Your front teeth are sunk into the cream, and there are clear drag marks from you scooping the filling out with your teeth like a shovel. The best part of the photo is you’re flipping off the camera. You look angry and Dabi finds the scene fucking hilarious and adorable. Like a toddler, just eating cookies angrily. You're giving Dabi the worst side-eye he’s ever seen.

“You want some milk too”

“Shut up”

» Home Screen «

If you’re wondering, his Home Screen is a very old photo of his siblings he found in the paper. It’s personal. Hidden. You understand.

⚡️Denki + Shinso 💤

» Lock Screen «

Denki’s Lock Screen is little Eri dressed up as a pikachu. Yes, he has pretty much claimed her as his little sister.

» Home Screen «

Denki’s Home Screen is of You, Shinso, and himself at the last concert you went to. You’re on Shinso’s shoulders, an arm in the air yelling along with the lyrics. You have one of Denki’s chokers on and eyeliner that he drew on you. Your ripped band t-shirt is pulled upwards at your movement.

Shinso has a black band shirt on with his long-sleeve white and dark purple striped shirt underneath. It hugs his arms tight, leading to the loose second layer. His ringed fingers rest on your legs, ensuring you stay upright and safe. He has, his snake bites in ( he usually takes out due to work) and his black stud and off screen your hand is cupping his face right behind his ear. He’s smiling at the camera, while you're completely oblivious.

Denki’s holding his phone to catch the two of you and a section of himself. His lighting bolt and chain piercings are on full display to the camera. He’s smiling brightly, a little tipsy but extremely happy.

» Lock Screen «

Shinso Home Screen and Lock Screen is one picture split up. His Lock Screen is of you and Eri. Eri sitting crisscrossed in front of you as you do her hair. Twisting the blue-gray strands into a space bun. A brush, bobby pins, and red hair clips lay next to you. The both of you are laughing and looking off into the distance. Where in the cover of the screen, two hands are reaching out. The fingernails were painted vibrant pink. There are plastic rings on them, some from Eri’s old toy chest. One is a huge fake diamond and the other is a cheaply painted plastic cat face.

» Home Screen «

Shinso’s Home Screen is the rest of the photo. Denki is laying on his stomach, his sweet smile peeking out from over his shoulders. He’s wearing one of Eri's cat headbands, causing his golden hair to spike in all different directions. He has a temporary tattoo on his cheek, a yellow lightning bolt that Eri picked out for him. Shinso had one too. A black back on the top of his hand. One of the best parts about it is that it’s a Live Photo. When Shinso presses down on the Lock Screen, your shoulders move as you laugh and Eris' confused face breaks out a larder smile. Her hands clasped as her eyes close in laughter. The hands on the corner of the screen move as if showing off the rings on them.

When Shinso presses down on the Denki portion of the picture, Denki's mouth moves. The audio is of Denki speaking in a very sassy female voice. ‘How ya doing?’

[cerealboxlore]

Billy Batson related question, as always! How do you think the League would react to Black Adam knowing who the Captain is, especially when they don’t even know? (The relationship between Billy and Teth doesn’t matter, they could be allies or enemies).

Billy Batson related questions are my personal favorites!

The idea of the Justice League not knowing who Captain Marvel's secret identity is always makes me giggle :D it's the layer of mystery and unknown danger that presents itself behind not knowing who the Big Red Cheese is that keeps them on edge sometimes. They admire their friend, but sometimes they do wonder, are they his friend? What is he? An alien? A human? A monster beneath the disguise of a man? Three kobolds in a trenchcoat? Nobody knows... They do wish to get to know their friend better.

Normally, most league members have their secret identities kept, you know, a secret. With the exception that Batman knows, of course. However, even he remains stumped on this mystery. He doesn't enjoy not knowing who Captain Marvel is behind the boy scout smile he often shines, but Batman is determined to find out one day. There's almost some respect for how well the Captain manages to hide his identity and tracks.

Meanwhile, Billy is surprised he's lasted this long with a secret identity. He's working with a braincell, half an oreo cookie, and a dream.

I got sidetracked, ack! Okay, so the relationship (depending on which version of Captain Marvel and Black Adam you are familiar with) is almost always going to be personal. There's their shared relationship with the wizard Shazam, but the one I'm most familiar with and enjoy is Black Adam being the one to have killed Billy's parents. (Also, I appreciate you separating the identity of Black Adam and Teth!)

It would be absolutely amazing and gutwrenching to see Captain Marvel shake hands with a "reformed" Black Adam, possibly during a public setting with the JL in attendance, fully knowing the truth behind his parents murders and still going through with the painful decision to let him go unpunished.

For Billy, this hurts. On a deep level that scars his heart and soul for allowing his parents deaths to go unavenged. For the years of pain, he spent alone on the streets homeless and separated from his twin sister, none of it can be fully healed no matter how hard he tries to forget. Scars fade over time, but to Billy, time is eternity. This pain will follow him for eternity.

However, as Captain Marvel, he understands that there's more to the situation that he can't control, and fighting Black Adam would only make things worse. With the wisdom of Solomon, he knows he can't justify a fight against the ruler of a nation, no matter what. So he just smiles for the camera and shakes the hand of the man who orphaned him.

It is through holding Black Adam's hand that the thought passes through his mind: the hand he's holding right now was once stained with the blood of his parents.

Then, the heroes are given a moment of privacy to be around each other without the public's eyes or ears to interfere, and that's when **** hits the fan.

Captain Marvel is avoiding Black Adam, understandably, but when Black Adam loudly calls out his name among the other heroes, Billy can't help but feel rage boil inside his divine blood.

"William. I thought you knew better than to ignore others when they're trying to talk to you. Such rudeness, I am most glad your parents were not the ones to raise such behavior in you."

Whispers among the league ensues. Was that the Captain's name? Did Black Adam know Captain Marvel on a personal level rather than just a regular hero and nemesis level? Despite the eyes watching them, waiting and prepared to step in case of a fight, the Captain grits his teeth and, through miserable eyes of a broken man, chooses to smile.

"Yeah, they really were good people, Adam. I may not live up to their expectations, but I do live for them. Every day. I suppose I have you to thank for that."

"Your gratitude is most welcome, William. May one day come where you live for Mary and Frederick, as well. They would appreciate you honoring them."

Through a wicked smile, Black Adam chuckles, turning his back to take his leave back to Khandak. Leaving Captain Marvel still smiling all alone, his fists at his side curled with rage, drawing his own divine blood from the intensity of his own strength.

After that, the league would be in all rumors and whispers about Captain Marvel. From the past, they knew that Black Adam was fond of taunting the Captain with strange and mean words during their harrowing battles, but had it all been a personal dig at him all this time? Did Black Adam have a hand in accidentally giving Captain Marvel the motivation to become a hero?

Superheroes like Batman would immediately be looking into any information they learned from this and try to decipher what is the truth behind the Captain. Or should he say, "William," now having a name to the face of the hero of Fawcett. He would also be investigating Black Adam far more closely now, should the reformed man ever step out of line. If he heard right and Black Adam had indeed killed the Captain's parents, then he needed to keep an eye on Captain Marvel, too. In case of a breakdown or instability in emotions.

On the other hand, heroes like the Flash and Superman would take the time to visit the Captain in his city and check on him. They'd be concerned after seeing how pained Captain Marvel was. If a villain like Black Adam knew who the Captain was and specifically chose not to reveal his true identity to the public and just the Justice League, then perhaps there was more to it. Superman knew as well how painful it was to let a guilty man go free because he was deemed "reformed" in the eyes of the public (Lex Luthor, ew).

Overall, there would be a whole range of emotions after finding out Black Adam knows who Captain Marvel is. And I am here for it!

[s0uth3park]

Some of my random SP headcanons:

This is a long one.

Pt 2

Cartman just will never learn how to drive. Ever. He knows he has other people to ferry him around.

In a similar vein, when that time rolls around (teenhood), Kenny legally can’t drive but he can drive. He just doesn’t have a licence. This persists until much later in life when he can financially support himself.

Stan begged/bribed Cartman to not harass Red for being a daywalker to keep the peace in his and Wendy’s relationship.

Whenever Wendy and Cartman need to sit down to talk out some sort of dispute, they do it over a pack of Oreo’s. They call this Oreo Time.

Kenny and Cartman play GTA together a lot.

Heidi is part Jewish on her mother’s side.

Cartman’s natural eye colour is brown. He has blue eyes, now.

Cartman is short by the time he’s fully grown (probably because of his weight), and has naturally brown hair and blue eyes. Kenny is the opposite, with blond hair and blue eyes, and is naturally Cartman’s favourite.

Cartman’s coat is plain red flannel (it’s the closest thing to fuzzy felt we can get), Stan’s is canvas, Kyle’s is tarpoon cloth, and Kenny’s is synthetic material (it’s like that smooth thin material that makes a high pitched whirry noise when you scratch it?? Cannot find the specific name for the life of me).

Tweek and Butters are cousins. Either through both of their mothers or through Butters’ dad and Tweek’s mom. Let me know which one you prefer.

Craig and Cartman’s hats are from the same store / brand.

Cartman and Kyle wear opposite colours on opposite pieces of clothing (is this a headcanon or observation? Who knows, I just want to point it out). Kyle has a green hat, contrasting Cartman’s red coat. Cartman has a (primarily) blue hat, contrasting Kyle’s orange coat. Kyle’s original gold-yellow t-shirt also compliments Cartman’s blue t-shirt, and pairs with Cartman’s yellow puff, brim, and gloves.

Cartman sometimes hums the Dreidal song to himself. Rarely will he sing it.

Carol and Stuart put Kenny in a separate room to Kevin because they didn’t anticipate a third kid. When Karen came along, they didn’t bother to displace one of them, so just stuck her in with one of them (Kevin) at random.

Kenny carries the gene for red hair.

Either (or both) Laura and Thomas have brown eyes. This is why Craig has black hair. (Relying on a quick google search for this one).

If Stan looks a lot like Randy as he gets older, right down to the eyes, Shelley looks like Sharon, but with Randy’s eyes.

Stan sometimes feels like the outsider in the group because not only do the other three hold biological keepsakes of the others (Kenny’s eyes –> Cartman; Cartman’s kidney –> Kyle), Kyle and Kenny (K’s) both wear the same shade of orange, and all three are called by unvoiced guttural (“kuh”) vocatives. He’s just Stan. He and Kenny have the same last initial, though.

Out of all the moms, Mrs. Tweek has the biggest tits. I’m sorry I don’t make these rules.

She and Richard fuck like rabbits too I think

While there’s a massive gap between how Stan is viewed and how Cartman is viewed, but out of Stan’s Gang, Stan is held in the lowest esteem just after Cartman. Wendy and his looks boost his popularity a bit, but it’s still rather low.

Kenny is held in the highest esteem by the way, because people know he just joins the guys and doesn’t really instigate.

Craig has alexithymia.

Clyde picked up some mannerisms, like speaking with little affect, from Craig.

Clyde was a mommy’s boy, but Betsy was always rather eccentric and pedantic.

I’m not sold on this but I have thought about Betsy having PCOS.

Maybe I’m biased but I like to think that if Clyde outright said the words “I don’t like Janice and I don’t want her in this house” / “I’m not ready for a stepmom”, I think Roger would adhere. Probably just me being biased.

Sharon hates being filmed, and if she sees either a video or photo of her she will immediately pat her hair and say “oh look at my hair there” or touch her face and go “oh my, I look godawful in that”.

Cartman flexes his ability to eat bacon on Kyle a lot.

Craig has a fear of dressing Stripe up in costumes. Tweek has suggested it, but Craig shot it down immediately.

Wonder Tweek’s costume is from Craig’s closet, and the reason his is shit is because he was too busy helping Tweek’s with his because Tweek found organising his own costume too stressful.

Randy taught Kenny how to swim in Kyle’s backyard blow up paddling pool.

Cartman is a weak ass swimmer.

[endataraxia]

sage forest mental institution.

chapter 1: pilot word count: 2.5k note: yes this is a rewrite. i am sorry. also on AO3. here is the link.

Working in Wing F, evaluation and quarantine, allows for you to observe a whole slew of mental disorders. Some make sense to you, and would as well to the layman. Some simply do not, and the shit-grade doctors at Sage Fores are apparently as stupid as they seem and dropped the fuck to be given between the cracks of drainage.

Three new patients come in, along with a cold gust of wind.

The transport officer, Jeremy, offers you his greetings once again.

“’Sup, lil’ bro?” To him, gender is irrelevant, and so is age. You’re not even sure how much older he is than you, or if he is at all, but you’d gotten used to the term of affection long ago.

“Nothing much, Jeremy. Thanks for bringing them in. Need a snack?” You offer, knowing the man to have an endless pit for a stomach.

“Aw shit, you know I do.” So you toss him a pack of three Oreos. The only thing stronger than the man’s lactose intolerance is apparently his love for the cookies.

Four other officers—they have to be new, you’d never seen any of their faces before—bring the new patients to be evaluated into the building, distributing them into their cells.

One patient with light brown hair and baby blues, still in prisoner’s clothes, speaks up. “May I be placed next to him?” His hands, cuffed, weakly gesture to the bearded man next to him.

And with a sharp wham he’s beaten into the ground. Jeremy, still with Oreos in his mouth, is startled.

Something tugs at your gut.

“Who the fuck gave you the right to touch my patient?” You snap, not recognizing the volume and ferocity of your own voice.

The nameless officer, his face now burned into your mind’s eye, opens his mouth, only to stutter.

Jeremy’s hand shoots out between both of you and places his back to his subordinate. You vaguely register the third patient—the one with a shaggy brown mop of hair—help up the one who spoke.

“I’m sorry. He didn’t mean it,” defends Jeremy half-heartedly. You know this guy well enough to figure out that he’s just defending a newbie on the job.

“Not your fault, Jeremy,” you mutter. “But keep him on a leash or something. I don’t care if he beats other prisoners or something, but,” you step closer to look the new officer in the eye, his own orbs glazed over with a hint of fear and remorse, “remember that my job is hard enough as it is. I now have to treat a wound and whatever trauma that person suffered from you.”

The new officer gulps. “S-sorry.”

“Hm.” You keep your response curt so as to avoid any words that might let him think what he did was marginally okay.

You turn back to get a good look at your poor patient. “Sorry about that. What’s your name?” You always preferred asking your patients directly instead of referring to a document serving only to persecute them.

“Brian Thomas,” he croaks out, but not before his eyes flit to your nametag. “I’m fine, I was just caught off guard.”

“I’ll still have to send you to medical later,” you say apologetically. “Here, as an apology.” You pull another pack of Oreos out of your pocket.

The man smiles weakly at you, accepting the cookies. “Thank you.”

This batch of new patients seems to be rather well-behaved and rational, instead of the violent type you get most of the time. They are, after all, being sent to an asylum for the criminally insane.

---

After Jeremy and his subordinates are gone, you settle your patients in with the help of Andrea, a nurse from another wing. In this godforsaken asylum, you believe only her to have a good heart. She was the one who helped you get settled in with this job when you’d first entered 8 months ago.

And as Brian Thomas had wished, you placed him and his pal next to each other. You note that the three of them seem close, which might make your job easier. If you can’t coax something out of one of them, there are two others to try it on.

“It’s only two weeks, and if you’re lucky, maybe just one,” you had told the three men, who all provided you with no noteworthy reactions.

No meds were needed at this point in quarantine, unless the doctor determined that they were in need of it, which was usually in the later stages of quarantine, and usually signified their release into the main asylum.

Administrative work is a blur as always. All work in this gloomy building is to you, and every day is a dissociative fog to you until you get to visit your own patients in their rooms.

The first one you visit is the one whom Brian had requested to be put next to, and you did indeed place them in adjacent cells. His dossier carries the name “Timothy Wright”.

You knock on the door respectfully— a thing you do for your patients in hopes they don’t lose the sense that they’re still a person. This asylum is no cozy home, but if you don’t try to make it one for them, they’ll probably lose their minds.

No response comes from within the room. You take it as an absence of objection to your intrusion, and enter.

“Hey, man.” You include a deliberate casualness in your tone, hoping it’ll help set the man at ease.

The cell includes a simple bathroom cubicle in the corner, complete with a sink and a mirror right next to it. The floor is tiled and the bedframe crickety. On the rare occasion that a patient invites you to sit on the bed with them, you find that the mattress can barely be classified as decent.

Timothy sits on the bed, his attention now captured by you. “Hey.”

You allow a calculated amount of silence between you and him, allowing for him to speak his mind. He does.

“You still got some of those Oreos?” He asks.

This question is not unexpected. “Yeah.” And you toss him a packet from your coat’s pocket.

He catches it with ease. “You, uh…just keep those in your pocket?”

You can recall a patient or two who’s asked you that question before, so you take it as an opportunity to explain. “Sometimes we give these out to patients who’re well-behaved as a reward.” You pause, choosing your words carefully to balance both honesty and a sense of warmth. “But honestly I don’t like that we only give it as a reward. It’s like you’re dogs to be rewarded. Just don’t tell anyone else that I simply give out Oreos.”

You say this as if damn near half the asylum patients don’t already know you for your free Oreos, though they’re all bribed with a free Oreo pack pass to keep it a secret from the asylum. The rest of the staff, save for Andrea, just think you’re nice and happen to give the treats for every single good deed the patients carry out. Though, you’re still careful, lest a single glance at your wing’s stash of sundry Oreos betray you. So you make it a point to buy them from the convenience store outside your home with your own pay, and replenish the stock every day, making sure the stash seems untouched.

Timothy simply nods in understanding, opening the pack to pop a cookie into his mouth whole. Next up is something you don’t expect.

“Want one?” He holds the open pack to you.

“Uh.” Then you laugh. “Why not?” You make sure not to reject, placing yourself on the same level as him. That is to say, lacking a stash of Oreos. Pulling an Oreo out of the packet in his hand, you pop it into your mouth too.

“Thanks, man,” you say through a mouthful of Oreo. After you swallow, you ask his name.

“You can just call me Tim.” You note that even he prefers the shorter version of his name.

“Alright, Tim. If you ever need me, just call me. Okay?”

He provides a simple nod in response, then offers an “okay” in return.

You nod. Everything in his room is in order, and he seems to require no more than just that simple check-in.

The door closes.

---

The next to visit on your list is Brian, who sits on the bed, an ice pack pressed to his cheek with Andrea crouched by his side. She notices your presence, gets up and whispers to you.

“I’ll leave you to it, hun.” She knows you don’t like your patients surrounded by more than one nurse or doctor if necessary, so you thank her silently and turn to face your patient once your colleague is gone.

Brian’s swelling seems to already have gone down, with the darkness of the bruise already fading to a dark green. “You heal quite fast,” you remark.

Straightening up, you hold a hand out to him. “I’m Y/N, a nurse here.” He grabs your hand and shakes it firmly with a slight smile on the good side of his face. “I’m Brian Thomas.” You chuckle. “Yes, I have your dossier here,” you joke, albeit a lame, half-assed one.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” you begin. “Usually, those guys don’t touch my patients ‘cause they know what happens if they do—I’ll sock them right back— but it seems these ones were new. I’ll see what I can do about it, disciplinary actions or getting them barred from here or something.”

Brian smiles, letting out a huff of a laugh through his nose. “No need. I can see why they act like that. In prison…sometimes it’s necessary.” When that doesn’t seem to reassure you, he adds, “I’ve been through a lot worse. Trust me. It’s okay.”

You’re not reassured, not in the slightest bit. But years of experience with patients have taught you to go along with them. Forcing them in your own direction would do no good for either of you.

“If you say so,” is what your mouth and brain collectively settle on. “Doesn’t mean you should be treated like that, though. Any staff touches you, let me know.” You smile a little at the following thought, “Everyone knows not to touch the patients in my wing.”

That’s not to say you’re the head of the wing. You feel a little ick, even, at claiming that this is “your wing”. But seeing as patients leave the wing happy or even a little better than before, you think it’s fine.

“Are you three friends…?” You ask.

Brian replies. “Tim and I are. The third one, Toby, is new to, uh… us.”

Something tells you not to press it.

“Right then. That reminds me, I’ve gotta get around to Toby. Uh…,” You refer to the third one’s dossier. “Is calling him Toby okay, or should I be calling him Tobias?”

Brian’s eyes darken. “Don’t ever call him Tobias.”

So you enter Toby’s room, and make a mental note to never call him Tobias, because he could be dangerous if you do so.

---

I didn’t expect us to find the one so soon.

---

You enter Toby’s room and make a mental note to never call him Tobias, because he could be dangerous if you do so.

But it seems otherwise to you.

What sticks out to you, more of a concern than even his potentially murderous behavior upon being called his real name, is the bandage on his cheek. While Toby was indeed quiet at first, especially on your first visit, with small, retracted body language, knees pulled to his chin and short, quiet responses, he quickly warmed up.

After countless “yes, no, maybe, I don’t know”s, you insert an innocent, “You can call me any time for anything you need,” and his eyes light up. You think that perhaps he’s just lonely, and anticipate a lot of calls from him. 

And you’re right to do so, with him calling you for every little thing.

Every. Little. Thing.

“Y/N, I can’t tie the robe at the back…,” whines Toby as he half-heartedly reaches and grabs at the ribbon behind his back. 

“Okay,” you laugh, and reach out to tie it for him. And then, gently, he grasps your hand, perhaps to guide it to the ribbon. You’re not allowed to touch patients. But for him, for just this once, maybe you’ll let him. 

But he turns around to face you, brown eyes unreadable. 

“You really mean it, right? That I can call you for anything?”

You’re caught off guard by the whole thing. “Uh…,” You laugh nervously. “Yeah. Yes.” Before you’re about to blabber on in nervousness about why and how he should, he grins, eyes brightening a little.

“Great! I’ll see you later.”

He does, in fact, see you later.

To put it lightly, Toby calls you a lot. To put it bluntly, he calls you for a lot of stupid shit.

“Y/N,” he’d whine, dragging out the syllables of your name, “I’m bored!” So you give him a book. Then, you play a board game with him. Finally, you attempt to teach him biology, which a man his age should really not be marveling at, given the rudimentariness of the content you rattle off.

“Y/N,” he’d whine again, “I’m hungry!” And you’d tease, “You just had lunch, Toby.” 

“But I’m hungryyyyy!” He’d exclaim. “I get hungry easily. And I’m hungry now.”

You begrudgingly pull out a pack of Oreos from your pocket.

And now, it’s the 64th time, at the end of two weeks, and most likely the last time he’ll get to call on you like this. Though you’d usually begrudgingly heed his call and head over with a slight drag in your steps, you decide that today, now, you may as well entertain his silly little questions for the last time.

And so you knock on the door and enter upon his “Come in!”, bracing yourself for whatever nonsensical request he might make. 

A nonsensical request he makes indeed. “Y/N,” he mumbles, fidgeting with his hands. “Can you…uh… turn around for a moment?”

Never turn your back to a patient, not when they’re criminally insane. But today, now, your guard is down, and your brain somehow forgets that you might land yourself in danger.

You laugh, dismissing his silly request as “just a Toby thing”, and twirl around, only exposing your back for a moment. 

One second is all it takes. You only turn 180 degrees, barely a completion of your round.

You hit the floor with a thud.

note: sorry for all the page breaks. i promise it'll get better soon.

[whackk-kermitt]

We Weren't Together

Warning: Pack Mom Stiles(mostly Off screen), Derek is the Alpha, Everyone is Alive, Derek is Jelly, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Significant Background Character, Lydia is the best Meddler, Happy Ending Summary: Derek and Stiles are not a couple. Simple as that. Not really sure where I was going with this one. It might be total shit. Womp Womp. NOT PROOFREAD

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

"Cheater!"

"I didn't cheat!"

"You so did! How else would you have all that money when you own two properties!" Erica flung a shoe. All Stiles could do was laugh until his ribs ached.

"Okay," Lydia sighed setting her cards down and backing from the coffee table to lean against the arm of the couch. Allison looked on unimpressed, but only because she knew Stiles cheated.

"Oh come on," Scott groaned. "This is why I never play Monopoly."

"Who's Idea was this?" Isaac threw his cards down and looked around, a scowl due for the culprit.

"Yours." Lydia supplied with an unimpressed expression and a tilt of the head.

Derek sat back with a privet smile. It had been a while since he had gotten to work bringing the old Hale house back to a livable condition. And once the majority of it was done, the pack, without being asked, began coming over every Saturday to spend time all together. He'd see individuals pop in throughout the week, but he loved when they'd all be here together.

"No," Isaac defended. "I said we have, Clue, Uno, Scategories, and Monopoly. I never said I wanted to play this one."

"The way you said 'and Monopoly', made it sound like you did." Stiles offered with a look in his eye Derek couldn't place. "And who could say no to that adorable ridiculous scarf." He teased with kissy lips and a pinch to Isaac's cheek. Isaac swatted his hand away but his cheeks went red.

"If nobody wants to play I'd rather not waste my time." Boyd piped up, the first thing he's said since he reluctantly agreed to play this.

"Okay, we wanna do a different game or a movie?" Stiles offered starting to clean up the pieces into the box.

"Movie!" Erica cheered. "Who's turn is it to pick?"

Derek, who was already up and walking into the kitchen, stopped and checked the calendar on the wall. It was a calendar bought from the vet clinic with different dogs for every month, posing in costumes related to that month's holiday. You can guess who bought it.

Thinking of a name that rhymes with Biles Bilinski.

Who took the commitment to go through the calendar and alternate the pack's names on every Saturday, to mark their turn to choose. Since nobody could ever agree.

"Erica." Derek grinned with his back to the living room while Erica and Lydia cheered, while most of the boys groaned. Whenever it was either of them, they teamed up to find a movie literally only girls would like- according to Jackson. They've been made to watch The Notebook five times, The Princess Bride three times, and 10 Things I Hate About You four times.

Derek leaving the girls behind to settle on what to torture the boys with, he pulled bowls from the cabanit and a pot. Oiling the bottom of the pot, pour in corn kernels to coat the bottom. He covered the pot and let it heat up, turning to get butter from the fridge. But a hand was already on the fridge pulling it open.

Stiles always had a smile on his face when he was at the house, just as happy to be here with everyone as Derek was. Derek watched as Stiles took out the butter opened two sticks into a bowl from the dish rack and plopped it in the microwave. While the corn began popping Stiles and Derek danced around each other in the kitchen, working in perfect synchronicity to stock the large tray with canned drinks, bottles of water, and other various snacks.

Derek eyes all the sugary garbage on the try without making a sound. He had a sweet tooth sure, but he preferred actual baked goods, not the overly processed Debbie cakes and Oreo cookies they kept in the snack cabinet. Just as he was about to settle for just popcorn and water Stiles's hand came into view as he wordlessly put a bag of homemade cookies on the tray. Sharpie scrawled out 'sourwolf' with a smiley face on it.

Derek said nothing, watching Stiles turn and ready the three big bowls for the popcorn to be sorted into. Things like this made Derek feel like a very lucky man. Stiles never even thought about it, just did things like this. Not only for Derek but for the rest of the pack as well. Always taking one extra step to make sure everyone was happy.

Derek knew when Stiles was overthinking things; his nose would scrunch up, sometimes just the slightest bit, and he'd fidget a little more than usual. Derek knew what Stiles had to think before he did something, he never stopped to think about this stuff.

Stiles was a good friend, and Derek was happy he was pack.

After getting the popcorn buttered and evenly distributed they scooped everything up and brought it to the living room. Everyone was finding their seats on the two couches and the armchair, with a movie called Clueless qued up on Netflix.

Derek set the tray down, grabbed a water bottle and his cookies, and found his stop on the end of the couch he always takes. Stiles passed out the bowls of popcorn and settled in. Derek had gotten distracted watching Scott and Isaac fuss over who gets the last can of coke. He snorted dryly and turned to look at Stiles, who always and something to say about their childlike bickering.

Except when he turned to his left, it was the body that sat next to him. Boyd wasn't even paying attention to him. Huh, odd.

Derek looked over to the other couch where Stiles was squished in between Lydia and Erica who were explaining all the reasons Stiles was gonna love this movie. Stiles was smiling at the girls and chuckling, amused at how excited Erica was.

He was confused for a moment about why he assumed it would be Stiles sitting next to him. It didn't matter though, Stiles can sit anywhere, it's not like it matters.

He thought about it while everyone quieted down and the movie started.

Derek thought about all the previous times they settled in for movie night, and from what Derek recalled, Stiles sat by him every time. Derek thought about it for a moment and found himself amused.

If he told Stiles about it he knew what Stiles would say. Something about Pavlov, and Derek subconsciously thinking Stiles would always be next to him when they watched a movie because up until now he was.

But it didn't really matter where anyone sat, Derek convinced himself. He is just as happy sitting next to Boyd as he would be next to Stiles, or anyone else for that matter.

But as the movie went on, and Erica and Lydia both started leaning more onto Stiles, laughing at the funny parts and basically snuggling together, Derek decided he didn't like it.

Something in him became unsettled when by the second half of the movie Stiles started dozing off like he did almost every movie night, his head laying on Lydia's shoulder.

If Stiles were sitting over here, his head would fall onto Derek's shoulder like it always did. Stiles would wake up after the movie was over, everyone going home, and say something along the lines of 'good flick'. To which Derek would tease him for sleeping through most of it and use the drool on his shirt as evidence.

Derek didn't have a word to describe the feeling, didn't have the slightest clue as to what caused it, because it really didn't matter. The pack is pack, he was happy to see Stiles and everyone getting along so well, being so close, but it still bugged him.

After the movie was over, everyone did their share of cleaning up, said goodnight, and was out the door. Erica and Boyd being the last to go, as soon as the door was closed and locked, Derek sighed and his smile fell. This pit in his stomach only twisted more, when Stiles only gave him a one-word goodbye and offered Lydia a ride him.

"So," Isaac awkwardly swayed a little as Derek entered the kitchen. "Are you and Stiles fighting?"

"What?" Derek paused his stride through the room to stare at him.

"Well, tonight you guys," He studdered for a bit, the awkwardness he was feeling just asking very prevalent on his face. "Seemed off tonight. I don't know."

"No," Derek shook his head. "We're fine."

"Okay," Isaac clearly didn't believe him and bound up the stairs to his room.

Derek stood there for a moment and shook it off. He stuffed the feeling down like he did with almost anything unpleasant and went to bed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It was 11:43 pm. It was slightly rainy and cold out. Stars and the moon shone over the preserve, eliminating the front yard.

Derek stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter, watching out the window at the driveway. Sparing a glance at the clock every few minutes.

Isaac was late. Super late. Not answering his phone, not sending a single text.

He was about to give up waiting for something, anything when a familiar jeep rolled up the long dirt road and onto the gravel driveway.

"Man," He heard Isaac's faint voice from outside. "He's still up. I'm in deep shit."

Isaac followed with dragging feet as a very amused Stiles him and Scott up the front steps.

When they entered they kicked off their shoes and joined a very disappointed-looking Derek. He stood tall with his arms crossed over his chest. The three gathered in front of him awaiting hell to rain down, except Derek didn't fail to notice the subtle grin on Stile's face.

"You're late."

"Sorry, we lost track of time." Isaac pouted like a picked puppy.

"You have a phone."

"It died." He shrugged.

"Neither of you have phones?" Derek glared at the other two.

The three looked between themselves and gave each other the "why didn't we think of that" look.

Derek sighed pitifully, "If I ask you to be home by a reasonable hour I don't think that's too much to ask. Full moons right around the corner and-" He groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't worry me like this again, " He waved the topic away.

Issac nodded shamefully and muttered an apology. The fear of being reprimanded stayed firm in his eyes and stiff body. It almost made Derek feel guilty for being upset in the first place, but he knew he had every right to worry.

"It's fine." Derek shook his head. "I just need to know where you are or at least be able to get in touch with you if something happens. I was worried Isaac, I'm not mad."

Isaac nodded, taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders.

"How was the party?" Derek didn't care really, he just wanted Isaac to feel comfortable.

"Fun, the whole team was there. We got bored when everyone else was too drunk to even talk to so we bailed and got some food and Mami's Diner." Scott smiles recalling the evening.

"Yeah, parties aren't as fun when you can't get tipsy with everyone else."

"Too bad for you guys." Stiles sighed with a goofy grin. They all took their spots at the breakfast bar.

"You didn't drink a drop tonight though." Isaac pointed out.

"And trust one of you to drive my baby?" Stiles accused as if the two were actively planning a first-degree murder in front of him. They all merely chuckled at his dramatics and moved on from that.

"Derek," Scott started with a grimace. "Can I stay the night? Moms working a double and I don't wanna wake her getting home this late."

Derek shrugged, indifferent. He'd gotten the guestrooms ready from the rest of the back. Hell, any of them could show up wanting to spend the night, with no excuse or reason, and he'd be happy to have them. It's why the rooms are there.

"Me too!" Stiles piped up. "I have no reason, just too lazy to drive I guess."

Derek chuckled a little and welcomed them both to a guest room of their choosing.

Isaac excused himself to the bathroom to shower, as Derek led Scott and Stiles up the stairs. He showed off the finished rooms and let them pick and choose. Stiles picked the one next to his room, claiming dibs because the other room had a draft.

"How much work left is there?" Stiles asked mindlessly looking down the hall at the section of the house still covered in plastic to protect the new wood flooring. Tools, wood varnishes, and cans of paint sat out in the hall.

Derek motioned him down the hall as Scott, uninterested, entered the room on the other end and settled in for bed.

Stiles followed Derek into an unfinished bedroom and took a look around. Derek flicked on the lights he'd just wired and put in the other day. The drywall was fresh and the whole room was covered in plastic, tape guarding the fixings and crown molding. The room was nearly ready to be painted and furnished.

"Just need to fix the wiring to the other room, mount the shelving, and this window," Derek strolled over and giggled the latch. "Needs to be fixed or replaced at some point. It won't open."

Stiles nodded looking around and smiling to himself.

"Other than that, it's just fixing up the back porch and the half-bath downstairs." He turned to look at Stiles. "What?"

"Nothing," Stiles shrugged, smile never fading. "I'm just happy."

"About what?" Derek asked curiously approaching Stiles like he was about to get a pie in the face.

"I don't know. Just in a good mood tonight, I guess."

When Derek was close enough he stopped, twisting his head and pouting at a smell invading his nose. Stiles almost made a kicked puppy joke until he saw that something was defiantly bothering Derek.

"What is it?"

"You smell weird."

"Well, I was just at a party with about sixty or seventy drunk teenagers, so."

"No, it's," Derek stepped closer slowly, leaning in just enough into Stiles's personal space to not make him uncomfortable but close enough to get a good whiff of the insulting aroma. "You smell like-" Derek stopped and his face dropped a little, leaning back and eyeing a very confused Stiles.

"Never mind." He shook his head and turned the lights off as he walked out. "Goodnight, Stiles." He left Stiles standing there completely bewildered.

Derek locked himself up in his room and changed into sweats before climbing into bed. All with a deep frown dragging his features down.

Stiles smelled like arousal. Like sex. But it clearly wasn't Stiles's scent.

Stiles smelled like someone else's arousal.

Derek racked his barian all night who that prick could've been. Why was that prick all riled up and close enough to rub his lasting odor on him? Was Stiles dancing with someone at the party? Did Stiles make out with someone at the party?

At that question, his mind supplied him the images of Stiles bumping and grinding with some random dude, hands on Stiles's hips, moving and swaying with him. The creep Kissing up on Stiles's neck and lips and offering to go somewhere private.

Derek turned onto his side and shoved his head in under the pillow, hiding from the thoughts as he let himself be taken by sleep.

But that night all he dreamed about was chasing some faceless vermin through the woods; hunting him like he was nothing more than a feral wild wolf, despite still being completely human in the dream.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Danger came to Beacon Hills in the shape of Faeries.

Tiny winged spirits with a knack for trickery and mayhem. Derek wasn't sure how they ended up in Beacon Hills if they've just been migrating this way, or if someone let them loose. But people were getting hurt by their 'pranks' so they had to put a stop to it.

Tricking Faries was not an easy job in the slightest. But they managed it after a long night of chasing and fighting, finally trapping the three in silver cages and handing them over to Deaton; who swore he knew how to handle them and remove them from Beacon Hills safely.

The pack headed separate ways and most of them followed Derek back to the house. They arrived home just as the sun began to come up. Derek, still too anxious and worked up to sleep, went straight to work on the downstairs bathroom. He began preparing the grout to lay the tiles in place on the floor.

As he was checking the leveling of the pitch, he heard Stiles, "Need some help."

"Not really," Derek shrugged. It was a small bathroom, only enough room for one person to stand comfortably in between the sink and the toilet. Stiles sighed and started backing away.

Derek frowned and shook his head, not meaning to have come across as cold as he did.

"Actually, you can pass me tiles?" He offered, trying to brighten his tone. Stiles was plopped down just outside the doorway in a second. He smiled v\softly, almost unnoticeable, if it hadn't been for the fact that Derek noticed every detail about Stiles.

"You all grumpy with me for not staying behind like you said?"

"I'm not grumpy." He defended. Stiles gave him a look. "Yes." He sighed as if he was admitting to something as embarrassing as wetting the bed until you're fifteen.

Stiles chuckled, watching him work.

"You're not the only one that worries about everyone you know." Derek spared him a loot while reaching for a tile. "I know I'm human, der. You don't have to remind me that I don't heal, and I'm in more danger than most of you, but I still get this feeling that if I'm not there-"

Derek paused what he was doing to sit back and give Stiles his attention. Stiles started at him for a bit before continuing.

"I want to be there to look after you guys too. We've had close calls before, and nearly lost people. If I cared any less I'd listen to you when you tell me to stay back and out of the way, but I just have thing feeling that I need to be there in case something happens."

Derek gave him a sad smile. "And what if that something happens to you?"

Stiles frowned and lowered his head, shrugging. "If I can help, there's not really anything you can do to stop me from trying."

"Yeah," Derek nodded. "So I've learned."

Stiles chuckled and handed Derek another tile, smiling at him as he took the subtle hint the conversation had ended and turned back to laying the tiles in place. Stiles watched him intently, adoring the alpha.

"You got any plans tonight?" Stiles sighed when he was bored of the quiet.

"Back porch is fixed up, might get someone to help me put together the table, and cheers I ordered. Maybe fire up the grill?"

"That sounds fun." Stiles nodded, a look on his face like he was considering his options.

"You got a better idea?" Derek teased, because Stiles always had something to say about the activities Derek came up with.

"No, I just," He paused and thought to himself a moment. "I met this dude at the party the other night, and he texted me earlier asking if I'd be down to meet up later tonight."

Derek's heart sank a little. Oh, that prick.

"Oh," Derek nodded. He didn't wanna ask questions, he didn't wanna know. So Stiles just nodded.

"If it doesn't take too long I'll swing by after." Stiles delivered the empty promise with a grin. "Save some food for me."

Derek only nodded.

Stiles never showed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Derek was in a bad mood.

Everyone in the house felt it and kept to their best behavior.

He didn't scowl or glare, he didn't yell or stomp around, he just kept his head down and mouth shut.

It was a Thursday night, and his betas had come over after the Lacross game like they always did. Boyd having joined the team, came along with the other players plus Erica, after every game. Although Jackson never showed, he only made an appearance when Lydia did.

Except tonight was different. Stiles hadn't come.

Apparently, Stiles was invited by the guy he met at the party to hang out after the game. A date.

He got all this from Erica who told him with a look of pity and confusion etched into her feature. Derek said nothing, just nodded, and went on making dinner for those who did show.

After eating they settled into the living room and watched a movie Derek wasn't paying attention to. He'd been on autopilot half the night, stuck in his head wondering about where Stiles was and what he was up to.

He didn't understand why he felt sick in his gut that Stiles was out with someone else.

It just made him feel dizzy with something he didn't have a word for. Every time he pictured Stiles laughing at the guy jokes, playing footsy under the table, holding hands on the walk back to the car, kissing on his front step- his chest tightened painfully.

He knew what this disgusting feeling was now, and he felt pathetic for it.

Derek stood and without a word went up to his room and crawled into bed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Summer break had officially arrived and Derek was having the boys help him set up the pools in the back yard.

He hadn't seen Stiles in the past few days and it's been both wonderful and absolute agony. He was grateful to have a break from seeing Stiles's smile and shining eyes, hating knowing it was never for him. But he missed it all the same.

Either way, the space between them allowed Derek the room he needed to rebuild his walls. If Stiles was dating this other guy fine, Derek hadn't had a chance anyway. He'd very his heart and settle for just being pack.

The girls sat on the front steps far enough away from the guys on the other side to not hear their conversation. Even with super wolfy hearing.

"So, what happened?" Allison eyed the two who clearly knew more than she did. Both of them are closer to Stiles and Derek, respectively. "I was under the assumption they'd be giving us invitations to the wedding by graduation."

Erica chuckled sadly, "I don't know. But you should've seen Derek when I told him Stiles ditched us to go hang out with Markus."

"I don't know what's gotten into Stiles," Lydia grumbled, she hated being left out of the loop. "Just last month I was giving him advice on how to woo a man. Mind you, Markus was not the man I thought he'd be running off to woo."

"I don't think anyone thought that." Allison sighed.

"It's weird," Erica grumbled. "The past few days honestly feel like my parents are divorced. I only see either or, Stiles gets us on the weekends." Lydia laughed.

"How does that work?" Allison questioned.

"I don't know," The blonde shrugged leaning back on her hands. "I've never really asked. But it's all sort of instinctual. Like Derek is the alpha, he gives orders and dishes out punishments. Stiles is there to comfort our wounds and give Derek a smack upside the head if he's too hard on us."

"Instinctual?" Lydia grimaced. "Wait, like even your wolf thinks Stiles and Derek were on the road to being a thing?"

"Well," Erica sat up and frowned. "Honestly, before Stiles ran off with Merkus after the game and I told Derek about it, I thought they already were. It just made sense. Isaac said something a little while ago when I came over cause 'Mom and Dad are fighting again'. We all just kinda felt it I guess."

"Huh," Allison thought. Lydia smiled, the other two girls eyeing her suspiciously.

"What are you thinking?" Allison asked carefully.

"Oh," She smiled watching a blur jeep pull up the driveway. "Right on queue. Follow my lead ladies."

The two spared a look at each other before watching Stiles climb out of the jeep plastic bag in hand and a box-taped shut- under his arm.

"Hey, where is everyone?" Stiles eyed the house while approaching the girls.

"Outback." Erica supplied with a nod of her head.

"Surprised to see you showed up." Lydia offered, standing and going inside without giving him a chance to respond.

Allison followed without a word and Erica, slightly confused, gave him a quick look before rushing to follow. She didn't understand what Lydia's plan was but he didn't exactly wanna be left alone with him. She was not a fan of awkward situations.

Stiles stood there slightly hurt and very confused.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked following the girls into the kitchen. "What did I do now?" He busied himself unpacking the baked goods into the snack cupboard and the sunscreen he'll be needing later on the counter. He took a second to tuck the box off the side in the corner out of the way.

"It's nothing, Stiles." Lydia sighed, as though she was more hurt than anything else. The other two followed her mellow demeanor and avoided looking at Stiles.

"Okay," Stiles groans, getting a little paranoid. "So either I did something stupid and you're angry with me, or I did something really stupid and hurt your feelings?"

"Stiles," Lydia warned, lifting her hand to stop him from talking. "I don't wanna talk about it here, it's not my place."

"Heh," Stile let out a dry chuckle. "Since when is it not your place to talk about things I did to hurt you?"

"Cause you didn't exactly hurt me." Lydia put up a good front of being frustrated and emotionally exhausted.

The two were so focused on each other, that no one but Allison saw Erica's eyes widen and head start to shake as she motioned to the doorway leading out the back of the house.

"So I did do something stupid and hurt someone's feelings." Stiles nodded like he was finally getting to the bottom of it. "What happened?"

"Stiles," Lydia gave him a firm glare like it was supposed to be obvious what he did. Stiles just freaked out a bit at the knowing accusation in her tone and shrugged exasperated. "You broke things off with Derek!" She said louder than she really needed to.

Stiles blinked, obviously confused. "What?"

Erica cleared her throat, making the two look towards her and Allison who just started at something over their shoulders shifting awkwardly.

Stiles, mouth still slack with complete and utter confusion followed their gaze and looked to see Isaac and Derek standing there looking just as awkward. Well maybe, that was more Isaac.

"Um," Isaac cleared his throat daring a glance at Derek who stood completely still and stoic. "Pools ready."

Stiles looked around at each face in the room, all of them looking at him with uncertainty and then to Derek with sympathy.

"What?" Stiles asked again more exasperated. He gave everyone a look one last time before addressing the room as a whole, "There wasn't ever any breaking things off, me and Derek were never together."

"You weren't?" Issac asked completely unsure, looking to Derek for confirmation.

"Yea-" Stiles rolled his tongue along his lips and put his hands on his hips like an offended mother. "I think I'd remember being all up on that." He motioned to Derek who only raised a brow.

"Oh," Isaac nodded, still unsure. "You hen you and Markus... " He trailed off.

"Huh," Now Stiles looked really offended. "As if."

Lydia laughed at the unintended reference before she quieted herself and motioned the girls to ditch the awkward air with her. They all, as though if they moved too fast someone would be angry, stepped out into the hall and went the long way around back, through the front door.

"What is happening?" Stiles looked to the two completely bewildered as to where any of this was coming from all of a sudden.

"Um," Isaac looked to Derek who hadn't moved an inch. "I'm gonna-"

"Hold it!" Stiles raised his hand and pointed an accusatory finger at him. Isaac stopped in his attempt to back out of the room, frozen in place. "What the hell is all this drama about?"

"Um-"

"Say 'um' one more time, I'm gonna burn your scarf."

"Wh-" Isaac pouted for a moment before awkwardly shuffling between his two feet. "We kinda all thought you and Derek were, um-" He froze and dared a glance at a very unamused Stiles and an increasingly amused Derek. "Together, and you've been spending a lot of time with that Markus guy so we figured you two split-"

"That's enough." Stiles waved him away. Isaac was grateful and ran out back without a second glance.

Stiles sighed, facing Derek with a blank stare. Derek looked even more amused about all of this now that everyone was gone.

"You think this is funny?"

"I didn't realize that's the conclusion the pack came to." Was all he said.

"Well, we should probably make some things clear before the kids side with you in the divorce." Stiles scored playfully trying to hide his nervousness. He really didn't expect this to be the way he ended up addressing his and Derek's relationship.

"You think they'd take my side?" Derek raised a brow. "You're the one that spoils them."

Stiles just laughed, it's all he could do. They were standing ten feet apart, dancing around the subject.

Derek took a whiff of the air and smiled at the scent of stiles that became more and more permanent every time he came over. If it weren't for the past few days, and Isaac living here, Stiles was here the most out of everyone.

"So," Derek tried to think of the jerk's name, "Markus, you guys aren't," He made and gesture with his hands, looking away from Stiles.

"No, god no."

"Right," He nodded, "Cause when you came home from that party, you smelled like. . ."

"What?" Stiles tilted his head. He remembered being left in the dark room wondering what made Derek look so uncomfortable, and actually a little angry. He had a hard time trying to sleep cause his mind kept asking questions.

"A stranger, and sex." Derek put it bluntly. Stiles's eyes bulged out of his head and Derek almost laughed.

"What? No," Stiles recoiled in shock, not expecting him to say that.

"Then you started leaving us behind to go hand out with this guy you met at the party." Drek shrugged.

"The dude I met is not-" He stopped himself from saying the word, it sounded too absurd. "I met Markus, he was DD'ing for his friends, we got to talking. He offered to pay me to help him study. That's it!"

Derek nodded in understanding. He didn't need to hear Stile's heartbeat to tell that was the truth.

"Must have been a good amount of money for you to ditch the pack twice," Derek said, not really making it a question. Stiles chewed on his lip as Derek approached the kitchen island and leaned on it. "What?"

Stiles sighed turning to grab the box and placing it on the island and slinging it over to Derek. "The allowance I get from Dad every now and then wouldn't have been enough."

Derek stared at him for a moment before turning his attention to the box curiously and carefully opening it.

"It's just a housewarming gift," Stiles shuffled in place, looking anywhere but Derek.

Derek looked down in the box at stacks of plates and bowls, cups, all individually wrapped. Derek took a plate and gently tore it free from the plastic wrap, examining the intricate royal blue patterns along the edges, and the vibrant red and yellow flowers painted in the center. The flowers are arranged in the vague shape of a wolf, with leaves surrounding it like a nest. The dish was glossy, polished, and shinny, and smelled of somewhere old but clean. turning it over he saw painted in very neat handwriting, "The family is One of Nature's Masterpieces. Proberty of Hale, made by A. Bartosz."

Derek looked up to Stiles who started at the plat in his hands.

"Um, they're hand-painted, I went to a place out in Allens Town. A polish place. You've been using paper plates and stuff so I figured," Stile trailed briefing a look at Derek before returning his gaze to the plate. "In Poland, there's a belief that the beauty of the dish enriches the flavor of the food. You're always cooking for everyone so I thought-" Stiles cut himself off with a sigh and scratched the back of his neck.

Derek carefully set down the plate and walked around to Stiles who was still looking anywhere but him.

Next thing Stiles knew, he was warm. Really warm. Warm around his waist from Derek's arm, warm in his cheek where Derek held, warm on his lips where Derek kissed.

Stiles melted against him with a relieved sigh. It felt like he was in a dream he never wanted to wake up from. A dream the never thought would come true, no matter how many times Lydia told him to go for it.

He lifted his hands and placed them firmly on Derek's chest, one sliding further up to the base of his neck. He had no idea what he was doing, and he was fairly certain Derek knew it based on the rumble of laughter in his chest. But he followed Derek's lead and soon found a rhythm that made Stiles's knees weak.

When Derek finally pulled away, Stiles straight-up whined in protest, earning a chuckle from the alpha.

"Thank you," He smiled softly stroking Stiles's cheek with his thumb.

Stiles was giddy at the affection, smiling dreamily up at Derek. It made something in Derek stir back to life. The walls he tried to build back up the past few days crumbled down around him as Stiles pushed up into another kiss, hands coming up around his neck and into his hair. Derek hugged and his waist and pulled his impossibly closer, sighing in contentment.

"No," They heard a sudden shout, pulling apart and looking to the back door. Erica was moving away with her back to them heading back into the yard. "They're busy eating each other faces!"

"Oh, my god." Stiles groaned. Derek only chuckled turning back to Stiles and pulling him back in.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[woongisi]

Drum Line Dream // Song Mingi

dom!Song Mingi x sub!gn!Reader // SMUT

WC// 2.1k

Synopsis// Things went a bit off kilter with your college marching band crush. Turns out, all you needed to fix it in the end was some bad luck and deep fried food.

Warnings// semi-public, grinding/dry humping, pet names (baby)

Author's Note// Written in one sitting and definitely not proofread. Nothing too crazy this time but I HAD to get this very self indulgent idea out of my mind. This one's for you former and current band kids, I get you. ☺︎

---------

College marching band. One of your worst decisions, yet one of your best. There was no shortage of drama to be had but at least you'd met some of your closest friends.

You played the trombone, it was large and it was loud. Your type of instrument and coincidentally your type of man. Maybe you'd smacked a few too many people in the head with your slide or emptied your spit valve on the shoes of those you disliked. Regardless, you considered it revenge for how the wind instruments would sneak up on you and blow air into their reeds as hard as possible just behind your ear.

As far as instrumental squabbles went, you found the drum line to be the most tolerable. Sure, some of the snares made it a point to play as loudly as they could, but they kept it localized within their section. You had a hard time admitting it, but you may have held a bit of a bias toward them.

That bias was Song Mingi. Song Mingi played the bass drum. The kind that you had to pull over your head, two heavy straps bracing your shoulders on either side. The kind that burned through far too many expensive wool felt mallets. You never were sure how they beat them up so quickly.

You met Mingi your freshman year and got acquainted with him rather quickly, you never had much time to spend with him as your show for the year had you in separate areas for most of it. The same followed your sophomore. Now, you found yourself in your junior year.

Earlier in the year you'd ushered Mingi over and haphazardly told him he was hot, and that if he didn't kiss you, you might cry. There you shared a kiss high up in the bleachers, hiding behind the row of bass drums. Since that moment things had become a bit awkward, you apologized, claiming you'd been overly emotional and didn't want things to get in the way of your friendship. What you didn't know was the conflict that caused Mingi.

Song Mingi was one of your best decisions yet one of your worst, just as joining the band was. Something about him was addicting. Perhaps it was his deep voice, his tall and slender figure, his bright smile that lit up the room no matter where you were.

Away games were always your favorite. You may not be able to perform at halftime as often, but cheering on the football team was enough. Besides, there was something exciting about wandering the stands of school stadiums previously unknown to you. Some schools, like the one you were visiting this night, had fancier concession stands than others.

Halftime finally hit, you stayed in place for a few minutes to take a look at the opposing team's band and judge their uniforms before meandering your way to the least busy concession stand.

You greeted the student manning the stand with a smile and a nod, taking a moment to skim over the dodgy whiteboard that served as a menu. You settled on a thing of fried oreos, 3 pieces to a boat. You handed the worker some amount of cash and told her to keep the change. It was pointless to try and find somewhere to sit so you settled down a matter of feet away, leaning against the brick wall of the buildings.

Before you could even take your first bite, a familiar voice caught your attention. Mingi had approached the booth, somehow evading being noticed by you up until that point.

“Ah, I'm sorry. We just sold the last of the oreos for the moment.” The student sighed and briefly checked her watch. “There'll be more ready in about 10 minutes… but you seem to be part of the band.”

Mingi nodded with understanding. “I'll have to be back in the stands by then. I'll just take a coke. Thank you!”

Now was your chance.

“Psssst, Mingi!” You half yelled, half whispered and motioned eagerly for him to come toward you. Mingi was quick to approach, fumbling with his bottle of soda.

“Yeah? What's up?”

“That was me… sorry. You wanna share?” You held the boat of fried oreos out as an offering.

“No, no! You spent your money on those. You should have them.”

“I insist.” You stared down at his gloved hands for a moment. “Would you… like some help with that?”

You had removed your black wool gloves and bulky gauntlets before heading to find food. A foresight that Mingi apparently lacked. He nodded shyly, almost embarrassed, and thanked you.

“Here, open.” You grabbed one of the oreos, using your other hand to hover underneath it to guard against crumbs. You leaned inward, allowing Mingi to take the cookie into his mouth. “I've already got my gloves off, don't wanna make you mess with yours.”

Those lips. Forever your greatest weakness. All he'd done was take food from your hand and all you could do was try not to stare. The kiss you shared a year before lingered in the back of your mind. Soft. They were so very soft. Pillowy and normally faintly flavored by whatever chapstick he'd managed to dig out of his bookbag. You couldn't forget the feeling and even now you regretted how fleeting the moment was.

“Hey,” Mingi awkwardly shifted his weight to one side. “Can we talk for a minute?”

You felt like your heart fell to your ass, suddenly

worried about the conversation that was yet to come. Was he angry, upset, confused? You didn't know.

Mingi led you to a corner he'd spotted when the band arrived on the field. The bright lights didn't quite reach through to dispel the darkness and the area was sparsely populated compared to the concessions.

“U-uhm…” It was unusual, the way Mingi was so seemingly anxious. Your typical charismatic musician that so confidently backed the drum line had disappeared, replaced by someone far more vulnerable.

“Your face is seriously red. You sick? Need me to tell the director that you need time out?” You cocked your head to the side with concern.

Mingi shook his head frantically and grabbed one of your hands. Forcing himself to hold your eye contact, he finally continued. “Iwannakissyouagain-”

“What…?” Whatever he'd said was spoken too quickly for you to process.

“I… want… to kiss you again.”

That was when you learned it wasn't one sided, the memory haunted him just as well. Though you didn't expect simply sharing your snacks to lead to a confession, you certainly weren't about to complain.

You gripped Mingi’s hand back, urging him to follow you as you hurried to hide under the home team’s bleachers. Not a word exchanged in the meantime. This side of the stadium housed the press box, meaning there was more solidity to the structure and more places to hide beneath.

Pressing your back against the wall, you snaked your hand up to rest on the back of Mingi’s neck.

“I missed you, Song Mingi.”

Any hesitation that plagued his mind was erased in an instant. Mingi's lips collided haphazardly with yours, his hands holding your waist. This, you thought, is what you'd needed for a year's time. This kiss was unlike your first, already starting intense. Mingi had no problem taking charge, chasing your lips whenever you pulled away like a man starved.

“Mmn,” You tapped the nape of his neck. “Need to breathe.”

Mingi was undeterred, fumbling with the zipper on the back of your uniform jacket. You shrugged it off of your shoulders, leaving it to drape off of your elbows and grant Mingi access to your neck.

“Shiiiit,” You whined against him. You had never given the uniform jacket design any thought but presently you couldn't be more relieved that once you put it back on, the mock neck would cover any marks. “Needed this so bad.”

Mingi's ministrations were sloppy, hungry, sucking and nibbling lightly on your sensitive skin. A shiver shot its way up his spine, leading him to let out a quiet moan. That was a sound you decided you could get used to.

“Can't take it, wanna touch you.” Mingi growled, becoming painfully aware of his growing erection. “I'll make it quick. Promise.”

“Mmk, anything, I'm yours.”

You rushed to remove your jacket entirely, discarding it to the side. You'd just have to handle the dust that undoubtedly covered it from the gravel layer. Mingi's jacket was soon to follow.

Your mouth gaped slightly, taking in the shape of Mingi's waist. Bibbers were tight, form fitting but so often hidden beneath your black and red jackets. You never realized just how slim his waist was but, now, you'd never forget it.

“Damn things.” Mingi grumbled, undoing the velcro and pulling down the zipper to his marching pants before assisting you with yours. There was no bothering with removing them entirely. Black tees and black shorts that laid just above the kneecap were standard for underneath the band's uniforms.

Mingi grabbed you firmly and flipped you around so that you had to brace yourself against the brick wall chest first. His strong arms held you tight against him, one around your waist and the other reaching over your chest and keeping you steady.

In this position, you couldn't see Mingi… but you could surely feel him. His breath was ragged against your neck with his hips grinding against your ass.

“Mingi, holy shit-” You didn't need to look to understand the considerable length of his cock. Four layers worth of fabric was too much, but at the same time so perfect.

Mingi’s arm situated on your waist slid downward, a gloved slipping beneath your waist band and swiftly finding your arousal. The sensation of the woolen gloves against your bare skin was almost cruel, too good and complemented by the unexpected skill Mingi possessed with his hands.

Low moans tumbled from deep in Mingi’s throat, sending shockwaves straight to your core. You'd heard him whine and groan plenty of times whenever he screwed up a formation for the nth time and on hot summer days when you were finally allowed a water break and moment in the shade. It was different to hear his familiar sounds in this manner. Despite the similarities, something felt more primal now.

Mingi was losing his control by this point, grating his aching cock hard against your figure and mumbling incoherently.

“I'm gonna cum, baby.” He nuzzled his face into you, resting his chin on the area just next to the back of your neck.

“Me too, keep going, cum for me.” You sacrificed one of your arms to muzzle your desperate moans. To be caught was one of the last things you needed.

Mingi broke first, a deep and drawn out whine tearing from him. He continued to rub himself despairingly into you, riding out his own orgasm while trying to keep up with you.

It didn't take long for you to follow in his wake. The building coil of pleasure building in your stomach finally snapped, drenching Mingi’s hand in your fluids. Your moan caught in your throat leaving you to choke back a cry.

For a moment, everything was quiet but the buzz of the nearby breaker boxes and the sound of your heaving chests.

“Fuck, thank you. Thank you so much.” Mingi praised and guided you both to rest on the cold ground. He grabbed your hand with his clean one and smiled brightly as if he hadn't just rocked your world in the midst of a football game. “Can we never keep ourselves away like we have been again?”

“Of course. You have no clue how long I've been yearning for you.” You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose you do now.

Only after kissing Mingi’s cheek did you scurry to gather the estranged components of your marching uniform. The game was back on, your bandmates wondering where in the world you could be.

“Mingi.” You whispered with realization, “Your glove.”

“Whatever,” He sighed. “Here's the story, ok?”

Mingi cobbled together some cover up. Some mostly coherent story about how you slipped and fell, dropping your drink leading to him accidentally putting his hand right in the puddle on the concrete. He only hoped they didn't question why your uniform was largely devoid of any liquid.

Reaching the away team's stands, one of the snares crumpled up a nearby napkin and flung it at Mingi’s face with expert aim.

“Dude, where the fuck have you two been?!”

If only he knew.

[reminiscingtonight]

AMC

words: trees, oreos, shoes

Story Time (Ana-Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

A/N: This is the unofficial sequel to Sister's Know Best

[WOSO Masterlist]

“No.”

“No?” you question, smile playing on your lips.

“No!” Blue eyes dance with amusement as the little girl in your lap giggles away. “Mama isn’t graceful enough for that.”

Ana scoffs from her position next to you, reaching a hand across to tickle your daughter’s stomach. She squeals in laughter again, squirming to get away.

It’s another day in the Crnogorčević-(Y/L/N) household. Emma had weaseled her way out of her midday nap, wanting you and Ana to tell her story after story. Eventually the three of you strayed away from the classical princesses and began telling Emma of the early beginnings of your relationship. And of course you had to include the story of Lia’s unexpected arrival triggering Ana’s escape from your bedroom via the tree outside your window. 

Rather than the gleeful laughter you were expecting, you and Ana are met instead with staunch disbelief that it never happened.

“But why would mama need to do that? Auntie Lia’s not scary.”

Lia’s probably your daughter’s favorite person, even ranking above both you and Ana. If any story painted Lia out to be anything less than an angel, Emma would always be her number one defender. 

“Well you know how Auntie Lia is mommy’s sister?” Emma nods so vigorously you have to hold onto her tightly so she won’t fall off your lap. “And you remember how mommy and I went all mama bear when that boy stole your lunch the other day?”

Earlier in the week Emma came home from school crying. Through her heaving sobs you pieced together what had happened. Apparently an older boy had taken her oreos straight out of her lunch box during the break in the day. Ana instantly saw red, marching back into the school and stirring up a fuss until the other student was reprimanded.

Emma nods again, albeit with her smile dimming a bit at the reminder of her lost dessert.

“Well sometimes Auntie Lia gets protective of mommy like that too.”

There’s an adorable furrow between Emma’s brows as she tries to think through Ana’s explanation. It must be enough though however, as Emma shrugs, instantly asking for the ending of the story. While Emma got all of Ana’s looks, she definitely got all of your stubbornness and impatience.

“But everything was okay at the end of the day.”

Emma frowns. “Even if mama fell out of the tree?”

You laugh. “Yes, even if she fell out of the tree. Because your mama gifted me some special new shoes,” Ana rolls her eyes at that, “and turns out your Auntie Lia knew mama was upstairs the entire time!”

Emma’s mouth drops open in shock. “What? How?! Can Auntie Lia read minds?”

You and Ana exchange a look.

“Yes. So you better be careful the next time you see her!”

---

Lia’s confused when she comes around the next day and Emma remains silent the entire time, eyes wide with wonder and awe.

Send me a 3 word prompt

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ii. reader

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⭑๋࣭ summary page

please refresh your memory of the content warnings that's mentioned on the summary page. this chapter will include s*xual activites.

I am met with the sun glaring at me through the windows of my penthouse and the feel of my Siamese cat, Oreo, rubbing her head on my face to wake me up for her breakfast. And of course, left with the emptiness of the bed I hoped would be filled with my husband. I rub my eyes to glance at the clock to see that it’s nine o’clock, which is way past my regular wake up time. It’s been a while since I slept in, and my mind immediately replayed the events of last night. 

  I cheated on my husband. 

 I didn't know how to feel about it, however, I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel good. 

 My sore body would tell me otherwise. 

 I don’t remember the last time I had sex. The last time I was looked at and fucked with pure hunger. The last time I was stretched and orgasmed three times in one sitting unless it was because of my vibrator. It’s been so long, the feeling started to feel foreign to me. . . Until last night. 

  Geto Suguru. 

 He has some good dick on him, but damn, he’s a fucking asshole. Nothing I’m not used to, though. It seems like my pussy has a soft spot for them. I’ve denied men and their advances for months, years, at that. But my body was craving to be worshiped. To feel alive again. I’ve been neglected by my husband for far too long. He hasn’t touched me, let alone looked at me in almost ten months. I’m always met with the excuse that he’s tired or busy with work. 

 Of course, my first thought was to think maybe he was going through something mentally, so I tried to make sure that he was okay, but he told me not to worry. 

 I thought he wasn’t attracted to me anymore. I have gained weight since we got married. When I brought that up, rather than reassure me, he said I was overthinking, which only led me to overthink even more.

Cheating never crossed my mind regardless of his promiscuous past he had before we met. 

 He wouldn’t do that to me. 

  Right, Y/N?

 No. He wouldn’t. It’s just—I can’t win in this marriage, and the natural thing to do is ask for a divorce, but what am I supposed to do? I’m a stay-at-home housewife wife in a foreign country. I trusted my husband enough to take care of me because that’s what he promised. 

 At least he was able to stick to his word about that. 

 It feels nice not to work. Be spoiled and have the luxuries. But I don’t care about that. I wanted to be loved and feel wanted. I crave attention from my husband. Not anyone else. 

  Just take it for me.

 I just want to make you cum one more time. Is that okay?

 Oreo’s meowing breaks me from my memories of last night. 

 “Ah. Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Oreo,” I say, scratching behind her ear. “Let’s get you some food.” I get out of bed and make my way to the kitchen to fill my starving feline’s bowl and pour her water. 

 I need to get my day started. I remembered I have a lunch date with my best friend at noon, so I headed to the bathroom to get ready. 

 After showering, I stood in front of the mirror while brushing my teeth and noticed a love mark on the left side of my neck. 

 “Fuck,” I mutter to myself. 

 I’m not too fond of hickys, but I was too busy being a whimpering mess while getting stuffed with cock that wasn’t my husband’s. I don’t need to worry about him seeing. He’s on a business trip, so I’m sure it’ll be healed by the time he returns.

 It’s not like he pays attention to me anyways. 

 But I need to cover it up for my lunch date with my best friend because I know she’ll throw back-to-back questions at me that I don’t feel like answering. 

 That was my first and last time cheating on my husband, and I’m not planning on doing it again. 

  Thank you for giving me this good pussy.

 Do you realize how good you feel?

 His words invade my mind and pool wetness between my thighs. I finish brushing my teeth and stare at myself in the mirror. 

 Suguru touched me. The touch of his hands exploring my curves lingers on and burns my flesh. Our fornication wasn’t even intimate, but I felt like I was taken care of. A stranger was able to figure out my kinks and pinpoints that made me explode. 

  I want him.  

 I wanted to be fucked like that again—but only by him . 

 “Gosh, Y/N. What the hell is wrong with you?” Again, I whisper out loud to myself because, yes. What is wrong with me? 

 I’m married. I have been for seven years. I shouldn’t be lusting over another man. This gnawing guilt in my stomach won’t go away. It’s fine. I’ll be okay. I’ll tell my husband when he returns and atone for my sins. Until then, I won’t have to worry about seeing Suguru again. I won’t think about him either. Despite how fucking good he made me feel. It shouldn’t be hard. We didn’t exchange numbers. So I will be okay. 

  Right?

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀A month later. . .

 My errands for today consisted of grocery shopping and picking out new furniture for the penthouse I share with my husband. I’m tired of staring at the black-and-white décor. I love the combination, but the lack of warmth makes me feel even more alone. If I can’t feel at home with my husband, then I’ll make it feel like home for myself. It’s missing earth tones, plants, colors, everything. 

 It would be easy for me to hire an interior designer, but doing it myself will keep me busy and my mind off of...

  Look at my pretty girl taking this fucking cock.

 His pretty girl. . .

  Y/N. No.

 How I abused my clit since that night with Suguru, I know she’s tired of me. It’s been a month. I should’ve forgotten about him by now. And I definitely should’ve already told my husband. I just couldn’t find the courage to do so. 

 He returned from his business trip four days after I cheated on him and I didn’t care to mention it. I figured if we didn’t sleep together, let alone in the same room, what was the point of telling him? I honestly think he wouldn’t care. He probably is cheating on me. He's forty years old and I know his libido is through the roofs. 

 I would know.

 Nothing can convince me that he hasn’t had sex in ten months. Every month he has a business trip. Maybe he’s off to see his mistress. Who knows?

 I’m making dinner tonight and he said he’ll be there. I’m not holding it to him, though. If he shows, I’ll tell him about my infidelity then. 

 All this shopping I did is making me tired. Coffee in the middle of the day sounds right to me. It didn’t take long for me to pull up to my favorite bakery. I walked inside and allowed the sweet aroma of treats and the nuttiness of freshly brewed coffee to infiltrate my senses. 

 The shop is pretty busy, so the line is long as expected. While I wait, I give my attention to my phone and scroll through my unread messages:

  Best friend

  Girl, I am long overdue for a vacation. Let’s start planning!

  Mom

  Honey, you’re coming home for the holidays. Right? Your father and I miss you. 

  Husband.

  What time are you coming home?

Why the fuck does he care? I replied to my best friend and mother but left my husband unread. Since when does he care for my whereabouts? Annoyance pricks my skin just seeing the message. I opted to call him instead of texting him back to see if there was something he needed, but the interruption of a familiar voice from behind caught my attention. 

 “Excuse me, beautiful. It looks like you’re next.”

  No . It couldn’t be. 

 I whip lashed my head around to be met with dark raven hair that’s pulled into a bun, different from what I remember a month ago. 

 Those tattooed covered arms I remember holding me up while fucking my pussy.

 We’re no longer in a dimmed setting, so the light shines on his irises allowing the deep violet color to become evident. Specks of sweat coats his forehead, and by his attire, he must’ve finished working out. But even so, he smells so damn good. Dark. Woody with a mixture of his natural odor. 

 Fuck, Y/N. Get it together. 

 I cleared my throat, pretending like I wasn’t affected by his presence. “Geto.”

 “Suguru,” he countered.

 I was so stunned by his appearance and became distracted from our intense eye contact, I didn’t even realize the barista was calling me forward because I was next in line.

 I immediately looked away from Suguru to move up, place my order, and attempted to pay, but of course, Suguru had other plans.

 He came beside me and pulled out his card. “We’re together. Coffee. Tall. Dark. No milk or sugar.” 

 “I can pay-”

 “For your tab. I know,” he interrupted. It’s like deja vu from the night we. . . 

  Y/N.

 He continued. “Gosh, can I simply just be kind and pay for you? Are you really that prideful?” 

 “Go fu-” I realized he was teasing me, so reacting would only give him the satisfaction he was looking for. “Thank you, Geto.”

 “Suguru and you’re welcome, Y/N,” he smirks. 

 How he says my name causes me to swallow a small gulp and subtly squeeze my thighs. It’s like those pale pink lips were meant to say my name. 

 No. I’m not supposed to be having these pornographic thoughts about him anymore. It’s time for me to go.

 I thank the barista for making my drink and storm out the door to head back to my car. But of course, behind me comes the reason for these wet fantasies in my mind and why power walking out the bakery.

 “Y/N!”

 I continued walking. “What do you want?” 

 “I haven’t seen you in a month and you’re acting like I’m some kind of pestering bug.” He finally catches up to me, softly grabs my wrists, and turns me around. That touch spreads chills throughout my body and alarms my pussy. I just know any longer with him I’m going to explode. 

 I can feel Suguru looking at me, but I refuse to meet his eyes. “What do you want?” I ask again.

 “I just want to see how you’re doing. Maybe get to know you. Is that okay?” He asks, gently.

  I just want to make you cum one more time. Is that okay?

 Fuck.

 “Okay. Fine. You can walk me to my car, but after that, leave me alone. Got it?” I demanded. 

 He chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender, flexing those sexy arms. “Got it.”

 For the next few minutes, I walk in silence while listening to Suguru talk and ask me questions that I give nods or vague answers. Eventually, time slows down and it feels like my car is further away the more he and I talk. But honestly, I don’t mind.

 Aside from his asshole tendencies, he's sweet. His constant compliments that I haven’t heard in a while make my cheeks warm. I’m blessed with dark skin because had it been otherwise, I would have resembled a cherry tomato. 

 We disposed of our finished coffee cups and finally reached my car, which he coincidentally parked right next to me. 

 I leaned against my door and looked into his eyes. “Hm, I haven’t seen you in a month, you end up at my favorite bakery, and you’re parked right next to me?” I ask, teasingly. “If I didn’t know any better, you’ve been keeping tabs on me, Geto.”

 He closes the space between us, rubbing his hand along my arms. “Or maybe it’s just fate?”

 I slowly but surely feel myself coming undone from his subtle actions and how he speaks to me. I know what I’m doing isn’t right, but I just can’t bring myself to say no. Suguru gives me the attention I want. The attention I’ve been yearning for from my husband, and I can’t deny it any longer. 

 “ . . . Geto ,” I say barely above a whisper. 

 “ Suguru, baby. Call me, Suguru.” He runs his nose along my neck, deeply inhaling my scent and exhaling in pure pleasure. 

 His hand that’s rubbing my arms trails down to intertwine with my fingers while his other rests on my hips. That touch I can't get rid of returns to my skin and the heat of his hands burns me all over again. I don’t know when, how, or why but I whimper. 

  Take this cock like a good girl because I know you can.

 Yes. I want to take it. I need to again, but I... 

 “I can’t, Suguru. I can’t,” I murmured. 

 He peppers soft yet possessive kisses across my face before descending to my jaw and neck. “You can, baby. You can. I can’t stop thinking about that night.” He nips my flesh. “ About you. ”

 I whimper again. 

 “I miss you so much, Y/N. Every fucking night for the past thirty days I’ve been fisting my cock while thinking about you. Thinking about your soft moans and how sweet you sound while saying my name.”

 “Suguru. . . please .”

 “Fucking that tight pussy to get rid of that spicy attitude you have that drives me insane.” He begins palming my clothed pussy in the middle of the parking lot and I’m too mind fucked to have any shame. 

 He continues. “Your husband isn’t taking care of you, angel, so let me. Use me for your pleasure.”

  Will you do that for me?

Thirty seconds didn’t even pass until I unlocked the door of my Escalade and climbed into the back seat to be fucked once again by someone who isn’t my husband. 

 Everything about Suguru is intoxicating.

 His lips that I love the feel of against mine. 

 His body that molds perfectly with mine. 

 And his hands that are so slender yet strong, holding me in place while I ride his cock, on the verge of cumming for the second time. He fills me. All eight-in-a-half inches stretch me the more I drop down his length. My pussy will probably never get used to Suguru, but I will never deny the pleasure she seeks. 

 Our skin slapping resonates in the air of my car along with our shared moans and my wetness responding to him. I wrap my arms around his neck to deepen our kiss, bouncing even harder on his cock. 

 “Fuck, angel. You’re doing such a good job riding my cock. I love it when you make a mess on me.” He says it like I’m all that he’s used to, causing my pussy to clench in response. 

 “Suguru, you’re so deep,” I cry. 

 “Hm, I know baby but don’t tell me you can’t handle it. You see how pretty you look when you’re confident? Taking every single last inch of me?” 

 I moan, but that wasn’t a good enough answer for him. So he asks again. 

 “Answer me, Y/N”—he breaks our kiss to press his fingers in my cheeks to pucker my lips—“Do you see how pretty you look when you’re confidently taking my cock?”

 “Yes, Suguru. Yes, I do.” I don’t care how pathetic I sound. When I’m being stuffed like this and this good, I’ll say anything to please him.

 “Tell me you can take it, princess,” he orders, softly.

 “I can take it, Suguru. I can take it.”

 He smirks, kissing my lips. “Hm, that’s my girl. Go ahead. Use me to make yourself cum. Okay?”

 I nod. He leans back with his arms spread across the head of my car seats to watch me. My hands took purchase on his broad chest while I continued to chase my release. Every bounce I made his tip kissed my g spot, having me moan and cry his name uncontrollably. 

 The intensity of his deep purple irises bores into me and I can’t look away. The way he looks at me. . . It’s doing indescribable things to me and my pussy. I flatten my feet on each of his sides and slowly jump up and down on his cock. I’m rewarded with a hiss and a quick kiss on my lips for being his good girl. 

 “I know many men would do anything to feel how good your pussy is. I don’t deserve this,” he rasps, massaging my bottom lip with his thumb. “Tell me I don’t deserve this pussy and that I should consider myself lucky, Y/N.”

 Riding his cock while hearing his praises makes me feel powerful. Like I’m all he wants to worship. 

 “Y-You— fuck, Suguru —You don’t deserve m-my pussy,” I stammered, bouncing harder on him. “Be glad that you’re fucking me.”

 Suguru abruptly thrust upwards, pulling a sharp cry from my throat. “Fuck, yes. Yes, I’m so glad you gave me this pussy again, baby,” he groans while holding my ass cheeks to spread. “Can I fuck you, angel? Please let me fuck you.” He asks me this but has already started pumping his cock inside of me.

 “Yes, Suguru. God, fuck me. I’m right there!”

 His balls swings against my ass the deeper he fucks into me. The tears that I had the last time we had sex returned, but this time they feel more intense because this fucking feels more intense. It’s like he has grown since the last time. His grips are more firm and his thrusts are more precise. I feel my juices and cream trickling down his cock, creating gushing noises that join our foreign moans. My car windows are up tight, but from anyone looking outside they would know what's going on by how the car rocks the harder he fucks me.

 I cuff his cheeks and rest my forehead against his, shaking and whimpering that I’m about to cum because I feel the bubble in my stomach that is less than a minute away from exploding with my release.

 How can I feel guilty about cheating on my husband while I’m being fucked like this—again. 

 “Best fucking pussy I ever had. I love how wet I make you, Y/N,” he breathes. “Cum for me, angel. Please , cum with me.”

 And it was like that. . . Those three words caused my orgasm to wash over him while we cum together.

 Suguru’s moans were harsh and hitched, slowing down his fervent thrusts while he finished emptying his release in the condom. Our lips met again to swallow how sweet and intoxicating our sounds of pleasure tastes. He nipped harshly on my tongue, and if I didn’t know any better, I was bleeding but I honestly don't care. It shows he’s possessive. 

 And I like that. 

 Having sex feels amazing, but there’s something about the after-high sex that does something to my body. I could tell Suguru feels the same way. 

 After we cleaned ourselves up, courtesy of the wipes that I keep in my glove department, Suguru and I sat in silence. How he was ogling me told me everything I needed to know. 

 “You want to do this again. Don’t you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

 “I think we both do. You’re just denying it, and I don’t know why.”

 “Because I’m ma-”

 “Don’t tell me it’s because you’re married because, again, I do not care .” He enunciates every syllable of his last words to make them believable, which I find myself believing. 

 I look down at the pear-cut wedding ring on my finger that I used to cherish deeply, however, now I feel nothing but sadness when I look at it. Ten months have passed since my husband touched me. I don’t even remember the last time he said the words I love you to me. My marriage gives me security, but Suguru gives me. . . comfort . This is the second time we’ve had sex and I know my needs can be fulfilled by him. 

 Don’t do it, Y/N. Go work things out with your husband.

 I’ve tried.

 I’ve tried to for over a year. It just doesn’t feel the same anymore. Eventually, I’ll ask for a divorce, but for now—I think I’ll enjoy myself.

 “Okay. . .” 

 “Okay?” He repeats, questioning.

 “Just sex, Suguru. No romantic feelings. No dates. Nothing intimate. Just sex. Don’t think I’m going to leave my husband for you because I’m not. I’m making that clear now, and if you can’t agree to my terms, then I’m serious. . . You won’t see me again.”

 He smirks, leaning over to kiss me. “That fucking spicy attitude of yours is going to drive me insane, especially when I know how sweet you sound when you cum on my cock.”

 I swat his chest, playfully. “Suguru, I’m serious.”

 I may or may not know what I’m getting myself into, but I know I’m more than sure about telling my husband. Despite how fucked up my marriage is right now, we’ve never had lies, and that’s not something I’m planning on starting.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ Later that evening. . .

 The sounds of cutlery kissing plates and pouring wine into a glass are all I can hear while I have dinner with my husband. The silence is so loud, I’m convinced I can hear every piece of food that swallows down his throat. I’m surprised we’re even having dinner together. Usually, he grabs his plate and heads into his office. I guess he’s tired of eating alone with his thoughts. But why was he so eager for me to come home just to not utter one word to me?

 Not a kiss on the cheek.

 Not a hug.

 Not waiting in the living room for me.

 Was all he needed for his sweet trophy wife to come home to make dinner for him?

 My eyes pierce his head while I sip on my third glass of wine. I study the man I’m foolishly still madly in love with.

 Toji Zen'in.

 Memories of those strong arms that are decorated with ink, being wrapped around me at night, play in my mind. When there was a time my soul felt at peace when he looked at me with those jade-colored hues that resembled a rainforest. His midnight locks I tucked my fingers in every time he was in my depths making sweet love to me. Even his jasmine and citrus scent still does something to me. I remember how he makes me feel.

  Made me feel.

 Looking at him and having sex with Suguru made me realize I have a type. 

 Dark-haired assholes with tattoos that know how to please me.

 Just my luck.

 “Something’s wrong?” His deep voice breaks me from my thoughts.

 “No. Why do you ask?”

 “Because you’re just staring at me.”

 I scoffed. “Didn’t think there was an issue looking at my husband. That’s what you are to me, no?”

 He shifts in his chair. “No, there isn’t an issue, and yes I’m your husband, but you’re staring at me like you have something to say.”

 “Well, I don’t.”

 “Alright.”

 Here goes that unnecessary tension.

 I decided to keep the conversation going. “So why did you text me when I’m coming home?” 

 “Didn’t think there was an issue with wanting to know when my wife is coming home.” This motherfucker. 

 “Toji, stop fucking with me. Look at your message thread and tell me when’s the last time you asked me when I’m coming home, let alone ask me anything at all.”

 “Again, is there something you want to get off your chest, Y/N? What’s up with all this anim-”

 “I’m having an affair.” I blurted. 

 “. . . What?” He asks, but I know he heard me. Maybe he’s trying to make sure he heard correctly. So I’ll repeat myself.

 “An affair. I’m having one.”

 He flexes his fingers around the glass of water, and seeing how his veins protruded, I could tell this wasn’t the news he was expecting to hear. I mean, who would want to hear from their spouse that they’re cheating?”

 His jaw clenches. “With who? Where’d you meet him?”

 “Some guy I met at the bar.”

 “What’s his name?”

  I arch my brow. “Why does it matter?”

 “Y/N. Stop fucking with me. What’s his name?” He asks through gritted teeth.

 “Geto Suguru.”

 He nods, sipping on his water. “For how long?”

 “Not long. Met him last month. Left it at that, then I ran into him today .”

 “So you didn’t answer my text because you were too busy being some motherfucker’s cum bucket?”

 His harsh words hit me with full force causing me to jump. I feel my heart being squeezed and tears pricking my eyes. In no shape or form am I justifying my sins, but being referred to as a cum bucket was not what I expected. 

 “Fuck you, Toji,” I hissed. I grabbed my empty dish and excused myself to the kitchen to clean up. 

 “ Shit . . . Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

 I turned around. “Yes, you did. Don’t tell you didn’t because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have said it.”

 Toji gets up and strides toward me. “How else do you expect me to react when my wife of seven fucking years tells me she’s cheating on me? Tell me!”

 “You can be mad. You can look at me differently or I don’t know, at all. But a cum bucket Toji? Really?” My voice breaks while tears watered down my cheeks. “When was the last time you touched me? Look at me. Said you love me? When was the last time, huh?”

 He sighs. “Y/N, you know I love you. Don’t say that.”

 “Do I?”

 “Unbelievable,” he mutters to himself. “You fucking cheat on ME and now you’re trying to flip this on me?”

 “No one’s flipping shit, Toji! I’m telling you why I did it. I’m not justifying my infidelity. It may sound like I am, but I’m not,” I tell him. “I just don’t feel like your wife anymore. This ring says we’re married, but how I feel says otherwise.”

 He shakes his head. “And what the fuck do you mean by having ? You’re still going to see this motherfucker?”

 I looked away. 

 That should answer him. 

 “Y/N. . . I’m going to leave now. I’ll be back when I feel like it, and when I do, I hope you reconsider the answer you just gave me before acting on it.” 

 I scrunched my brows together. “Are you— Are you threatening me? ”

 “Oh, no. Not you, sweetheart. Definitely not you.” Those were the last words he said to me before he walked out the door, slamming it so hard, a few of our frames falls to the tiled floor. 

 I know Toji. I’m very aware of his past and his threats are more like promises. I can’t help but stand there and think I should reconsider this affair because I don’t need to be the reason why someone gets killed. 

previous chapter | next chapter