#probably helps that the party consists of the following:

[cringefaecompilation]

were fearne calloway in any other fandom, her promiscuity and polyamory would be seen as massive flaws she needs to get over or would make people demonize her or make her out to be a nasty bitch that tries to steal everyone's boyfriends away. instead they welcome her with open arms and try to make all the men in her life look bad. which almost makes up for whatever the fuck people are saying about imogen and laudna

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Double Trouble

Yandere twins x childhood friend gn reader

Michael and Mica were polar opposites in personality despite their eerily similar appearance. Michael was soft spoken and kind while Mica was loud and boisterous. It wasn’t uncommon for Mica to be on your left and Michael to be on your right. They’ve always been your friends for as long as you could remember…

As the three of you got older, they became clingier. They were always at your house whether it was to walk to school with you or to complete homework, they were there. And it became much worse when you mentioned having a crush.

“I have a crush on Darren. I think he’s cute…” you had said on the first Tuesday of your senior year in college.

“Darren? The really quiet guy?” Mica furrowed his brow. “If you like quiet guys, don’t you think Michael is a better fit? Look at him?”

Mica squished Michael’s cheeks together and directed his face at you. A bright cherry blush on Michael’s face as he averted his gaze from you. “Isn’t Michael rather handsome too?”

You chuckled as you helped Michael out of Mica’s grips. “I never said Michael was ugly, you two have always been my friends… wouldn’t it be weird to only date one brother?” You brought up which made the twins become silent.

“Ah… I didn’t think about that.” Mica whispered, his eyes filled with stars. “So would you date both of us then?”

You quirked a brow. “Both of you?” Mica nodded his head while Michael blushed even more.

“Hmm… probably just one of you.”

Since you had said those words, you noticed a change in your friends. The twins were now always in a silent battle for your undivided attention on one of them.

They followed you to around to each of your college classes, both eager to be by your side. Mica babbled your ear off while Michael firmly held your hand. His cheeks aflame and his palms sweaty.

“You really think you could choose one of us? Isn’t two better than one?” Michael asked you with a smirk. “You wouldn’t want to break one of our hearts would you?”

It was so odd to be badgered by Michael every single day without fail. The blonde would constantly pick on you to pick one of them while Mica would hold onto you like a lifeline. The quiet male consistently reminded you of his presence as well.

It was at a college party filled with one too many cheap beers that you found yourself sprawled out with the two of them on either side of you. You were no doubt in their dorm room, whisked away in your tipsy state by Michael. Mica sat in front of you on his knees while Michael held your body from behind.

Mica’s lips were pressed firmly on the side of your neck while Michael’s hands slipped under your shirt. Your body felt as if it was burning from their fervent attention.

“How about we help you see things our way? We can make you feel good…” Michael chuckled at your dazed expression.

You sighed. It’s not like you really had an option at this point. These two weren’t going to leave you be until you accepted them both.

You helped Michael slip your shirt over your head as you grabbed Mica’s blonde curls to pull him into a kiss. If this was the way it was going to be, you might as well have your cake and eat it too.

[hoshifighting]

Workaholic!Joshua

— Synopsis: Joshua consistently skips happy hours or works overtime. You've tried to warn your friend countless times, but he didn't listen to you. As a result, it's no surprise that Joshua experienced a burnout on the office floor. — WC: 5.3k — WARNINGS: Smut, fluff, angst, office setting, fingering (f. receiving), clit stimulation, handjob, penetrative sex, a little bit of car sex, protected sex, dirty talk, flirty Joshua.

[Please be aware that the following text includes mentions of burn-out, collapse, fainting out, which may be a sensitive topic for some]

[Issue Club Serie]

You remember when you heard your manager talking about a job vacancy in the recruitment and selection sector. The name immediately stood out to you—Joshua. You studied with him in college, and you knew he would be perfect for the role.

The manager loved him. Joshua was charismatic, empathetic, and dedicated—everything the recruitment team needed. Every morning, he would thank you profusely, and at least twice a week, he would insist on buying you an overpriced coffee. It took some time for you to convince him that he didn't need to do this.

But there was something else you couldn't help but notice. The sheer number of job interviews Joshua had to lead, the late nights you'd see him at his desk with tired eyes, and how he always seemed a little lonely, even though the team welcomed him with open arms.

Joshua would rarely show up to the department's happy hours on Fridays or the company parties, and even then, he would only talk about work. There was no relief, no relaxation. You found yourself listening to him until the end of the night, as the rest of the team started to ask if he would even bother coming anymore, knowing he probably wouldn't.

You couldn't help but feel for Joshua. He was clearly passionate about his work, but at what cost? You watched as he isolated himself, unable to find that work-life balance that so many of us strive for. It made you wonder, what was driving him to push himself so hard, and at what point would the stress and loneliness become too much to bear?

As his friend, you couldn't help but worry about his well-being. You'd seen him cancel plans, skip social events, and even miss out on family gatherings, all in the name of his career. It was admirable, sure, but also concerning. 

You could consider reaching out, inviting him for a coffee or a quick chat. Maybe he just needed someone to listen and remind him that there was more to life than just work. 

But then again, who were you to judge? 

Everyone has their own path, their own motivations. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that Joshua was heading for a burnout. You wondered if there was a way to help him find a better balance without undermining his ambitions. It was a tricky situation, and you weren't sure how to approach it.

As you glance at the clock, the hands indicate it's already 3:35 pm. Your stomach growls, reminding you that you've been so absorbed in your work that you've skipped lunch. Deciding it's time for a much-needed break, you gather your phone and wallet, heading towards the exit of the department.

But just as you're about to leave, you spot Joshua, his fingers dancing across the keyboard in a blur of movement. You can't help but let out a small sigh, knowing he's likely putting in extra hours again. Turning around, you make your way over to his desk, standing beside him.

"Joshua, it's past 3:30. Don't you think it's time for a break?" you say, your voice laced with concern.

Joshua looks up, blinking a few times as he registers your presence. "Oh, hey Y/N. I'm just trying to get this report finished before the end of the day," he explains, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You can't help but smile at his dedication. "Come on, you've been working non-stop. Let's go grab a bite to eat across the street. My treat," you offer, hoping to coax him away from his desk.

Joshua hesitates for a moment, glancing back at his computer screen. "I don't know, Y/N. I really need to get this done..."

"It can wait, Joshua. You need to take a break and recharge," you insist, your tone gentle but firm.

With a sigh, Joshua nods and starts to gather his things. "Alright, you win. Let's go," he says, shrugging on his blazer.

You can't help but feel a sense of triumph as the two of you head towards the elevator. "So, how are the apprentice interviews going?" you ask. "They're going well, actually. The candidates are all so eager and eager to learn," Joshua replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You chuckle, nodding in understanding. "That's the best phase, but I hope they don't overwork themselves in the future, right Josh?" you say, casting him a knowing glance.

Joshua ducks his head, chuckling quietly. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you," he says, the hint of a smile still playing on his face.

As you step out into the bustling street, you feel the sun's warmth on your face, a pleasant contrast to the cold, sterile office. You turn to Joshua, a playful grin spreading across your face.

"Alright, Josh, here's the deal. If you talk about work during this break, you'll owe me an ice cream," you declare, wagging a finger at him.

Joshua laughs, a genuine sound that lightens the mood. "Deal. Though, to be honest, I'd buy you an ice cream anyway," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Don't you forget it. And remember, I'm serious," you say, trying to keep a straight face as you give him a mock-stern look.

Joshua raises his hands in surrender, still chuckling. "Alright, alright, I heard you loud and clear."

As you both find a cozy little café, the smell of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee envelops you. You choose a table by the window, and as you settle in with your meals, the casual chatter of other patrons creates a comforting background hum.

"Did you hear about the latest drama?" you begin, leaning in conspiratorially. "The director's wife found out he was cheating on her because her strawberry jam kept disappearing from the fridge—and the director doesn't even like strawberry jam!"

Joshua's mouth drops open, his eyes wide in disbelief. "No way. Seriously?" he exclaims, staring at you.

You nod, your face a picture of exaggerated exasperation. "Yup. She noticed it was going down way too fast and started putting two and two together."

Joshua shakes his head, still processing the story. "That's wild. You know, during the last interview I led, they actually put some strawberry jam on the table so the candidates would—" He stops abruptly as your glare pierces him. He laughs, holding up his hands again. "Sorry, sorry! No work talk, I remember."

You can't help but smile at his sheepish expression. "Thank you. So, back to the story. After she figured it out, she didn’t just confront him. Oh no, she went all out. She invited him to a romantic dinner, complete with candles and, of course, strawberry jam."

Joshua raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "And then what happened?"

You lean in closer, lowering your voice. "She waited until he took a bite of the dessert she made—some fancy strawberry tart. And then she calmly asked him if he enjoyed it as much as his 'office snacks.'"

Joshua bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his food. "No way! That’s brilliant. What did he do?"

You grin, enjoying his reaction. "He turned beet red and started stammering. She didn’t even wait for an explanation. She just got up, left the table, and moved out the next day. Took the jam with her too, just for good measure."

Joshua laughs so hard tears form in his eyes. "I can't believe it. That's some next-level pettiness. Good for her."

You noticed Joshua seemed more relaxed after your lunch together. He even managed a smile when you passed by his desk later that day. However, during the week, your attempts to repeat the lunch outing were met with resistance. Each time you invited him, he had a different excuse.

"Hey, Josh, want to grab some lunch today?" you asked on Tuesday, hoping to replicate the success of your last outing.

"Sorry, Y/N. I need to lead the apprentice interview," he replied, not looking up from his computer.

On Wednesday, you tried again. "How about lunch today? There is a pasta sale going on at the mall."

Joshua sighed, shaking his head. "I wish I could, but I need to filter the job applications. We're getting so many, and I need to find the best ones."

By Thursday, your frustration was evident, but you kept it in check. "Lunch today, Josh? You deserve a break."

"I'd love to, but I need to solve the issue with the employees' late salaries," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "It's causing a lot of stress for everyone."

Joshua was developing into someone who rarely took a break from his work. Today was Friday, and as you were leaving with your coworkers, all you wanted was to taste a cold beer and find some refuge from the rough week. The whole department was eager to hang out together, and the air was filled with energy.

You were refreshing your makeup at your desk as your coworkers trickled out, laughing and chatting. Glancing over, you saw Joshua standing by the printer, watching the curriculums pile up.

"Josh, you coming out with us tonight?" you called over, hoping to finally get him to relax.

He looked up, "I don't know, Y/N. I have these curriculums to go through, and then there's the report I need to finish."

Tired of trying, you sigh in defeat, the weight of your concern for Joshua pressing heavily on your shoulders. He notices, his eyes meeting yours briefly, but you turn away and walk out. You knew you didn't have the responsibility of checking on him every single time—it was his choice to work himself into exhaustion. But how could you not worry? He was a great friend, and the thought of him breaking down alone between the dividers of his desk was unbearable.

As you sip your beer, trying to enjoy the happy hour, the image of Joshua's lost eyes lingers in your mind. The laughter and chatter around you fade into the background as your thoughts drift back to him. After a few hours, the night winds down, and you remember you forgot your keys at the office. Debora, your coworker, offers you a ride back so you can retrieve them before heading home.

The office is dark and silent as you and Debora step inside, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. Only one light is turned on, casting a dim glow over a single desk. You immediately recognize it—Joshua's desk. But he isn't sitting there.

A sense of dread fills you as you approach, the cubicle dividers blocking your view. As you round the corner, you see him—Joshua, sprawled on the floor.

You gasp, rushing to his side. "Joshua!" you scream out, your voice trembling with panic. You carefully lift his head and place it on your lap, your hands shaking as you check for signs of consciousness. He's unresponsive, his face pale and drawn.

"Debora, call an ambulance!" you shout, your voice tight.

Debora fumbles with her phone, her fingers trembling as she dials. She quickly explains the situation to the operator and then rushes to find building security for additional help.

You gently shake Joshua, trying to rouse him. "Come on, Josh, wake up," you whisper urgently, but he remains still, his breathing shallow.

Minutes later, which feel like an eternity, the sound of sirens pierces the silence. The paramedics arrive, and you reluctantly let go of Joshua as they take over, assessing his condition and preparing to move him. You insist on riding with him to the hospital, unable to leave his side.

As the ambulance speeds through the city streets, you hold Joshua's hand, your heart pounding with worry. Outside the building, a few employees gather, watching the scene unfold with concern. You barely notice them, your focus entirely on Joshua, praying silently that he'll be okay.

You don't know exactly how many hours you've been by Joshua's side as he lies in the hospital bed. You watched the morning light grow brighter through the window, dozed off, woke up to find him still sleeping, went to the bathroom, and grabbed something from the cafeteria. When you return to his room, you see Joshua awake, a nurse measuring his blood pressure. An uncomfortable silence settles in as the nurse finishes up and leaves.

You sigh, walking next to him and turning your back to him.

"Are you mad at me?" Joshua asks, his voice still weak.

You shake your head, the words snapping out before you can stop them. "No, I'm letting you rest, since you don't do it yourself."

He sighs deeply, and you close your eyes, immediately regretting your harsh tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you this much trouble," he says softly.

You shake your head negatively, looking down. "I found you on the floor, Josh. The only reason I was there was because I forgot my keys. What if I hadn't come back?"

Joshua struggles, but he manages to reach out and catch your hand that is hanging by the bedside. His cold touch makes you glance at him. His eyes are full of exhaustion.

"Please, don't make me this worried again,"

Joshua squeezes your hand weakly. "I'll try, Y/N. I really will. I'm sorry for pushing myself so hard and for pushing you away. I didn't realize how bad it had gotten."

You nod "You don't have to do everything alone, you know. We're all here for you. I'm here for you."

He nods, his eyes glistening. "I know. And I appreciate it more than you know. I just... I need to find a better balance."

"Promise me you'll take it seriously this time," you say.

"I promise," he whispers, his grip on your hand tightening just a bit, weakly. "I'll take better care of myself."

You sit down next to him, your hand still in his. "Good. Because you can't go through that again."

You didn't like the rumors circulating around the office about Joshua while he was away. It bothered you to hear whispers about his collapse, especially since everyone in his department knew how hard he worked and yet pretended everything was fine. 

As the days passed, Joshua's desk slowly filled with Post-it notes and snacks, contributions from you and other departments. Joshua's sudden health scare was a wake-up call, touching more hearts than just yours.

When Joshua returned today, Friday, you watched from your desk as he walked in, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his desk. Messages of encouragement and little treats were piled high. 

His face goes red as he glances around, catching the subtle glances of his coworkers. They quickly return to their tasks, but you see the corners of their mouths twitching with barely concealed smiles.

He worked at his desk, and his department members spared him from taking on too much. As the windows started to show the darkening sky, some people had already left to go home. Unlike regular Fridays, there was no happy hour planned for tonight.

Seungkwan approached Joshua's desk, a concerned look on his face. "Hey, Josh, you should really think about not doing extra hours today."

Joshua shook his head, "I'm going to take it easy for now…" a small smile formed as he looked at you. "Also, I have a happy hour for two tonight, so no extra hours."

As his friends gave you sly glances and teased you with their smiles, you felt your cheeks blush.

"Looks like someone's got a date," Seungkwan said, grinning.

How did you two end up on a date? It started in the hospital. Joshua was still recovering, lying in bed, holding your hand. The room was quiet, the noise from machines was the only sound.

"How can you forgive me?" he asked, his voice soft.

You shook your head, a gentle smile on your face. "I'm not mad at you, Josh. But it would be cool if you took a break every now and then. Maybe we could go to a happy hour someday."

Joshua licked his lips, still holding your hand and giving it a weak squeeze. He looked up at you, all flirty. "Would you be open to having a happy hour with just you and me?"

You blinked, shocked. "What?"

He blushed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "Come on, it's so difficult for me to take a break. I'd love to have you as the motive for my breaks."

You scoffed, attempting to conceal the warmth that spread throughout your chest. "You should take breaks for your health and my sanity."

Joshua brushed his thumb against your hand, a playful grin grabbing at his lips. "Don't scold me, Y/N-nie, I'm sick," he teased.

You stared at him, a shocked smirk on your face. "You're taking advantage of me."

"Yes," he said, his smile growing. "Using the advantage, so you accept having an encounter with me."

The memory of that conversation makes you smile as you walk out of the office together, the evening air cool and refreshing. 

"So, where are we going for this happy hour?" you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Joshua chuckles, his eyes bright with excitement. "I thought we could try that new restaurant around the corner. I've heard good things."

You nod, feeling the tension of the week melt away. "Sounds perfect."

As you both enter the bar, the atmosphere is lively but not unpleasant. You find a cozy corner table and settle in, the soft murmur of conversation and clinking glasses creating a comfortable backdrop.

Joshua looks at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and something else that makes your heart skip a beat. "Thanks for convincing me to take a break."

You smile, raising your glass. "To more breaks and less stress."

He clinks his glass against yours, a genuine smile on his face. "To more happy hours with you."

After dinner, you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Joshua's car. The air is filled with a comforting silence, both of you soaking in the cozy warmth of the evening. As he pulls the car up in front of your house, you pause for a moment, your heart quickening in your chest as you struggle to gather the courage to look over at him.

Instead, you direct your gaze out the windshield, staring at the street ahead of you. The dim glow of streetlights paints the night in soft hues of orange, casting shadows on the quiet neighborhood.

"Do you want to come inside?" you ask, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Joshua turns your face toward his, his touch gentle as he lifts your chin with a soft touch. "You want me to go inside?" he enquires, his tone soft.

You nod, your gaze drawn to his mouth. "Yes."

"Then tell me," he teases, "what exactly are we going to do inside?"

You gulp, your mind racing. "We can... we can..." you stutter. You didn't have an answer on the tip of your tongue.

Joshua leans in close to you, his smile growing wider as he whispers against your skin, "I'm going to come inside, but go easy on me," he says, his breath warm and sultry, "I'm not quite recovered yet."

You shiver at his words. "What do you mean?" you ask, your voice still low and quiet as you look up at him.

"What do you think I mean?" he replies with a smirk, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "I mean," he murmurs, his mouth brushing against your ear as he speaks, "that you might have to take it slow with me."

"Slow? How slow?" You're whispering, not because you're afraid of being loud, it's because you're so horny that your voice is strained. 

Joshua's lips curve into a smirk as he sees the effect he's having on you. 

"Slow," he whispers back, his voice low and seductive. "Slow to the point where you feel yourself starting to drip."

He closes the gap between you, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours as his hands slide up your hips.

"Are you sure you want me to come inside?" he asks, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

Your mind could only focus on the two last words. Mind foggy. "Come inside?" 

Joshua widens his eyes slightly, then a cocky smile spreads across his face as he registers the double meaning of your words. "Hmm look at you, how nasty... I guess we can do this too..."

His lips crash against yours, no longer gentle but filled with urgency. His tongue delves into your mouth, exploring, tasting. You gasp, the wet noises so sultry inside his sleek car. His hands unclasp your seatbelt, and one slide from your knee to your thigh, slipping under your pencil skirt to feel the lacy panties you wore.

"Slowly, like this," he murmurs against your mouth, his voice too sultry.

His hand moves to the front of your panties, and you instinctively raise your hips as he pulls them down, discarding them onto the car's floor. The air inside the car starts to feel foggy, just like your senses, and your breathing becomes more rapid.

Joshua's hand returns to your now bare skin, his fingers teasing and exploring the wet folds of your pussy. You moan softly into his mouth, your body reacting to every touch. And slow, just like he said, he starts to circle your clit with his finger, making you instantly melt against the seat as you spread your legs wider for him.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and intense, filled with fascination as he watches your reactions. Your mouth can't correspond to the wet kisses anymore, your hips roll against his hand, your legs spasm as you try to keep them open, and your skirt rises, revealing your sopping cunt glistening.

You find yourself pushed back against the seat, your body arching as you grow more desperate for him. His eyes never leave yours.

“I can feel how much you want this.” 

You can only nod, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his fingers speed on your swollen bud. 

“So open, so needy.” he murmurs making you feel that sharp stitch in your belly一your horniness growing. 

His words make you moan, and he chuckles, his voice filled with a gloomy promise. “I want to hear more of that,” he says, his fingers teasing your entrance before slipping inside. You cry out, your body responding instantly to his touch, your head thrown back.

“Joshua,” you gasp, your hands clutching at his shirt as you try to ground yourself.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Yes, Y/N? Tell me what you need.”

“More,” you manage to say, your voice trembling, “I need more.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a fiery intensity. “More? I can give you more.”

With that, he increases the pace, his fingers moving inside you making the squelching wet songs, louder. He watches you so closely that you feel embarrassed; it is as if he reads everything about you and knows every secret you keep.  

“Every little touch, every little tease… you’re soaking it all up.” He coos, and you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer. 

You can only whimper in response, your body trembling with the need for release. He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. The taste of him, the feel of him, it’s all too much, and you can sense that you are nearing collapse.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he whispers against your lips. “Let go.”

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, your body convulsing against his leather seat. Joshua holds you through it, his touch possessive, trying to keep you still so you can feel the waves better. As you come down from the high, you find yourself panting, your body still trembling non-stop.

His fingers are soaked, glistening in the pale light. With a teasing grin, Joshua brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfied pop. You immediately turn your face to the window, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you try to straighten your skirt. His chuckle fills the car, rich and warm.

“Shy now, are we?” he teases, his voice low and playful.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your hands fumbling with the fabric of your skirt. But Joshua isn’t done with you yet. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “We can resume this inside. What do you think?”

You nod, finally daring to meet his gaze. He gives you a quick peck on the lips before stepping out of the car. You watch him circle around to your side, suppressing a laugh when he catches the glimpse of your knees trembling as you exit the vehicle.

“Did you get this horny?” he can't hide the amusement in his voice.

The walk to your front door feels like an eternity, your fingers fumbling with the keys as Joshua’s need becomes more apparent. He’s pressing his bulge against you, his hands roaming over your body as he kisses your neck, making it hard to focus on unlocking the door.

Finally, the door swings open, and you grab Joshua by the collar of his white shirt, pulling him inside. Your mouths collide in a desperate kiss, his hands clutching your hips as you stumble toward the bedroom. You don’t care about the noise or the awkward angles; all that matters is the friction among you, the urgent need to be closer.

With outstretched arms, you brace yourself against the wall, your body arching toward his as he presses against you. His hands are everywhere—sliding under your blouse, unhooking your bra, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. You moan into his mouth, your hands clutching at his hair while you're absorbed by the feeling.

“Bedroom,” you manage to gasp, your voice breathless and needy.

Joshua’s response is a low growl, his hands gripping your waist as he guides you through the hallway. You barely make it to the bed before you’re pulling at each other’s clothes, the fabric tearing in your haste to be free of it. His shirt falls to the floor, followed by your skirt, his pants, your blouse—until there’s nothing between you but skin and heat.

He pushes you gently onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kisses you sloppy. His hands continue their search, teasing, caressing, making you frantic with need. You arch against him, your fingers digging into his back as you pull him closer.

His cock lays heavily against your belly, a warm, wet spot forming on your skin from his precum. You grab his throbbing length, feeling it pulse under your touch. Joshua shudders, moaning needily against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and adding to your own arousal.

Your hand collects the sticky lubrication, spreading it along its entire length. You begin to stroke him, your other hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. His eyes flutter open, trying to stay locked on yours as you speed up your strokes. His gasps and whimpers alimented your hunger, making you feel yourself oozing more and more.

At a certain point, he lets out a high-pitched squeak, hiding his face in your neck. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice strained and desperate.

You close your eyes, the heat of his breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Open this drawer," you murmur, nodding towards the bedside table.

Joshua extends his arm, fumbling slightly as he opens the drawer and finds a couple of condoms. He picks one up, glancing at you with a teasing smile. "Always prepared, huh?" he says, tearing open the shiny packet.

His hands move with such practiced ease that it makes your breath catch when you watch him slide the rubber down his length. His cock looks even more inviting now, sheathed and ready for you.

He positions himself at your entrance, pausing for a moment to look into your eyes. Slowly, he pushes inside, filling you inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, your pussy stretching to accommodate him. Joshua’s groan is deep and throaty, his hands gripping your hips as he bottoms out.

For a moment, neither of you moves, so you adjust to his side, but thankfully his fingers prepared you well in his car. Then, he begins to thrust, his pace is slow at first, his eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction, his ears alert to your every moan, and every wet sound from your stretched little cunt.

You arch your back, meeting his thrusts, your hands clutching his shoulders. “Faster, Joshua,” 

He complies, his pace quickening, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The room is filled with the sex sounds—the slap of skin against skin, the mingled moans and gasps, the creaking of the bed. You feel yourself climbing higher, the knot on your belly desperately wanting to blossom.

Joshua’s rhythm falters for a moment, his grip on your hips tightening. “I’m close,” he whispers, his voice strained.

“Me too,” you reply, your nails digging into his back.

Joshua takes his cock out of you, positioning himself a little further back before slamming all the way in again. The sudden movement makes you grab his forearm, while his other hand lays on your belly. Each thrust is powerful, hitting that perfect, spongy spot inside you that makes you sob with pleasure. You grow tighter around him with every second, the stimulation driving you both wild.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

"Am I?" you manage to gasp between his thrusts.

"Absolutely," he praises, his words going straight to your core. "You're so tight, so wet. You're perfect for me."

The praise sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch your back and cum for him. Joshua smiles at the sight of you unraveling beneath him—Your legs try to close instinctively, but his hips keep them wide apart. Your eyes roll back, your pussy gushing as your fingers curl around the headboard.

He finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing it just as your orgasm peaks. It shatters you, making you curse.

"Fuck, Joshua! You're so deep... don't stop... please, don't stop. God, you're going to make me cum again."

"You're so fucking tight," he groans, his pace quickening. "I can feel you squeezing me. You're gonna make me cum so hard."

"Keep cumming for me, baby," he whispers, his own voice shaking.

His moans grow louder, his pace more frantic. Your dirty talk pushes him to the brink, and with a final, powerful thrust, he cums hard. His loud moaning, combined with the sensation of his cum filling the condom, makes your head spin.

Joshua leaves you shaking for the second time that evening, fully exhausted and completely satisfied.

Joshua falls on his side beside you, his breaths coming hard and fast. You can't help but tease him, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Are you going to faint here too? Should I call an ambulance? After all, you weren’t as slow as you said you would be."

He laughs, his chest heaving. "I’ve got enough energy to fuck you all night if you want to, leave your bed all drenched," he says, kissing your cheek and playfully slapping your clit, making you shudder.

"All night, huh?" you tease back, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Big talk for someone who just collapsed next to me."

Joshua grins, his eyes sparkling. "You doubt me?"

"I’m just saying," you reply, your tone playful. "Maybe you should pace yourself. I wouldn’t want you passing out on me."

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’m not going anywhere. And if you think that was all I’ve got, you’re in for a surprise."

You chuckle, your fingers dancing down his stomach. "Promises, promises," you whisper, your hand inching closer to his now half-hard cock. "Let’s see if you can keep up."

Joshua groans, his body responding to your touch. "You’re going to regret challenging me," he murmurs.

"Bring it on," you whisper back.

[loafgeto]

FREAKS — 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. kamo choso

synopsis | at your university, choso is a student one would normally not associate with. however, you— a popular, attractive, and smart student can’t seem to disagree with that.

contents | fem!reader, no curses au, explicit language, college au, small lore, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, deep penetration, squirting, creampie, overstimulation, breaking the bed (somewhat), pet names

word count | 3.4k

notes | i’ve been craving choso content lately so here it is

“are you guys going to the party tonight? i heard that dude naoya is hosting it,” one of your friend’s mention. it’s a friday night, you all were walking out from the library and back towards your sorority hall just five minutes away— after a long and busy week of classes, clubs, activities, homework and assignments, it was finally time to celebrate the start of the weekend with a party.

“naoya’s pretty hot, don’t you think? his rude attitude strikes off five points, but he’s fuckable,” another one of your friend’s reply, earning several snickers from the other girls. “but he only wants to fuck [name] though,” she adds on as they all turn their eyes to you, but you weren’t even paying attention to anything they were chatting about.

your eyes were glued to your phone, messaging someone with a small grin and your friends exchanged quick glances. with a gentle tap on your shoulder, you finally shift your gaze to your friend beside of you. with an awkward stance, you place your phone screen against your chest.

“what’s wrong?” you question, blinking several times. your friends acknowledged this behavior of yours several months ago, they questioned frequently at the beginning— however this occurred consistently, and they stopped pestering since you never gave them a specific answer on what’s causing you to smile and distract you. “oh nothing. just wondering if you’re gonna go to the party tonight,” one of your friend’s reply.

“party?” you repeat— shortly recalling to the moment when one of the boys from a fraternity verbosely conveyed about another frat hosting a party to you in your calculus class. though, you briefly listened and didn’t continue to listen to the rest of what he was saying. but you already made plans for the night, so attending this party was never an option. “probably not, geto-sensei wants me to attend his 7pm lab. and as his teaching assistant, i can’t say no.”

“ahh, right right. but why not come the last hour?”

“that’s only if i feel energized enough,” you reply, flashing your friends a smile but of course, it indicates as an absolute no— since your plans may cause you to spend the night somewhere else. by the way, you weren’t actually going to attend professor geto’s lab, he didn’t even have one scheduled for friday’s. your friends just naturally believed it since you’re always a helping aide to him.

as your eyes weren’t directed ahead, you couldn’t detect another group of students walking in the opposite direction towards you and your friends— your shoulder collides with another student’s, someone taller, more muscular and could cause you to nearly stumble back but instead, it’s your phone slipping past your hand.

you gasp, eyes immediately following after your phone. as you were about to reach it before it fell, the other person you bumped into snatches it. your heart nearly stopped, in relief that your phone didn’t drop flat to the concrete ground beneath. you hear your friends take a quick breath and begin whispering upon the scene.

your eyes raise to meet the empty gaze of choso kamo, a relatively known student at your university. your phone is in his hands, secured and safe, however, none of that matters.

“your phone,” choso speaks— his voice sending immediate chills down your spine. you weren’t afraid of him, but his demeanor and attitude spikes dominance over you, threatening you— and you didn’t dare to look in his eyes any longer.

“thank you..” you quietly share your gratitude as you reach for your phone and quickly scatter away with your friends.

as you’re leaving, you can feel choso’s icy gaze following you and not once did you look back.

“you gotta get a new phone, [name],” one of your friends utter as you all reached the area of your sorority.

“what? i just got this phone, you know it’s not cheap,” you reply at an instant, sighing after as you all reach the steps of the large building. your friend chuckle, setting her hands on her hips.

“what? you’re saying you want the freak’s germs on it?”

“this isn’t middle school, and besides— he saved my phone from falling and potentially getting damaged,” you reply, as if you’re defending him, but your friends can’t continue to argue since he practically did do what you just said. “anyways, i have to get ready to go to professor geto’s lab. have fun at the party,” you add, passing through your friends to enter the house first.

you reach your room and step in, immediately shutting the door behind of you.

to begin with, why was choso called a freak? well, you attend a small, private, and prestigious university that has 3,000 students maximum. it’s perfect for the kids who are born in wealthy families, have excellent education and grades, and are worthy to present the school with honor. in the eyes of the public, the school is perfect— but nearly every student isn’t.

parties, drugs, and sex happen— per usual at every university, though information doesn’t normally spread across due to reputations.

choso just happens to enter the school due to the fact that he’s the chairman’s son, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t smart— in fact he is. choso, along with several of his freaky friends, run around campus not necessarily giving a damn about anyone or anything. they attend class of course, maintain grades and whatever like a normal student.

you never engaged with him as much, no one really wanted to. you don’t know what he did to earn his reputation, given that he’s two years older than you— but you’ve always heard it’s because he mumbles weird syllables in class, sometimes stares at a wall and hysterically laughs, or something similar to what a psychopath would do. it didn’t make anything easier because of the mark tattooed on his face. even so, you didn’t necessarily believe the rumors— as, you had to find out yourself, right?

when your friends leave for the party, you’re left completely alone. well, you make sure you’re alone before slipping back into your room— switching out your pairs of underwear and bra into something more laced, expensive and revealing. you throw on a small tight skirt and a shirt that just perfectly shapes your boobs. after retouching your makeup and hair, you looked like you were going to a party.

but of course you weren’t, and you put on a large jacket and a mask, not wanting anyone you know to see you in such clothes— after claiming you’re going to a lab lecture.

now, recalling to when you had to find out the rumors of choso yourself— it eventually happened, several months ago. you fortunately slipped into a small class with him and after a months observation, you came to conclusion that he’s completely normal. just a laid-back, stoic and bored dude who just wants to leave class, like all of the other students.

your impressions on him eventually changed when you became partners with him on a project.

from there, it was history.

“c-choso.. slow down~” the soft pitch of your mewls ring choso’s ears like a melody, arousing him to curl and thrust his fingers faster into your wet and needy cunt. he groans, feeling you squeeze around them as you’re kneading your nails into the his back muscles.

clothes discarded and scattered on the floor of his room, you’re laid back on the mattress of his bed, legs pushed apart so that choso’s between them and allowing him to insert his fingers into you easier. your moans whirring in the room, merging with the dirty sounds of your pussy yearning inches of him even more.

“the sound of your voice doesn’t seem to want me to slow down,” choso replies in a low purr, sending vibrations to your core, causing you to pulsate around his fingers. he presses gentle kisses against your ear, down towards your neck as he digs his fingers deep, coating them with your slickness. “how does this pretty girl want it tonight?”

“fuck- rough, tonight choso. need you s’bad after this week.. missed your touch so so much,” you reply, pulling him close to you as much as you could, trying to enclose the space between you both. you feel choso’s warmth all over you, yet you crave for more.

most people wouldn’t expect you to be begging to choso the freak, hardly anyone would— however, they didn’t know choso like you did. they didn’t know how good he is at sex— they didn’t know how much pleasure and satisfaction he brought to you, more than any other guy has. when they say he’s a freak, he definitely is a freak.

“sure about about that? sure you’re missing my touch? weren’t you just being touchy with those guys earlier at the library?” choso remarks with a grin, slipping his wet fingers out and circling your sensitive clit with his middle finger.

“t-they were just partners for a project!” you reply, a short moan following after as he pushes his fingers back into you.

“partners? do your partners usually stare at your ass and tits? what about the shoulder touches and head pats? did you like that? is that apart of the project?” choso’s trivial questions have you squint a puzzled look at him— was he serious right now? your expression of disbelief only causes him to chuckle, and of course, he’s joking for the matter.

“i only think about you- choso,” you choke out the response as you feel him rub the pad of his fingers against your g-spot, stimulating your climax at a gradual pace. the movements of his fingers have your mind stirring towards another thought, squeezing around them in order to sink them into you deeper. choso teases your clit again with his thumb, smiling at your reactions.

“do you?”

“yes—”

your words are interrupted as choso fastens his pace, knuckles slapping against your wet folds and creating lewd, wet noises in the room. you can’t even respond to his words properly because you’re so focused on the addictive pleasure, and choso’s using that as an opportunity to tease you.

“how much do you think about me? i want to know,” choso hums against your ear, and you can imagine a wide grin on his lips as he speaks.

“so, so much, choso. i imagine you fucking me every day—” your replies are so filthy and unimaginable— no one could ever guess you or anyone to be saying this to choso. but your words are genuine, you think about the man a lot, more than you anticipated. during the night, you can’t help but touch yourself, imagining choso pleasing you just like now. the amount of times you almost got caught moaning his name was innumerable.

“is that right?” choso whispers and leans to give you a kiss, a rough kiss. pressing his tongue against yours and moving his lips as if he’s devouring you. he’s uncertain if your words are genuine, but at that moment, it didn’t matter whether it was or not— he just liked to hear it.

of course, choso didn’t expect himself to be in situation like this— especially with you: a smart, diligent and popular student who has loads of friends, and dozens of men chasing after. he figured the attraction started when you both had class together, and eventually grew into you two fucking. choso didn’t complain though, besides: once you both finish college, you two will never cross paths again.

“choso- please, fuckfuck- ‘m about to cum-” you cry out when your lips parted, faint tears glossing your eyes. the erotic noises of your pussy and your moans mix, before you feel your legs tremble and your toes curl. you orgasm to satisfaction, squirting all over choso’s bed and hand when he pushes his fingers out.

the air feels heavy as your heart pounds, mouth gasping for breath. you didn’t even realize how much you came, and even choso was surprised with it. he smiles slightly, watching as you’re in a short daze. and when you look up at him, you see him already positioning his hard, thick pre-cum spilt cock at your entrance.

“w-wait choso, i’m still sensitive-”

but your words are in vain when choso pushes his cock into your cunt, instantly spreading your sensitive walls and causing you to reach another orgasm. you gasp, feeling choso fill your hole as he pushes your legs back further, putting you in a mating press position.

“my girl wanted it rough tonight, didn’t she?” choso says, already beginning to thrust hard at a moderate pace. your moans echo as a response to his words, walls clenching around him when you hear my girl.

choso lowers himself down, grunting softly as he sways his hips forcefully, slamming his cock into your pussy before having a hand wrapped around your neck. you feel a squeeze as his thrusts quicken, and chokes of moans falls from your mouth. his bare cock was fucking into you deep, rubbing every spot of your gummy walls and stimulating you towards your next high.

by now, anyone beyond the walls of the room could hear the moans and cries you were making, but it wasn’t like you two cared about it or the consequences.

as of now, choso was roughly pounding into you. a hand still around your neck as the other is pressing hard against the mattress, his hips thrusted quickly, creating loud sounds of skin slapping. you feel your core tightening, twisting from the amount of times he has already made you cum. the bed shook slightly underneath you and the frame nearly was railing against the wall.

your arms that were once around him had dropped above your head as your mind slowly starts to fog and thoughts no longer processed, aside from choso and the current moment. the mewls and other erotic sounds were reaching a higher pitch, and a knot was quickly forming in your stomach.

“choso- i’m gonna-” the warning was interrupted as choso’s cock grinds against your sensitive g-spot, making you cum at an instant. your short cry was muffled when choso presses his lips against yours, capturing your sounds into his mouth.

the night lead towards choso repeatedly making you cum with the rough pounding of his cock, and you couldn’t fathom the amount of times you came. the man hadn’t even came yet, as if he was saving it for the very end.

now lying on your chest, choso had lifted your hips towards his as he slips his cock in and out of you from behind. your loud cries and moans sink into the mattress as choso presses your face down against the material of his bed, grasping his hand around the strands of your hair and grunting along each thrust.

the sounds became sloppy, dirtying the bed that choso would have to clean again, and the smell of sex filled up the entire room.

“shit, princess—” choso moans when he feels you pulsate around him each time you came. he nudges his fingertips into the fat of your ass, possibly marking the skin. however, you’re unable to formulate words as he’s overstimulated you to an extent, your moans and the calls of his names only told him how you felt that moment: addicted to his cock. “that’s right, fucking take it.”

“choso.. fu-fuck,” you sob into the mattress, tears rolling down your cheeks as you feel him penetrate the deepest parts of your pussy. his hips slam against your ass harshly, sending stinging sensations throughout your entire body. “i can’t.. it feels s’good..”

“yeah, it does huh, baby?” choso cooed, caressing the side of your ass, watching as your uncontrollable moans proceed to fall out. “so good that you’re forgetting about everyone else?”

“ngh.. huh..” was all you could respond, it may look pathetic to be in a state like this— however, choso just knows how to make your mind flurry with so much thoughts that it blocks your focus of the outside world.

“i guess that’s a yes then,” choso smiles, pushing your head down further against the mattress as he abuses your hole with his cock. the bed frame continued colliding against the wall, creating louder creaking sounds as if the bed was about to break apart with how rough he was fucking you.

your eyes roll back as the ecstasy pumps through your veins, enough to make you cum again and again. it was too much to handle as much as it felt good, and choso wasn’t intending to stop anytime soon. he can see how much of a mess he’s made you, drunk all over his cock as usual.

choso never interacted with anyone on campus besides his siblings— only times happened to be during group projects or discussions, but they always ignored him each time. honestly, he didn’t even know where his reputation came from. maybe it was the fact that he had a tattoo on his face, but he did that out of spite of his father. however, he didn’t think it’d lead to people thinking he was some criminal or bad luck.

when he partnered up with you during a project, he thought you would just leave him to do it by himself and join another group. but you actually reached out to him and asked for his number, wanting to work on the project together like a normal partner. of course, he was surprised, that a girl like you would approach him despite the rumors.

the day you two shared a kiss and had sex for the first time on his bed, choso knew he had became addicted just as much as you’ve became addicted.

you two fucked anywhere and anytime you could: the backseat of his car, your sorority house’s kitchen, the gender neutral bathroom in the library, and even behind the bleachers in a field. even through all that, you two pretend not to know each other when crossing paths on campus. you’re in your own world, and he’s in his own.

but lately, choso couldn’t hold back the feeling of just claiming you as his. it was impossible to stop these lingering feelings he’s trying to hard to bottle up.

“fuck- i’m gonna cum, baby,” choso groans as his body slightly slumps over yours.

“cum in meee. please, choso-” you manage to beg out, gripping around him and trying to milk him dry with your cunt. “it’s my safe day— please—”

“anything for my girl,” choso replies, eyes lowering to his cock that coated with your wetness— slipping in and out repeatedly at a maintaining rough pace. his pace caused the bed to creak even louder, and a sharp snapping sound is heard— but neither of you pay attention. “gonna fill your pussy all the way up then, ‘kay? take it all like a good girl. and you better not waste it.”

“n-never! mm- choso!” you couldn’t stop crying out his name as your hands grabbed the sheets when he pounds his heavy load into you.

as choso groans, his warm cum spills into your baby room, milking the walls and filling you entirely. your eyes roll back, mouth open to heave air. your body shook and choso pulls out shortly after, sitting back and gasping for air.

you both watch as his cum slowly leaks out from your swollen pussy and streams down your thighs.

it becomes silent between the two of you, but your eyes lock shortly after and choso grabs a tissue box nearby to wipe the remaining cum streaming on your thighs.

“ch-choso…” you murmur as your body sinks into the bed, now, something felt odd.

“what is it?” choso questions when he tosses the tissue to the trans can near by and he climbs over you. he kisses your cheek, then down your jaw and back towards your lips. it was a sensual kiss, shared between two people who were slowly developing feelings for each other.

“i think.. we broke the bed,” you reply as he pulls inches away.

“oh, so that’s the sound i heard earlier.”

“what the fuck are you gonna say to the ra’s? you know these bed frames were new this year too! they might cost a lot of money..” you spat, giving choso a look of hesitation and concern. but he only chuckles before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you pout.

“i’ll just tell them two freaks were fucking.”

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: hello dear readers, i apologize for so much delays, but i promise im getting back into writing again! i’ll be working on more content and publishing fics, so look out for those 🤭

[eevees-hobbies]

Hiya! Could I please request the wind breaker boys, bofurin & shishitoren reactions to the reader in a sexy Halloween costume at a party? (Possibly a sexy bunny girl, but any sexy costume really 💜)

Author’s Note: Anon, you’re wild for thinking about Halloween this early! But I get; I’m a spooky girlie, too. Or am I off base, and Halloween is just an excuse to dress like a bunny girl? Anyway, I enjoyed writing this! I might do a part 2 with more characters as we get closer to Halloween. Here are some reactions and scenarios to your costume!

Content Warning: Um, tis smutty. Thigh-fucking, making out, groping in public, sex in a residence that isn’t yours, nipple licking, mention of face-fucking, jealousy, cumshot, public humiliation, masturbation. 

Word Count: 2.2K

Divider by Saradika. Story banner by me.

Haruka Sakura

You swore you told Sakura what you planned to wear at the Halloween party. Maybe you were a little non-descriptive when you said you were going to wear a bunny outfit, leaving out the fact that the neckline dipped so low that there was a potential of your breasts falling out of the top or how your “bottoms” consisted of only thigh high fishnet stockings.

When Sakura saw you from across the party, he stopped mid-conversation with Suo, who followed Sakura’s line of sight and let out a whistle when he saw you.

“Wow, Sakura. I had no idea you were so secure in your relationship that you’d let Y/N wear something so revealing. I don’t think I–oh,” Suo couldn’t finish his sentence because Sakura was shoving people in the crowd just to get to you. 

As Suo watched his friend part a sea of people with his palms to their faces, he couldn’t help but smirk. “Maybe I instigated that a little.”

As you raise your hand to give a friend a wave, Sakura grips your wrist and pulls you into the nearest room. Your eyes can barely adjust to the darkness, but based on the smell of oil and what you believe to be an outline of the roof of a car, you realize that you’re in the homeowner's garage. The sound of the door locking echoes ominously behind you. If this were any other situation, you’d probably scream, but somewhere in the darkness is Sakura, and there’s nothing to worry about, right?

You reach out in an attempt to touch him–hoping to grab a hand or bicep–but you only feel a firm grip on your shoulders and being turned around, forcibly bent over with your face against the hood of the car.

“Why’d you have to wear something so fucking slutty?”

“W-wha?! Sakura?!” you try to move from underneath him, but his hand against your lower back is unwavering. You hear the sound of pants unzipping, “Kitten, there’s no way you're going to be able to put your dick in me. This thing is so tight against my crotch–”

“Who said I want your pussy,” he grumbles. You hear him spit into his palm before he places two thumbs against the exposed flesh of your thighs and spreads them. Sakura’s body tenses up as he slips his dick in between your inner thighs, his head practically swimming at how warm and soft they are.

You can’t help but place a hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh as your boyfriend ruts against your thighs, and you would have kept laughing if not for the feeling of his cock rubbing against the crotch of your outfit. The friction against your clit has you biting your lip and bouncing back against him because fuck, maybe he’s onto something?

Ren Kaji

“What are you supposed to be?” Kotoha asks you as she tilts her head, eyes sweeping over your not-so-halloween outfit. You’re wearing a gray hoodie, black skinny jeans, and your boyfriend's Bofurin jacket. Your hand reaches up instinctively to touch the headphones around your neck–a sudden habit you’ve developed during the night to make sure they're still snug and in place.

“I’m dressed as Ren. Can’t you tell?”

You had been wearing a bunny outfit earlier that night, but as you exited the bathroom in your home and did a twirl for Kaji, ears flopping up and down as you bounced, you quickly realized that you might need to consider a new outfit.

Kaji looked over you with unbridled lust and a hint of jealousy pooling in his eyes. He can mentally see how his friends will drink you in tonight. The idea of them lusting after you, thinking about fucking you, and even touching themselves to the thought of you has the sucker in his mouth breaking against clenched teeth.

He can see Tsugeura pretending to squeeze past you by putting his large, muscly hands on your curvy hips, his crotch so close to your ass you’d feel the bulge rubbing against your exposed cheeks. 

He can see Kiryu sweetly asking to take a picture of your outfit, placing an arm around your shoulders, a hand leisurely placed in between the valley of your breasts, a finger brushing against the spot in your outfit where he knows your nipple is straining against the fabric.

“Give us a pretty smile for the gram, sweetie!” That very picture no doubt being used for nefarious activities that night. 

“No.”

You wrap your arms across your chest, fully intending to stand your ground, “No?” You let out a breathy laugh but pause when his mouth doesn’t give way to a smile. 

“Absolutely not. Go change.” His voice is smooth, as if there’s no room for argument, and with Kaji, there really isn’t.

He was serious! 

“I don’t understand?”

“Let me show you what my friends will fantasize about doing to you when they see you dressed like that. Get on your knees.” 

You bite your lip, briefly considering disobeying, but when Kaji gives an order, you better listen, or else you’ll end up with a sore ass. Without breaking eye contact–though your heart is stuttering in your chest–you do what a smart girl does and get on your knees for your boyfriend.

And Kaji didn’t feel an ounce of remorse when he slipped his dick past your pretty lips and rested heavily on your eager tongue. 

He didn’t feel an ounce of remorse when his dick was so far down your throat that drool was dripping down and landing on your splayed-out thighs below you, splattering against the opening in your fishnets. 

He certainly didn’t feel remorse when he gritted his teeth as his balls clenched violently, and he pulled your head back by those silly bunny ears and came on your chest and, in extension, your Halloween costume–effectively ruining it.

You gave him an earful for how petty and ridiculous he was, but he simply put a sucker in his mouth and stared at you with a glint of humor behind his blue eyes, pleased with himself.

As Kotoha nods and looks your “Ren Kaji” outfit up and down, you can feel eyes boring into the back of your head. You turn and catch Kaji's gaze from across the room; unsurprisingly, he still has that same pleased look.

Jo Togame

You squirm restlessly in the lap of Togame. Since you arrived at the party, he hasn’t let you out of his sight.  

As soon as he laid emerald eyes on you, those eyes slowly appraising your body from head to toe, all his attention was on you and only you. “Do a little spin for me, beautiful?” he crooned while imitating the spinning gesture with a finger.

You were more than happy to oblige for him because good bunny girls listen! You spun around, enjoying the hungry look you were getting from him and his Shishitoren buddies.

“Yeaaaah, I need a closer look.” He points to his lap, a seat you’re all too familiar with. You must not have been moving fast enough as you approached him because he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his waiting lap.

Through the night, he continued to hold conversations with friends and sip at his bottle of ramune, all while your ass lives plastered against his crotch. As you squirm, his arm around your shoulders only pulls you in more, and he shoots you a smile.

“Hey, can you all give me a minute with my girl?”

You relish in his words as his friends shuffle off elsewhere and Togame turns his attention to you. 

“I hope you know what this costume is doing to me.”

Of course, you know what the costume is doing to him. You’ve been sitting on something long, thick, and ridiculously hard all night.

You look at him through your eyelashes and bite your lip as he places a hand on your breast in front of partygoers and kisses you, all while keeping you in his lap. It feels sinful to be so publicly obscene, and you can hear mumbles and murmurs from around you as his tongue slides into your mouth and his hand squeezes the flesh of your breast, fingers dancing over the exposed tops of them that are being pushed out of the corset.

He pulls away and tilts his head towards the door, “Wanna get out of here? I have plans for this costume.”

And you can’t put a perfectly good bunny costume to waste, can you? No, you can’t.

Hajime Umemiya

I’m sorry for all you toxic-love enthusiasts out there, but Ume is as wholesome as they come. Every Halloween, you two take immense care and consideration in picking out matching outfits. You are the epitome of #couplegoals. And after weeks of sending back-and-forth links to costumes, you finally agreed upon the perfect ones. 

Sugishita stares at the halo around Umemiya’s head and nods in complete agreement–yes, of course, he’s an angel. It fits perfectly, he thinks to himself.

“Water, Ume?” You walk up behind him, offering him a bottle of water. Umemiya is shirtless except for feathery white wings that are strapped around his chest. At the last minute, he decided to keep it simple with white pants and a black belt. You are dressed as his inverse, the angel to his devil with horns and a tail. 

You take a minute to admire his shirtless figure, broad shoulders, and freshly healed scratches from the night before, which puts a bit of a dopey smile on your face. The muscles in his strong back shift as he turns to look at you with a grin upon hearing your voice.

“Baby girl! There you are! I was just telling Sugishita that you should have been the angel since I think it fits you more.

You shake your head, smiling, “I like playing the devil. Don’t you think that’s more fitting for me, Sugishita?”

Sugishita looks between you both, nodding furiously at his favorite person’s favorite person.

And as the night draws to a close and you’re both helping the homeowner clean up after the party, you can’t help but push Umemiya into the closet, closing the door behind you.

And you might be the one who instigates the first move, but he’s the one who pushes you against the wall in return, your body sinking into the clothes on the coat rack. 

“Ume, you’ve looked like a snack all night.”

“Yeah? I wouldn’t mind you taking a bite out of me.” he shivers as your fingers trace his nipples. He’s always been sensitive there, and you’ve always been quick to take advantage of that.

“I think we should keep these outfits for a little roleplaying, no?” Your tongue darts out and traces the curvature of his nipple, earning you a whimper and “Oh, fuck” from Ume’s lips.

He looks down at you, already making quick work of removing the red corset around your midsection. “How much time do you think we have before they realize we’re in the closet?”

You smile and kiss his jaw, “Maybe 7 minutes if we’re quiet?”

“When have I ever allowed you to be quiet?”

Fuck, he has a point.

Hayato Suo

You had no idea what you were planning to wear to the costume party, so when Suo offered to help you find an outfit, you happily accepted.

You’re a glutton for punishment, I suppose.

Suo knew precisely what he was doing. With the deliberate actions of a sociopath, Suo ordered your costume early but chose not to say anything to you. It wasn’t until you glanced at the calendar that your eyes widened at the encroaching date circled in red marker. 

“Suo! I still don’t have a costume, and the party is in two days!”

“Ooh,” he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I told you I’d handle everything. I already have something picked out specifically for you.”

You were overtaken with relief. Suo always had a plan; you knew he wouldn’t disappoint you. At least that’s how you felt before he brought out the most revealing bunny costume you’d ever seen.

And to be honest, you weren't even sure they sold this version of the costume in regular stores. But what were you going to do? The party was in two days, and if you wanted to go shopping for a costume, you’d have no option but to pick from the leftovers, and you’d end up dressed like the Kool-Aid man. No, thank you!

You took the costume, eyes drilling into the most revealing of spots. “What’s your costume, Suo?”

“I don’t do costumes, but if anyone asks, I’ll tell them I’m your handler, sweet bunny girl.”

Two days quickly come and go, and as you enter the party with Suo walking so close behind you, you can feel the heat from his body on your exposed back; eyes stop and stare at you, and Suo drinks every interaction in as though he’s using it as foreplay until he can finally get you alone and underneath him. 

For now, he watches in delight as you make all of his friends so uncomfortable with your jiggly thighs, bouncy ass, and flushed cheeks.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

࣪ ˖✧ Sweet Coffee

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: The morning after Sean's return party, a sheepish Arthur faces the consequences of his drinking excess. ✦ Warnings: None, this is as fluffy as the first part. ✦ Words: 3,9k ✦ a/n: This is a sequel of this one shot! Please, read it before this one :) Also, I've taken the liberty to write this as if Arthur still had Boadicea, to me it was the best way to make him have a canon horse. Gonna think about a better solution in the future.

You opened your eyes, slowly. The ceiling of your tent was turning a bit, your heart feeling like it was on the verge of leaking out of your chest. It was as if your bed was a boat, pitching with the winds and the waves; you had to prevent yourself from throwing up, a spinning sensation making your guts feel rancid.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You thought to yourself while stretching in your cot, every fiber of muscles in your body feeling worn. Your brain was mushy, unable to form any complex reflection, your forehead hurting, your mouth dry. The consequence of every party; the goddamn hangover.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You slowly sat at the edge of your bed, taking the time to move your tired members, realizing your throat was extremely sore. You probably sang a little too much last night. You get up and walk to the little cleaning area of your tent which consisted of only a simple table topped with a little mirror, a bucket of water, and a solitary towel. Nothing fancy, but at least you had your own tent, which was already a grand luxury at camp.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You take long sips of water from the bucket before cleaning up your face, looking at it in the mirror. Of course, under your eyes, big shady circles, sickles of violet darkness under the sharp radiance of your pupils. It was part of the whole hangover package. You quickly fixed your hair and put on some fresh clothes, mindlessly.

Coffee, breakfast, Arthur.

Wait, what? You thought you were going on with your morning routine thoughtlessly, but here he was. Always following you, a shadow in the back of your mind; his stupid smile like imprinted on the obscure abyss of your psyche, shining, blazing, magnificent. Haunting.

You were thinking about him very often lately, maybe too often, you noted to yourself. John's word had sealed your opinion's fate on the matter: Arthur could have behaved that way with any other girl at camp.

And yet. Yet you longed for it, for last night to mean something, anything. For you to be more than just any girl to him. For the drunken honest words he had spoken before drifting away in the sweet caress of sleep to be true. You sighed. Too much false hope would lead your heart to be even more broken, you knew it.

And yet. The shadow of his smile. The sound of his deep, powerful laugh. Following you everywhere as you got out of your tent, eyes narrowing at the bright light of the day, almost as bright and vibrant as the subject of your thoughts; almost.

Your path led you more by habits than by an actual decision of yours to the campfire next to Pearson's wagon, and you were delighted to see one of your obsessive needs was already there: a hot coffee pot, releasing a small puff of smoke had been prepared. Blessed was the divine human being who made it. You took a cup and poured some of the holy providential liquid into it, the mere smell of it already waking you up a little bit. The taste was strong, bitter; rough like your life was as an outlaw in a gang, but at least it would help you clear your head and maybe get a certain someone out of it.

As you sipped on the warm beverage, you took a look around at your surroundings. The camp offered you a pitiful but quite amusing sight. It was a real mess, as if a tornado had passed by and turned everything upside down. The Ocean of empty bottles was still present, spilling everywhere between the different people's tents. People who were slowly emerging from them, with tired eyes and ruffled hair, some of them speaking more quietly than usual, rubbing their temples, navigating through shattered glass and chaos of debris, remnants of the agitation that had taken place the night before. You chuckled to yourself. One of the more feared gangs in the West? Certainly not after a party.

Abigail was already starting to clean the pieces of glass, getting angry about how this wasn't a proper place to raise her kid. Honestly, she was right, and you wanted to help her. Ms Grimshaw would probably force you to anyway, and this idea was reinforced when you noticed her from afar, already yelling at Karen to get up and start the cleaning.

Before getting attention from the strict woman, you took a step to go and do your part but stopped in your tracks. A familiar rugged face had appeared from his tent and was heading up in your direction.

Arthur was feeling too much. Too much sensations, too much feelings, just way too much of everything. His thoughts were trying to work as fast as he could considering his slowed brain, the aftermath of his excess from last night preventing him from being as efficient as normal.

The main focus of his reflection was you. He was obsessed to know what had happened, to understand why he had so many memories about you from last night, and quite intimate ones. He was praying he didn't do anything stupid with you; were you two even okay? Had he offended you? Had he been respectful? He needed to know, he needed to make sure he hadn't screwed everything up between you two. And at the same time, he was ashamed. So ashamed of having drunk so much he wasn't even able to remember what had happened. He was so anxious to confront you about it. To hear the truth, hear you say he had been a pig, and you'd never want to see him again, because that was probably what had happened. He was convinced of it.

As he saw you drinking your morning coffee by the fire from his cot, he quickly had changed, tried to clean up a bit, and made sure he had nothing stuck between his teeth or anything else of that type that could make him pass for an even bigger fool than he already was. He had chosen one of the less damaged shirts he had, a simple green but at least not holey flannel, all his clothes being more or less in a bad state anyway. Two leathered suspenders on, keeping black basic pants from falling. Damn, his reflection in the mirror looked even uglier than usual with his lack of sleep and post-party face. He sighed deeply, screw it. He needed to talk to you, at all costs, he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything else properly otherwise. He tried to actually brush his hair, a thing he never bothered to do normally; he even tried to use some hair pomade, combed them in all directions possible, anything to make them look less messy. Nothing was working. He sighed again, getting angry, and just decided to put his hat on to hide this disaster.

This was already too complicated and he hadn't spoken any words yet.

Now walking straight to you, every step he took was followed by a worried thought, his heart tightening more and more as he was getting closer to the campfire you were standing next to. What had he done? Were you mad at him? Would you even agree to speak to him? Did he look good enough? Shit, he probably still must reeks of whiskey, he should have gone to town and taken a bath, stupid moron! But it was too late. Your eyes had crossed his, you had seen him approaching. There was no going back.

Finally arriving at the campfire, the poor nervous man stood at a respectful distance from you and cleared his throat. He didn't even had taken the time to think about what to say. Moron.

"G'd mornin', Y/N." He greeted you, his tone almost a bit too formal, a trace of his troubled state. His voice sounded huskier and harsher than what he wanted to, you were the first person he actually talked to since waking up and you could hear it with how hoarse his vocal cords were.

Besides it, you couldn't have guessed how much was going on inside his head; his expression was as neutral as usual, his own way of defending himself against the flurry of feelings that was taking place inside of him. You smiled at him, a mischievous, playful smile. You had so much to tease him about. Before the party, you two would already messed with each other a lot, and now you had a whole night of details you could use for it.

"Good morning, Mister Morgan... Guess someone was a little thirsty last night, mmh?" You answered, looking at him. His eyes crossed yours, he cracked up a smile too. His shoulders seemed to go down a bit, less tensed. In reality, he was so relieved to hear you tease him and to see your smile. You weren't mad. He silently thanked the Lord for that.

"I, erm... Maybe I drank a little t'much..." He replied with an embarrassed grin, his eyes looking at his feet before planting them back right into yours. He decided to ask you right away. Arthur never beat around the bush, this time was no exception. "L'sten, I don't... I don't remember much 'bout last night and... I hope I didn't bother ya."

His bright blue pupils were looking intensely into yours as he waited for your answer. He always looked at people like this, always keeping eye contact, as if it was a quiet duel and he would lose it if he stopped; but God, it made your heart melt a little.

"Oh, Arthur." You started, smiling some more realizing he was actually worried about you. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong. To me at least. I remember you losing your nerves and punching Micah in the face." You answered his question, chuckling in the end.

"Why, this bastard had it comin'..." Arthur replied, scratching the side of his jaw, the slight grin still present on his lips, telling himself that it was definitely something he was capable of.

"You sing pretty good when you're drunk..." You added, tone playful.

Arthur sighed, he was enjoying more and more of this conversation he had feared in the beginning.

"Oh stop it, I don't." He retorted, his fingers scratching one last time before falling to his belt, both his hands gripping it, a standing position he often had when talking and didn't know what to do with his arms. Honestly, you were quite fond of it.

"You want some coffee, songbird ?" You questioned with a teasing tone, already grabbing a new cup and the pot. You knew he would say yes.

"Yeah, thank you." He replied at first, before frowning. "Don't ya start calling me that!" He added with a firmer tone, but his small smile was still stuck on his face while grabbing the hot cup you were handing to him.

"You're also quite a dancer..." You teased him once more with your mischievous voice, knowing you were pushing his limits with your remarks.

"Damn it, woman! Can't believe I was worried 'bout ya, while ya're teasin' me like this..."

"Yeah, I'm such a nasty woman..."

"Nah, you're the sweetest." He corrected you, a bit too quickly for it to be innocent. A quick, subtle flicker in his eyes showed you he was surprised with himself; the words had come out on their own.

You smiled widely, cheeks turning a bit red. You were praying it wasn't too obvious to him. Arthur was still looking at you, two indigo miniature seas fixated on you, even while drinking his beverage. The more he was, the more those vivid memories he had were making their way back to his mind. While looking at your waist, he remembered having held it at some point during the party, which explained how he learned how your clothes felt underneath his fingers. His breath quietly hitched when he realized how he knew about the softness of your leg: he recalled having an arm curled up around it at the end of the night. Shit... He really had been unruly. After a short silence, Arthur spoke again. He wanted to make sure, he needed to make sure.

"Erm... Can I ask ya if we... Did anythin' happen b'tween us while I was drunk ?"

"No, you've just been a bit... Tactile. But nothing happened." You answered his question honestly, wanting him to know the truth. After all, Arthur was your friend, and there was a whole step between gently teasing and actually tormenting him. "Oh and, you said you loved me."

Arthur almost choked on his coffee, a short strangled sound escaping from his throat, some drops of the hot liquid falling on his shirt. The only decent shirt he had was ruined. But it was the least of his problems. What the actual Hell had gotten into him? He was an even worse fool than he thought, and the bar was already low.

"I... What ?" Were the only words he was able to form, one of his hands wiping the coffee from his chin.

"Don't worry, John told me you've made it a habit to tell women that when you're drunk, apparently. We don't have to make a bit deal out of this." You reassured him. He really looked ashamed of his behavior, and you didn't wanted to make him feel even worse.

But Oh Lord, if only you knew. If only you could have understood how much he wanted to make a big deal out of it; how much he had wanted to properly say those three words to you. He was almost disappointed in a way, that you were so quick to forget about it, as if it had been a simple joke to you, something amusing a drunkard had said in a moment of alcoholic eccentricity.

"Ah, alright. Well, I'm happy ya not mad at me." He simply added, honestly not knowing what to say or how to act anymore.

Tell her. Tell her she means the World to you. Tell her you have spoken the truth. This was the best chance you would have.

But the words were stuck, and as fast as a breeze would have swept away petals of flowers, Ms. Grimshaw asked for you with her usual severe call, and off you were gone, wishing him a good day and telling him he didn't have to worry about last night, even adding your typical teasing comments, advising him to join a choir were he could flourish his singing talent.

Looking at you walking off, he sighed again, calling himself a moron for at least the twentieth time since he had gotten up. Looking down at his cup of coffee, almost empty, just like the hurtful sensation he was experiencing right now inside his heart, he got angry again. This was enough. He threw the rest of the coffee on the ground, put the cup in his satchel out of habit, and walked straight to his horse.

The afternoon passed slowly and quietly. You basically spent it tidying up the camp, the number of dishes almost twice as big as usual, and the endless amount of bottles and garbage looking like it was only getting larger the more you were cleaning them up. Thankfully, Ms Grimshaw had put every girl in camp to work too, and you weren't alone on your impossible task while the men were back on their usual activities, whether it was lazying around for Uncle and the Reverand, guarding camp for Bill and Charles, or going back on jobs for the others. You hadn't seen Arthur since your morning discussion with him, and you had concluded he probably had gone somewhere to do his own work. As the sun was getting down, the camp had ultimately taken back its usual appearance, and you were finally free from your chores.

You decided to go to the edge of the camp, behind the wagons, where the cliff was starting and was offering a breathtaking view of the mountains in front of you. At this time of day, in the dusky sun, the landscape was painted with beautiful golden and bronze colors, dazzling blend of warm tones, ephemeral treasure from the last sunrays of the day before the settlement of the night's darkness.

Lost in your contemplation, you didn't hear footsteps approaching. The shrill and recognizable sound of spurs along with the heavy stomping of a horse's hooves made you turn your head from the literal work of art you had under your nose, and your gaze fell on another one from a different nature; Arthur was walking up to you, holding Boadicea's reins into his hands, his blue gaze already fixated on you, slight frown on his forehead, looking as determined as if he was going in for a fight.

He looked different from earlier, you swore he was wearing a brand new shirt you had never seen, a fresh white one, and a black jacket which must have gone with a fancy suit. As he was heading towards you, you noticed and could smell he had taken a bath, and trimmed his beard more than usual. He looked neat, refreshed, it was quite unusual for him. You could feel how your blood was rushing at the simple sight of all this: he was undoubtedly handsome, as breath-taking as the landscape around you.

"Y/N." He greeted you with a determined voice, once he had come close to you. He let go of the reigns, letting his mare free, but she stayed right where she was and started to graze happily. He took his hat off and held it in his hands, probably out of politeness. Such a gentleman, as always around women. You had always found it quite endearing how rough he was but at the same time how respectful towards girls, complying with conventions just like an honest man would. However you were a bit confused, he had never bothered to do that with you before, only with the women he didn't knew.

"Arthur, are you alright? Did Trelawny force you to get clean up ?" You joked a bit, genuinely surprised by his appearance and sudden polite behavior.

"What? N-no..." He stuttered. He never stuttered. You could feel it flowing into you like last night: this terrible, powerful feeling of hope. Your whole being was filled with it as your eyes were glued to him, like a moth to a flame, like a moon to its celestial body.

"I erm... I got somthin' for ya." He said almost shyly. Shyly. You couldn't believe what you were witnessing. It was nearly too good to be true.

Maybe... Maybe the words he had spoken to you... Maybe his tactile behavior... Your thoughts were going entirely crazy, spiraling around the deep feeling that something really important was on the verge of happening. You watched, in awe, as Arthur turned his back to you in order to pull off from Boadiccea's saddle a gorgeous flower bouquet.

"I know it ain't much but... I've picked 'em for you..." He said quietly, his voice slow and deep as usual, but also a bit more vulnerable. You could see just how flustered he was, how unusual it was for him to put himself in such a situation. And it made you more happy than anything for such a long time. Your eyes, traveling from his insanely cute bashful face to the flowers, were now stuck on it. The colors were vibrant and surprisingly well-matched, almost like a painting, the petals going from deep red to a warm golden yellow. You couldn't prevent a deep blush from flushing your cheeks; it really was warming your heart.

"They're beautiful! Thank you so much..." You marveled, vision attached to his gift, admiring every detail about it. After a short moment, as you realized he had felt silent, you spoke again, a wave of boldness crashing onto you. He had made a step towards you, now it was your turn.

"Arthur... The words you said to me last night..." You began, your eyes slowly ascending to look at his again. To your surprise, you found him looking away.

Another hint, another glimmer of the internal storm of emotions Arthur was feeling right now. Your own heart started to beat faster; the blood flooding so fast in your veins at this point you're wondering how the hell your body is keeping it all up together without collapsing under the pressure.

Arthur doesn't answer. Instead, he simply looks back at you, a flash of apprehension in his turquoise diamonds. He stays silent, unable to say anything more. His own heart must be on the verge of bursting cause you recognize the faintest of red on his own cheeks and a little vein on his temple. What a sight, to have this grown man, one of the stronger men in the gang, probably the fastest gunslinger of the State, blushing because of you.

"Those words were true, right?" You finish your sentence with an encouraging expression and the softest smile you had.

Arthur exhaled, closing his eyes for just a few seconds before planting them back into yours and nodding. Still silent, still stoic, still nervous. The slight blush was unhurriedly spreading on his face just like a flaming stain of watercolor on a canvas. Your very own art piece.

"I love you too, Arthur." You finally confided to him, voice soft and low, as if it was a confession you would have told him in the middle of the night, intimate as secrets you'd both tell each other in the ear while lying together in the same bed, arms interlaced, heart intertwined, as everything around you both would disappear. And in the moment, for Arthur, everything did.

He carefully brought a hand on the side of your face, never breaking his deep starring until the last second, and slowly bent over to put his lips on yours. Every move he was making was measured, contained; the exact opposite of his unleashed behavior at the party. You could feel just how cautious he was in that moment, as if he was scared to hurt you, or make you flee.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, never letting go of the bouquet that was now hanging behind his back in your thankful right hand. His own was still on your head, fingers gently caressing your skin as the kiss was dragging on. His lips, although chapped, felt good against yours, taking their rightful place there.

After what felt like an eternity of sweetness, he pulled back. If you thought he was blushing before, it was nothing compared to his cheeks right now, the deep crimson shade having completely recovered the canvas. Finally, his body's muscles relaxing, his features softening, a big, wide smile appeared on his face; the same that had been haunting you since the night before. The stupid smile. Just for you.

"I love you too, for real I mean." He let out in a soft drawling voice, once you had never heard coming from him. He brought his forehead to rest against yours, closing his eyes, not even processing this was really happening.

"I hope you'll sing again for me, Arthur." You couldn't help but add, a playful tone and a slight smirk on your lips.

"For ya, maybe, sweetheart. But don't ya come complainin' about the rainin' after."

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it. 

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience. 

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki. 

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough. 

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing. 

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world. 

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention. 

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?” 

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.” 

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.” 

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists. 

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight. 

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s  looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume. 

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns. 

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,” 

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body  out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.  

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.” 

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his. 

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.” 

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake. 

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.” 

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream. 

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery. 

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%.  but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t—“ 

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side. 

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely. 

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his  perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.” 

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you. 

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast. 

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good. 

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him. 

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.” 

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance. 

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing. 

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself. 

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?” 

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner. 

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars. 

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open. 

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.  

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.” 

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls  his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.” 

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief. 

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit. 

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears. 

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?” 

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.” 

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used. 

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by. 

including none other than shouto todoroki. 

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole. 

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there. 

“bakugou what are you—?” 

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?” 

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust.  “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.” 

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you. 

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too. 

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.” 

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated  kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever. 

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you. 

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks. 

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre. 

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly. 

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body. 

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high. 

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.  

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back. 

he collapses next to shouto after that. 

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.” 

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?” 

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately. 

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath. 

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight. 

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this. 

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.” 

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl. 

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[just-aake]

Thankful for You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You invite a mysterious red-haired stranger to join you for a Thanksgiving dinner. 

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 2547

Sitting alone on a bench in some park, Natasha looks up at the sky when the sound of thunder rumbles and echoes through the trees. 

Soon, she feels drops of water drip down her face as rain begins to pour all around her. She must have looked crazy to anybody who saw her, drenched from head to toe, just sitting alone in the park and staring stoically at the sky.

It didn’t matter though. There was no chance of anyone being around at this time anyway, given what day it was.

Thanksgiving Day 

A time when friends and family spend time with their loved ones and express gratitude for the good things in their lives. 

Natasha’s lips twitched slightly with a hint of amused resignation at the thought–the holiday defined everything that she didn’t have.

No friends – the mission in Budapest with Clint helped form a good teammate relationship, but even after other missions together, they have not reached the point where Natasha believes Clint has trusted her enough to be considered friends, and that sentiment is also returned by her.

No family – she was abandoned by her actual mother when she was a child, and as for her other temporary family, she has not tried to find any of them; though, she hoped Yelena was still alive and able to escape after Dreykov was killed.

No good thing in her life – she has been trained to be a killer her entire life, doing terrible things for others just to survive. She has always been a tool to be used. Now after recently joining Shield, she is still not sure if there will be any changes to her life that would ever be good.

There is nothing for her.

Natasha closes her eyes as she lets the rain hit her face, hoping that time will pass by quicker and end this dreadful day so that she can return to work and go on missions again. 

Suddenly, the consistent sound of rainfall is interrupted by a small splash in the distance, which Natasha already deduced as a single person’s footsteps.

With her eyes still closed, Natasha’s brow twitches slightly when she realizes that the steps are coming closer to her position. However, judging based on the unhurried pace and sensing no malicious intent from them, Natasha ultimately decides there is no threat with this newcomer.

They are probably just another individual on their way to some Thanksgiving party or dinner.

Natasha is about to return to her previous mindless thoughts when the footsteps suddenly stop.

In front of her

Natasha frowns when she no longer feels the cold touch of rain falling on her. Opening her eyes in confusion, the first thing she sees is the underside of an umbrella hovering above her head. 

Following the stem of the umbrella down to the hand holding it, her eyes eventually meet yours. 

Standing in front of her, you give her a small smile as you hold the umbrella above the two of you, shielding both of you from the rain.

Natasha glances down at your other hand, which holds a couple of bags of what looks like drinks and snacks.

When she returns her gaze to yours with a questioning look, your smile turns sheepish, unaffected by the intimidating glint Natasha has in her expression.

“This might be weird and a bit forward,” you start before nodding your head in a particular direction, “but would you like to come back to my apartment to dry off and wait out the rain there?” you offer her gently.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

In the hallway of your apartment building, Natasha stands with her arms folded, closely observing you as you fumble to find your keys. 

She is still unsure about why she accepted your offer. 

Maybe it was a curiosity to understand the kind of person you are—whether genuinely generous and kind or perhaps just naive and clueless. 

Or worse, you might just be offering help only to boost your own ego and feel superior; she’s met enough of those kinds of people during her brief time at Shield already.

Seeing you continue to struggle with the bags, umbrella, and keys in your hands, Natasha wordlessly extends her hand toward you in a silent offer. 

You pause at the gesture, your mouth opening slightly in surprise.

“Thanks,” you say softly, accepting her offer of help.

Natasha raises an eyebrow curiously when you only hand her some of the bags, not all, just enough relief for you to find the key and open the door of your apartment.

Walking into the apartment, you leave the door open almost as if it were an invitation to her, with no pressure to accept. 

She could just walk away and leave now, forgetting that she ever met you.

Again, Natasha doesn’t know why she decides to enter. 

However, maybe this time, it is partially due to the fact that she is still holding some of your bags from earlier.

Once she closes the door behind her, your voice calls her from the kitchen, and when she comes closer,  she sees that you are already in the process of sorting your items into their appropriate area. 

Glancing up at her approach, you ask her casually.

“So what’s your name?”

In response, Natasha presses her lips in a thin line, deciding on how much she should share with you, given her new 'clean slate.'

At her hesitance, you give her an amused smile.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be your real name. I just need something to call you instead of saying, ‘Have a seat, stranger’,” you tease lightly.

Understanding your point, Natasha contemplates for a second before settling on a safe option.

“Call me Nat.”

You repeat the name a couple of times softly under your breath before nodding your head satisfied and giving her a welcoming smile. 

“I’m Y/n.”

“Y/n…?” Natasha trails off in question for your last name, her instincts automatically activated to obtain as much information as possible.

You chuckle amusedly at her, going over to her to grab the bags from her hands. Turning around, you make your way back to your kitchen.  

“You never gave me yours,” you point out over your shoulder.

Natasha’s eyes widen slightly, impressed at your deflection. So, you are not completely naive. She decides to initiate another conversation to learn more.

“You know, it’s pretty reckless to invite a stranger into your home,” Natasha points out as she examines your living space. It was a small apartment but comfortable for one person to live in. She can spot your personal touches throughout the area, making it feel cozy and warm.

“It’s pretty reckless to follow a stranger to their home too,” you quip back at her. “What if I was a serial killer?”

Natasha huffs in disbelief, shaking her head and crossing her arms. 

“I don’t think so.”

You shrug casually as you take the remaining items out of the bag. 

“You’re right. I don’t think I even have the strength to take somebody down.” 

Finally finished with putting away your things, you lean back against your kitchen table, crossing your arms in a similar position as her.

“You, however, definitely look like you know how to fight,” you state plainly.

Natasha frowns skeptically at your wording, her defenses raising slightly in preparation.

Seeing her expression change defensively, you relax your posture and gesture to her body in explanation. 

“Your wet clothes are sticking to your skin, and I can see your muscles and abs from here.” 

Examining herself, Natasha can see what you mean. Her light clothes clinging to her skin reveal the contours of her toned body clearly.

Natasha returns her attention to you when you snap your fingers. 

“That reminds me. I need to get you some dry clothes. Wait here,” you tell her.

Before Natasha can respond, you leave through another door that she assumes is your bedroom. 

Natasha remains in her position, staring at where you left in confusion as she tries to figure you out. 

You’re not evil or dangerous–she is certain about that. You’re also not completely clueless and blindly trusting. 

And you are honest but careful. She recognizes the subtle hints of caution with your actions and words, but you don’t overtly show distrust towards her. 

You give off the impression of making an effort to maintain a welcoming atmosphere with her, but Natasha can sense that this isn’t a familiar territory for you.

It feels like a door attempting to close, yet a small invisible force is working to keep it open.

She is brought out of her thoughts when you return to the room and stand in front of her.

“Here you go,” you offer some clothes to her and then point to another door behind her. “Bathroom’s right there, and there should already be some towels that you can use to dry yourself off in there.”

You tilt your head curiously when she doesn’t move. 

“Thanks,” Natasha finally whispers before taking the clothes, her hand touching yours lightly. That brief touch left a lingering warmth in her hand as she headed to the bathroom. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Upon leaving the bathroom, Natasha is greeted by the beeping of the fire alarm and the sight of you standing on a chair, fervently waving a towel at the smoke alarm.

You don’t notice her presence when she quietly joins you in the kitchen, too focused on your task of silencing the annoying beeping sound. 

Standing on your tiptoes to reach the smoke alarm button, the chair beneath you wobbles as you shift your balance. After finally pressing the button, you exclaim softly in victory, but the chair wobbles again, causing you to lose your balance.

Instinctively, your hands reach out for the back of the chair or table to stop your descent, but to your surprise, instead of cold furniture, you feel a warm touch. 

Natasha gently holds your arms in a supportive grip, steadying you back on your feet. 

“Be careful,” she cautions lightly.

When you don’t respond and just stare at her in surprise, she raises a questioning brow at you.

Shaking your head lightly to snap out of your thoughts, you give her a small, appreciative smile.

“Thanks,” you tell her before turning to look at the pot on the stove and then back to her with a sheepish expression.

“I hope you like slightly burnt mac n cheese.”

The two of you sit across each other in silence as you both eat the dinner that you made.

Natasha eats slowly, glancing at you whenever you are not looking in observation. The food tasted normal, nothing special, but for some reason, every bite she took made her feel this warmth inside.

Eventually, you break the silence with a question to her.

“So, Nat, you had any Thanksgiving plans?”

“No.”

You nod your head in understanding. 

“Yeah, me too. I didn’t even plan on making anything tonight, but I thought maybe I could make you a small Thanksgiving meal. Luckily, I found some of these mac n cheese boxes in the cabinet. But if you are still hungry, there are also some chips and cookies that you can snack on.”

Natasha’s lips quirked up slightly, amused at your rambling.

Your eyes widen at the sight before pointing out happily.

“Oh! You smiled. I was hoping to cheer you up, even if just a little.”

Natasha furrows her brows curiously at your words, giving you a questioning look at what you meant.

“Why did you invite me here, Y/n?” Natasha asks.

You sit back against your chair at the question, already expecting it eventually. Playing with the bottle in your hand and spinning it on its edge in a random pattern for a moment, you finally let out a deep breath.

“To be honest, I saw you earlier today when I left. Then again, on my way home. You had the same sad expression during both times,” you admit softly before raising the bottle to your lips.

You shrug nonchalantly, saying, “I guess, something about the way you looked reminded me of myself.”

Natasha watches you take a sip as she tries to understand the meaning of your words.

Seeing her confused expression, your smile turns downward slightly as you explain.

“My parents passed away on Thanksgiving.”

You wave away her concerned gaze reassuringly.

“It happened long ago. There was a car accident on the way to a Thanksgiving gathering. I was upset at something stupid at the time like most teenagers do, so I didn’t go with them.”

You let out a regretful breath at the memory, a brief lingering sadness in your eyes before shaking your head and giving her a rueful smile.

“Typically, when this day comes around, I get too depressed to be around anyone, but when I saw you, I had a sudden thought.”

You lean forward, placing your hands on the table, and raise your eyebrows at her as you explain.

“On the day when people gather together to be happy and thankful, I thought why don’t the two sad souls also try coming together?” 

At Natasha's doubtful expression, you continue your explanation.

“Maybe there’s a chance we can cheer each other up, even temporarily, and if we can’t, then we can always just be sad together.”

Natasha stares at you with wide eyes, astonished at your words. You are even more intriguing than she thought.

You give her a small smile at her reaction, turning one of your hands upward in an open invitation to her.

“What do you think, Nat? Do you feel a little bit better or should I just bring out the entire case of beer for the remainder of tonight?”

Staring at your open palm offered to her, Natasha notices the same lack of pressure to accept as before. 

That’s when Natasha realizes something.

For the first time in a long while, in an unfamiliar apartment, wearing clothes that weren’t her own, and eating a slightly burnt meal prepared for her, Natasha was experiencing an unexpected sense of comfort and warmth, relieving her of the previous emotions that had weighed on her before. 

All thanks to you.

And as she expected, when Natasha places her hand atop yours, she feels your warmth spreading to her through your touch.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The next morning, as you enter the living room, you are not surprised to find the empty couch, with neatly folded blankets and your clothes on the cushions – no signs of yesterday's guest.

Turning around to prepare for the day, you notice a small note on your kitchen table and, upon reading it, you smile gently.

Sorry, I left without a goodbye. I had to leave early. I wanted to let you know, compared to my original plan for this holiday, I’m glad I spent it with you. Maybe next time we meet, I can make you a meal that isn't as burnt as thanks. From one sad soul to another. – Natasha Romanoff

You say her real name out loud softly with a small smile, grateful that you took the chance to meet the mysterious stranger. Anticipation builds as you look forward to the next opportunity to see her again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thanks for reading! I am still working on Boundless Devotion. I just got a little busy lately. Hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving!

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

imagine: it’s been years since Steve and Eddie have seen each other. Eddie is still in contact with the kids, with Robin and Nancy and even Jonathan and Argyle, but he and Steve have kind of fallen out of touch. Steve buys every magazine that features Eddie, has a stack of Eddie’s tapes by his stereo, watches every televised award ceremony. He’s being supportive in the only ways he knows how. He had thought, back in 1986, that maybe they could have been something great, but he and Eddie had missed each other. That’s okay. It’s fine.

Steve’s okay, following Eddie’s career from afar. He’s got his own life to think about, his students and coaching and dating the various men and women his coworkers try to set him up with. It’s fine.

The Grammys are this weekend and Steve’s carved out his Sunday evening to watch the ceremony. Eddie’s third studio album is nominated for a whole slew of awards and fans have been gobbling up all the hints of who the album could be about. Eddie isn’t known for his love songs, but this new album consists of quite a few torch songs and ballads, each one more heartbreaking than the last. Steve’s been listening to the album on repeat for the past few weeks, imagining a world that maybe could have been if he’d been ready for it ten years ago. But he hadn’t been. He knows he hadn’t been.

On Sunday night, Steve pops some popcorn and parks himself on the couch in front of his ancient TV. He settles in as the red carpet coverage starts. He watches as Madonna and Prince and Michael Jackson arrive. He watches as Bruce Springsteen and Celine Dion and Shania Twain are interviewed by entertainment reporters.

And then Eddie appears, stepping out of his car and holding out his hand for his date to climb out after him, some actor that had just had a film premier at the Venice Film Festival. They make a good couple, handsome and clearly in love judging by the way they look at each other, the secret smiles they share when they think no one is looking. Steve tries not to take it personally, knows he has no right. It’s been years since he’s even seen Eddie in the flesh, even longer since they’ve had any meaningful sort of conversation. Fans have been speculating about this new relationship, theorizing that this is who Eddie’s love songs are all about. Watching them together, Steve thinks they’re probably right.

Halfway through the ceremony, Eddie wins the award for Best Metal Performance. Steve can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips, practically threatening to split his face in two. He watches, enraptured, as Eddie storms onto the stage, smile blinding. Steve practically holds his breath as he watches Eddie clutch the trophy in his shaking hands and stand close to the mic. He has to bend slightly and Steve’s smile grows even wider as Eddie thanks Wayne and the Party, all of them, before thanking his managers and agents and producers. Then Steve watches as Eddie takes a deep breath. The camera cuts to the crowd, closing in on Eddie’s date who watches from his seat, glassy eyes reflecting the stage lights and dopey smile on his face. Steve’s own smile falls just a little until the camera cuts back to Eddie.

“And to the man who’s inspired every song on this album,” Eddie smiles again, bright and blinding, holding his trophy up towards his date. “Stevie baby, thank you, darling.”

Steve’s face falls. Something in his chest tightens. There’s a grumbling from the crowd on screen and the camera zooms in on Eddie’s face as he seems to realize what he’s said. That he’s said the wrong name. Because that’s not his date’s name, it’s not even close. Eddie looks surprised at his own words but the camera cuts from him to where his date sits in the crowd, smile still plastered to his tanned and handsome face, clearly forced. The crowd starts clapping as the music starts to play and the presenters help usher Eddie backstage.

Steve can’t breathe. He can’t take his eyes off the screen, even though Eddie’s not there anymore. He feels rooted to the spot he’s made for himself on his couch. There’s a rushing in his ears.

He’s vaguely aware of his phone as it starts to ring in the kitchen.

when i got into the accident, the sight that flashed before me was your face. but when i stepped up to the podium, i think that i forgot to say your name. i’m on a bench in coney island wondering where did my baby go? the fast times, the bright lights, the merry-go. sorry for not making you my centerfold, over and over.

part two

[achromatophoric]

Wenclairtober 2024, Day 2 - Blood

The night finds Enid and Wednesday standing before a gothic mansion, from which emanates the distinct sounds of an absolute rager of a party.

Wednesday: Let’s get this over with.

Enid: Oh c’mon, Willa. It’s Yoko’s birthday party! I bet you’ll find something here that’s fun.

Wednesday: I highly doubt—

The front door bursts open to reveal the birthday girl, already spattered in blood with a cone hat askew atop her head.

Yoko: MY BITCHES!! Welcome to my Bloody Birthday Extravaganza!

The vampire wraps the giggling werewolf in a twirling hug while Wednesday watches on, unamused.

Enid: Eeee! Happy birthday, Yoko!

Wednesday: Yes, congratulations on miraculously escaping being staked for another plodding step along your inexorable journey towards an eternity of meaningless existence.

Yoko: 😦

Enid: Uhhh— oh! *peeks around Yoko* Is that a bar I see?

Yoko: Oh yeah! Check it. We’ve got sanguinria and arteritas. If you want it virgin, the purple cups are alcohol-free and the pink one are from certified virgins. Thirsty?

Enid: *wrinkles nose* I think I’ll pass for now.

Yoko: *sympathic wince* Sorry. The boys were supposed to bring the non-vamp drinks, but Kent just called. Ajax somehow stoned himself in the store, so it’ll be a bit.

Enid: *groans*

Wednesday: *eyes the pink cups* At least he’s consistently unreliable.

Yoko: Anyways! So like there’s like five bathrooms— just follow the signs…

The roommates follow Yoko on the tour, passing by numerous vampires in various states of inebriation. Yoko jerks a thumb back at a closed door as they pass by.

Yoko: And stay out of that room. The Lestans and Twihards are going at it in there, and if it’s anything like the last time, they’ll be halfway to a hate orgy by now.

Enid: *makes face* Oh ick!

Wednesday: *sips from pink cup*

Yoko: Here’s the dance floor. That’s my boy Undeadm4us dropping them sick beats.

Enid: Nice! *bobs with music*

Yoko: And outside, we have the coup de grâce…

Yoko: *flourishes* Ta da! Blood wrestling!

Enid: 😬

Wednesday: *not even looking* Mud wrestling? How objectifying. I am shockingly unsurprised.

Enid: *whispers* Willa! Be nice.

Yoko: Bitch, don’t knock it till you try it! Heck, Divina even had fun! She’s prolly still showering it off.

Wednesday: You even subjected your paramour to such an undignified display of vulgarity? I didn’t think my opinion of you could—

Having finally looked up, the seer trails off as she scrutinizes the wrestling arena. Most of the lawn is hidden by white tarps, with a sizable dip in the center. Blood is literally everywhere, originating from the shin-deep pool in which a pair of vampires are actively wrestling.

Wednesday: 😐

Wednesday: This is blood.

Yoko: Uh, duh. I said blood wrestling.

Wednesday: *contemplative* Is— Is it real blood?

Yoko: Yes? Girl, this is a vampire party. And before you ask—

Enid: *shuts mouth*

Yoko: *smugly* Divina spent months collecting donations.

Enid: Oh, okay.

Yoko: So whatcha think?

Enid: Chica, this is your biggest banger yet!

Yoko: Sweet! *turns* I’ll probably regret asking, but what do you th— huh? Where’d she go?

The two look frantically about, startled to have lost track of the diminutive seer. Enid spots her girlfriend’s discarded clothes, but before she can do more than gasp, a ruckus draws all eyes to the blood wrestling pit.

Some vampire: H-HELP! SHE’S CRAZY!

Wednesday: Cease your sniveling! Are you not a supernatural predator? Is this the best you have?!

Yoko: 😧

Enid: 🫢

Yoko: The Wednesday Addams is naked.

Enid: *softly* Uh huh.

Another vampire: Getheroffgetheroff!!

Yoko: In my blood wrestling pit.

Enid: Yup.

Wednesday: Pathetic! I demand a challenge! COME AT ME!! *pounds bloody breast*

Yoko: *proudly* Guess she approves!

Enid: One hundo percent.

Yet another vampire: HOW IS SOMEONE SO SMALL SO STRONG?!?

Enid: 😳

Enid: *swallows thickly* Soooo… can I uh— can I ask like a ginormous favor?

Yoko: 🤨

Enid: 🥺

Yoko: *rolls eyes* Fine, but burn the sheets when you’re done. And tell your girl that I want double the thread count on the replacements.

Enid: Thanks Yoko you’re totes the best!

The besties return their attentions to the blood wrestling pit, unsurprised to find an indecently gore-slick Wednesday standing atop a pile of groaning vampires. The shameless seer licks the blood from her lips and releases a furious snarl.

Wednesday: More, you miserable wretches. I. DEMAND. MORE!!

[glutton-fluid]

something i wrote a little bit ago, its pretty rough, but i love being the fat cow at a party. anywhays, its not even 3pm and im 3 beers deep rn, so enjoy~

-

it’s days like this when i wish i had been more active in my college’s greek life. i wish i had done more to contour my chubby cheeks and burgeoning double chin, accentuating my fat tits and wide ass while covering and sucking in my growing belly that i love so much.

i’m imagining i’m in my dorm room, my sweet bimbo roommate (who’s probably growing a bit of a beer belly after living with me for a little over a year) is helping me zip up a slutty dress that barely fit last week. a not so small part of me is hoping i’ll burst out of it. the dress finally zips up and i have to breath shallowly as if i’ve been stuffing myself for hours, but i’ve barely eaten. my bimbo roommate hands me a dab pen and we pass it back and forth, getting pleasantly stoned before setting out for free beer and a healthy boost to our burgeoning egos.

we end up slipping through the back of a party where we’re friends with a lot of the brothers (i.e. we fuck on a semi-consistent basis). my roommate goes off to meet up with some friends and i head straight for the drinks. marcus, one of the brothers i’ve been fucking, sees me headed towards the drinks and quickly follows me.

“hey babe, you need something to whet your thirst?” i tell him to can it with the pick up lines, he’s fucked me good enough plenty of times that he doesn’t need that, and then i grab a beer and chug it as fast as i can. he smiles at me, reaching his hands up to grope my fat hips. he’s pretending like he’s keeping himself from touching my ass, but i know he’d rather have his hands on my belly. we haven’t talked about it yet, but some of my best orgasms have come from fucking him while as bloated as possible. i chug a second beer just as quick as the first, intentionally trying to break his resolve, to make him touch my fat gut in public. he grips my hips tighter and i gasp, which quickly causes me to burp. he shoves his face in my neck and begins making a high pitched whining sound. i pick up a third beer. he looks at me with a small amount of disbelief, but an underlying understanding that i am only just getting started. he watches as i chug it, his hands finally gravitating to my now slightly firm belly.

marcus and i stand there in our own little world for a few minutes, him groping my fat and kissing me whenever i wasn’t actively drinking more beer, and i finally begin to feel my drinks halfway through my 5th beer. inevitably, he is pulled away for host duties, but he has to be pulled away from my wobbling, bloated, gut.

i wander into the kitchen and grab my 8th beer, quickly throwing it back and starting to feel pleasantly full, when a group of skinny girls with brown and blonde hair all with matching nostril piercings, stumble into the kitchen. they see me, leaning my bloated gut onto the counter while quickly making my way through my 10th beer.

“omg i’ve heard about her, i think. she started out last year after a gap year and was kinda buff when she started. she’s been high with a bloated beer gut ever since” the girl seems to think she’s whispering, but i just think about the truth of her words. i burp, almost in agreement with her generalization of my life. one of the girls gets curious and rounds the counter to get closer to my gut. i started a six pack as i entered the kitchen, and finish it by the time the curious girl’s hand meets my bloated gut. i moan at her touch, which elicits a burp from my sloshing gut. she gasps, pulling her hand away from me, before committing and placing her hand flat on my belly. she begins to rub more burps out of my gut, and her friends become curious as well.

the group of girls all rub my gut for a few minutes until i stop burping. they seem to take this as a sign that i have more room now. my 14th and 15th beer are fed to me in between bites of pizza and my stomach moans and groans. one girl feeds me beer, another pizza, another continuously rubs my gut, and the last has been kissing my neck and playing with my nipples and is now sliding down and putting her face to my dripping wet cunt. i writhe with pleasure and begin to eat and drink as fast as i can. beer and grease drips down my fattening face and neck, smearing my makeup (which was applied drunkenly, of course) as i moan and writhe against all the hands holding me down. im pretty drunk at this point, but i refuse to stop drinking until i can’t walk. wether that be due to my drunken state, or my bloated and oversized gut, makes no difference to me.

by the time my bimbo roommate wanders into the kitchen looking for me, im laid back, hiccuping and burping, after being stuffed and abandoned by my group of feeders. she runs up to me and begins rubbing my gut that sticks out almost a whole foot in front of me. i groan and flop my face into her neck. she continues rubbing my belly, and slides an opened beer into my hand. she’s never the one pouring booze or beer down my throat at the end of the night. she likes watching me choose this. i begin to drink my beer, having lost count of how many the girls forced into me before my roommate got here. im so drunk i can’t speak. i drink at a medium pace while my belly is rubbed after my consensual torture from a group of sorority girls. my roommate helps me to my feet and begins to lead me outside, bringing a pack of beer with us for the journey. it’s only a 6-pack, so i don’t imagine we’re going far.

she leads me, stumbling and burping, to a small grouping of people smoking cigarettes, joints, and blunts around a small campfire. people greet her like they know her, giving me a small smile as if they know i am too drunk to speak right now. i continue to drink, downing a beer every 8-10 minutes while rubbing my gut and forcing out belch after belch. someone i’ve never met before hands me a blunt and begins rubbing my belly in place of my own hands.

i moan and smoke without question, and someone else holds a beer near my face continuously. the conversation stays on its track, barely acknowledging the pig now sat on the ground, her ass no longer covered by her meagre dress, said meagre dress also coming apart at the seams from the pressure of her ever growing gut. after my 6 pack has been drunk and i am so high i can barely walk, a small group of stoners help me wander and stumble and burp my way back to the main house.

the party has died down a bit, and is no longer a rager, and is now much closer to a well-stocked kickback. i am set up on a recliner in the living room, and marcus slides back in and drops himself on my shrinking lap.

“oh, wow. you’ve gotten big tonight.” he rubs my belly appreciatively, reaching down to tease my swollen fupa. i moan as loud as my overfilled gut will allow, and i feel him break a little bit as he jolts up and forces our mouths together, and begins to rub his hard cock against my gut. we rut together and make out until we hear someone clearing their throat behind him.

“it’s time to clean up the party, piggy.” andy, the vice president of the frat and another of my harem of frat boys that want to take out all their frustration on my fat ass and gut. he’s carrying a few boxes of beer, presumably the leftovers from tonights party. i see his cock harden in his gym shorts as he watches me drunkenly reach for the beer.

[akirathedramaqueen]

The Five Stages Of Grief: Verosika vs. Stolas

Alright, guys, it's time to play the complete denial card and ignore for a moment what we've just seen in the last short Viv dropped like a fucking nuke on our heads (seriously, this woman makes me swear more than a sailor).

Are we going to talk about something light? Ha-ha, you are looking at the angstiest person out here. Sorry. No relief for you.

But maybe some bits of analysis will do? Let's go.

The setup

Some time ago, I discussed how differently Stolas and Verosika react to their breakup with Blitz in response to one of my previous posts (it might be useful to read that to have the whole picture, but it's not crucial—here).

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 8:05

If we recap that reblog, I find that Stolas deals with his emotions much better and processes them in a more mature manner than Verosika does.

We could stop there, really, but I wanted to explore the situation from a different angle. Using the Kübler-Ross five stages of grief model, we can pull out more nuance from their actions and words.

They both went through a similar traumatic event—Blitzø hurt them in arguably one of the worst ways possible. The circumstances, Blitzø's intentions, and the outcomes are slightly different, but at their core, they are both left broken and deeply wounded.

Left: S2EP8, The Full Moon, 22:00 Right: S2EP9, Apology Tour, 18:03

So, what about their personalities makes their responses to trauma so contrasting?

Disclaimer about the model's credibility

This is probably me being overly pedantic, but I want to point out that this model is deemed to be popularized by the media, and professionals’ opinions are conflicted—some say it is accurate while others criticize it for its lack of flexibility or go as far as to say it has no application in real life. The studies are also inconclusive—there are papers both in favor of and against this model.

What am I trying to say here? This is a silly analysis about silly demons from a silly show, and if you do happen to unfortunately experience grief in any way (I am so sorry you have to go through this!), it is essentially experienced by all people differently. You should not feel bad if you skip stages or if their order is messed up.

Okay? <3 Okay. You’ve got this in your own way.

Tomorrow will be better than today.

Stolas: A Classic Way

One of the things I noted in my previous post is that Stolas immediately recognizes the pettiness of the party, and I praised his remarkable ability to see through the issues with such events.

The one day a year the spirits can rise amongst the living and it's spent celebrating mutual pettiness. S2EP9, Apology Tour, 6:55

And don’t get me wrong—his own way of dealing with problems is just drinking them away, and that’s not healthy. That’s why he actually belongs at this party.

But emotionally, Stolas is much more aware of what’s going on with him and the people around him. I think that despite his drinking problem, this awareness helps him process his own grief faster and find resolution—or at least an outlet—in just one night.

Let’s apply the five stages of grief model to him and see what’s going on.

Denial

You can see the denial seeping through during their morning conversation—there are moments when he clearly hopes Blitzø will suddenly listen to him and change his demeanor, despite Blitzø being consistent in his brashness and hostility.

Left: S2EP9, Apology Tour, 3:56 Right: S2EP9, Apology Tour, 4:23

Can you see the hope in his eyes? Can you see how ready he would be to brush off the whole shitshow happened between them just for Blitzø to take at least a bit of accountability or accept his feelings?

Additionally, although it doesn’t fit the term perfectly, we could stretch the concept a bit and say that the following lyrics below are somewhat denialish. Notice, by the way, that it’s not linear to the suggested model—you’ll see why later.

But I, I keep on waiting Waiting to want you less than I do And I do, oh, I do, yes I still do want you S2EP9, Apology Tour, 11:08

'Cause I am not a thief, but you were mine to earn S2EP9, Apology Tour, 11:42

He struggles to accept that the relationship has ended (we struggle too, baby owl, and we're not accepting it… but it gets worse before it gets better), and he still waits for Blitzø to return, maintaining a possessive feeling—“you were mine to earn.”

Anger

Stolas's anger is vastly different from Verosika's—I promise to elaborate on it later.

He uses his anger throughout the morning confrontation with Blitzø to protect himself from Blitzø's attacks and futile attempts to retain the status quo. His anger serves to assert that he is done with the transactional arrangement and Blitzø's behavior.

As shocking as this might seem, Blitzø, I don't think I'm in the mood to "do sex" with you. In fact, I don't think I'm even in the mood to do words with you! So, how about you respect that? S2EP9, Apology Tour, 0:57

[Stolas]: Get out. Right now! [Blitzø]: What?! [Stolas]: I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable how you're speaking to me now! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 2:24

And all of this happens just the night after that disastrous full moon meeting! Stolas is pissed off, and rightfully so. But he still gives Blitzø the chance to correct his behavior, explain, and apologize. He asks Blitzø to leave him in peace but stays to hear him out until it becomes clear that Blitzø is not going to relent or give in.

His anger is not used to destroy those he is angry with; rather, it is directed toward keeping himself whole—at least as much as possible.

Bargaining

The whole verse of All 2 U, where Stolas contemplates what went wrong and if there's something they could still do, represents him trying to bargain for a better future.

Maybe there's something here for us to glean? For you to teach and me to try and learn? S2EP9, Apology Tour, 11:32

Of course, this is also something very useful for when they come back together (not if!). Despite Blitzø being the focus in the Apology Tour episode, Stolas has a lot of work to do, too. And him realizing that is a positive step.

But for now, from the perspective we’re looking at, this is a clear sign of him trying to trade anything he can for their relationship to flourish.

Depression

Eventually, Stolas breaks down publicly. He can’t hold the mask on anymore; seeing Blitzø is unbearable, as it reminds him too much of everything that happened and everything that could’ve been.

You! Why are you here? I don't want you here, go home, please! Let me not feel so sad! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 15:50

And he manages to compose himself incredibly quickly…

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 16:07

It takes him just 17 seconds to fall into crying and calm himself. But there was more brewing beneath the surface—he just didn’t show it.

Calm yourself, young prince. You know excitement is unbecoming of a Goetia. S2EP1, The Circus, 00:20

Acceptance...?

Then there's the guy who received more hate than he (allegedly) deserved—Better Than Blitzo guy. He asks Stolas for a dance, and Stolas accepts. He seems to quite enjoy himself there, actually… maybe even a tad too much (arguably).

Well, I just wanted to see if... Maybe... I dunno... You'd wanna... Dance? S2EP9, Apology Tour, 16:16

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 19:08

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 20:08

Did he move on? Did he get over Blitzø? We don’t know. I don’t think so. But that dance was certainly an outlet. A relief he was ready to accept. He was ready not to dwell on negative emotions and allow himself to feel something good for a change.

Verosika: A scorched earth way

Now, let’s see how Verosika is doing after all these years post-breakup. Surely she can’t care less about Blitzø now, right?

Anger

Right… No petty feelings at all.

S1EP3, Spring Break, 8:13

There's still resentment...

A selfish imp in the sheets And just as bad in the streets A reckless, heartbreaking freak! S1EP7, Ozzie's, 11:54

Anger… to the murderous degree, actually…

Fuck Blitzo in the fucking ass! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 8:14

Disrespect...

That cock-sucking motherfucker! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 9:36

Remember when I said their anger is different?

She uses hers to fuel her determination to destroy Blitzø’s reputation. She uses her fame and all her resources to humiliate him.

She never moved past anger. Never really processed it.

But wait…

Acceptance?!

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 18:55

All it took was just one long-overdue genuine talk. The moment she saw Blitzø's remorse and let her feelings out, she immediately warmed up, stopped using his dead name, and even gave advice—it’s debatable whether it was the best one, but I believe she meant well for both Blitzø and Stolas.

Hold it, Blitzø. Y’know, if you wanna change, it just starts with saying: “Good for him, hope he gets laid.” S2EP9, Apology Tour, 19:18

You know, I feel there’s a good chance that the next anti-Blitzo party might not ever happen again.

Because she leaped through all the stages in one night, and, maybe not at that exact moment, but she is on the path to acceptance. Finally letting it go.

Baby, I'm not over it, but I'm over you.

Could've saved many years of simmering in rage and destructing herself over Blitzø though.

Conclusions

Oh shit, now I need to somehow connect all the dots, don’t I?

Well... *chuckles nervously* I guess I gotta put on my nerd glasses and pretend I knew what I was doing here and not just threw shit at the wall and saw what stuck.

What I really wanted to say is that Stolas is much more self-aware and was able to work through all his feelings and process them in one day. He went through the complete journey and made immense progress. We don’t know how it will go further, but from what we’ve seen, his emotional intelligence helps him, if not to avoid problematic behaviors like binge-drinking, then at least not to burn bridges behind him, leaving space for understanding, forgiveness, and acceptance.

It’s not to say that Verosika’s way of doing things was wrong because she was angry and skipped through some stages. It was wrong because she made her entire personality revolve around it, turning bringing Blitzø down in any way possible into her ultimate life goal. It was wrong because she never processed it.

And it shows why, even after the break-up, #stolitz can still work, given that Blitzø is open about how he feels and Stolas is open to listening to it.

AGAIN! There’s no right way to process grief. But there should be a priority to heal and accept instead of doubling down and ruining yourself and everything you cared for.

(I am watching you, Blitzø hater. Don’t you dare to shit on my poor lizard. He has his own heap of issues and has had enough after that fucking penguin slur short. So don’t. >:()

[minhosimthings]

Skz under the Mistletoe

Pairings: bf!Skz × implied fem!reader

Warnings: FLUFF FLUFF NOTHING BUT FLUFF, mention of food, a bit suggestive in Minho and Changbin's

A/N: I needed something to help refresh this dumb brain of mine cause I CANNOT work on any of my smut wips rn so here ya go! Also I know it's not Christmas yet and this is really Christmassy but y'all I live in Scotland. ITS ALWAYS CHRISTMAS MUHAHAHA

Bang Chan/ Christopher

this mf would start giggling so hard

I'm like a hundred percent positive he would deliberately hang mistletoe above you

Imagine you're baking cookies and you're too busy to give him a kiss

And he just pouts and stalks off ☹️ somewhere to do God knows what

And then you find him sitting on the couch with mistletoe on his hair

"baby quick! Kiss me I'm under mistletoe! Don't you know it's bad luck if you don't kiss someone under mistletoe?"

You'd give in of course, not wanting to sadden your adorable boyfriend,🥺 who looked even more adorable with heaps of mistletoe stuck to his curls

Please save me I am obsessed with this man

Lee Minho/ Lee Know

This man

This man istg

HE WILL STRAIGHT UP REFUSE TO KISS YOU

"I wouldn't kiss your dumb face normally why would I do it now?"

Meanie 😐

But he'd immediately melt on seeing your pouty face and sad expression

So like the great boyfriend he is, he'd tie strings of mistletoe to Soonie's collar and send her to you.

"alright we need to kiss your mom on her stupidly cute face so go to her and don't mess this up."

Soonie would walk up to you followed by Minho and he would just meekly be like "Mistletoe?"

CUTIES NXJSJS

Would a 100% pick you up and throw you on the bed, saying that mistletoe doesn't only consist of kisses 😏

Changbin/ Seo Changbin

ISTG I WILL COMBUST RIGHT HERE

Bang Chan part 2

He'd be so giggly and blushing so profusely when you both would notice you're under mistletoe

Like if it was at a party or something, and everyone was shouting "Kiss!" At the both of you, how could he refuse?

Would definitely do that thing where he squeezes your waist

It would be such a soft kiss istg

Would probably take you up to the bedroom after the kiss though

Hyunjin/Hwang Hyunjin

GIRL THE WAY HE'S BLUSHING SO HARD YOU'D THINK HE SMEARED PAINT ON HIMSELF

You'd decorate his art studio with mistletoe

Specifically putting it above the place where you'd pose for him when he's painting you

This man would probably be confused at first like he's so immersed in painting,

And then you're like "Hyunjin look mistletoe!"

Bitch will be like "You want me to paint the mistletoe in the picture too?"

Truly the leader of PaboRacha

But afterwards he'd give you the most precious kiss ever

Just so soft, warms wrapped around your waist

"Wanna make some hot chocolate darling?"

I need to stop Hyune is wrecking me too hard

Han/Han Jisung

Ngl he would be the one badgering you

"ooh baby where did this mistletoe come from?"

*holds the mistletoe above your head*

Would pout when you'd say you'll give him kisses later, because you need to get ready for work

Literal sparkly eyes begging you for a kiss

You'd give in eventually, how could you refuse the power of the Han Jisung puppy eyes?

"baby did you kiss me because of the mistletoe or because of my charms?"

SO FUCKING ADORABLE

Felix/Lee Yongbok

Alright I'm imagining this is Australia because obviously you guys went to visit his family for the holidays

His sister's would a 100% prank him with mistletoe

NAUR cause they'd hang mistletoe over your bed, and when you and felix spot it, they'd pull out their phones to record you guys kissing

DEFINETLY did not do that to my gf once nope

"oh sunshine look mistletoe! Should we have a kiss then?"

MY SWEET POOKIE BROWNIE SUGAR PUMPKIN PIE I love him saur much

Seungmin/Kim Seungmin

Bruh this guy

I swear to god this guy

KIM MF "it's a childish thing to do" SEUNGMIN

NAUR he WILL make fun of you for wanting to do it

Like you're just goofing off, decorating the house for Christmas

And you decide to jokingly put mistletoe on his hair

He'll just roll his eyes and go back to his book, completely ignoring the grass on his hair

And you'd be like bitch kiss me we're under mistletoe

"Seriously pup, you still believe in that childish crap?"

And he's done it, he's upset you great job Seungmin (I don't know why I'm so salty towards him rn)

And then he'd just sigh, looking at your pouty face

Then he'll proceed to grab your face in his hands and kiss you in the most devastating way ever

"next time when you want a kiss, just ask for it darling."

Wodjdjeb you will not survive

I.N/Yang Jeongin

AHH INNIE KDISSHD

Lemme calm down first

THIS GUY WOULD BE SO AMAZING

Look if there's anyone in Skz who believes in miracles and the holy spirit and whatnot

IT'S HIM

Flashback to when he wanted to be a priest

Giggles and blushes part 3

Girl he legit kiss you for so long if you do that

Iike sir you need to breathe too stop with the smooches

He'll legit kiss you in the middle of a store if there's mistletoe there

Like just in the middle of the hygiene aisle, where there's mistletoe decorating the shelves

Just BAM his lips are on uours

"We can't resist the power of the mistletoe honey."

I swear to God this man will be the death of me

[beelijah4894]

I want to examine Chilcuck's change in relationship with Marcille

Quite frankly, I want to discuss the way his general trust changes and how it affects him.

Marcille and Chilcuck are good coworkers, especially at the start of the show. They respect boundaries and share a teasingly platonic relationship. Beyond that, they are fairly good friends; not extremely close but still good. For lack of a better explanation, they are close enough to be able to show genuine concern for the others comfortability rather than just their safety. For example, when Marcille is attack by the slime, Chilchuck offers his hanky to blow out the excess. Or when Marcille helped Chilchuck stitch up his neck wrap.

This show does a tremendous job of showing how these characters have already gotten to know each other and that they know each other well. When Chilchuck is trapped with the mimic, he trusts Marcille would be concerned enough to get help, but also knows her well enough to know she probably fell back asleep. Still, Chilchuck does trust these people. Enough even to share his age and very minor details about his life outside the dungeon.

A scene that really shows Chilchuck's trust in the group is right before the Undine attack when he is laying out the plan for the rest of the trip. It shows just how well they work together and Chil doesn't have to worry about too many details. He knows he is with a strong group. In fact, I'd say they are at their strongest right before and during the dragon attack. They make a plan together and work out each others strengths, in which Chil is able to help in the actual fight. (another less important fact, but when Laios is mentioning how they used to fight dragons, children isn't even named).

Then, the resurrection happens. Chilchuck is the number one person against it. So why does he stay? Why doesn't he stop it or leave the party? There are quite a few reasons. He can't go home without his party, he'd never survive. But he also doesn't want them to die and I think deep down, he does trust their judgement. They've stayed alive this long doing things he wasn't comfortable with and, while this is an extreme, he does have some form of trust there.

Chilchuck is such a follower of what is ethically right and he obviously doesn't agree with this. While, on the other side, Marcille thinks that "there is no morality in magic." It drives a stake through that bond because they both feel so strongly about it. And all of those adventures they had before almost don't matter when Chilchuck is talking to Laios about how, "[He] always found it strange. A well off elf girl wanting to explore the dungeon." (quote may not be exactly correct). Chil doesn't trust "that Marcille" anymore, at least, not as much as he used to. It doesn't help that she is frightening when she is walking the mini dragons away.

When Chil is complaining about his group to the orc (I can't remember her name, forgive me), he admits that they are consistently near death and how his party is reckless and stupid. We know now that he is afraid of losing them and was generally projecting his own feelings of fear. Marcille is included in this, as he complains about her. He, however, mentions her life after the dungeon. "How is she going to live a normal life after this?" He does care for her, but I believe he is projecting here also. How would he live a normal life after witnessing that. What would he do if they're found out?

And this is projected onto Marcille after a while. When Marcille is teaching Laios healing magic and Marcille and Chilchuck discuss party relationships. He implies that she shouldn't have even been let into the group. "I wish he had a better judge of character. That way he'd never find himself in a situation involving black magic." Not to mention in this episode, This being the shot after he says this. They are metaphorically further apart than they have been up until this point and Laios is right in the middle of it.

That friendship is still there. We can see it in places like when Marcille is just holding Chilchuck during the cleaners episode and he's not really angry. But that trust and fear is still there. We see in the Chimera episode, Chilchuck trying to let Marcille know about Shuro and a few others knowing what happened; he is still unhappy to be in this situation and wants to find a way out, but there really isn't a way out.

"I knew it. I had a feeling it would turn out like this. Dammit!"

"Sorry, guys…"

followed by Chilchucks defeated expression. No reassurance, but no fighting either.

This wasn't my best analysis but I am putting my one year of college to use!

I can't wait to see how this changes and expands. I am still only on anime right now, bc my manga are on back order but I'll get there soon enough! @burnazog

[boydepartment]

@ iluvmygf - profiles: non twitter users losers

description: nishimura riki is a headache to his managers. as much as he loves being an idol and as much as he loves that he gets the freedom to travel. he hates that he can’t show you off. publicly… as himself… so he makes a twitter account called @ iluvmygf at first not a lot of people follow it. it goes unnoticed, for a few weeks. until it doesn’t. his account about you goes viral… and people are nosy as to who loves their gf so much to constantly post about her.

genre: romcom, crack, humor, something fun and lighthearted like a hallmark movie. it’s also set from november-february bc i said so and i want a christmas ark 😋🫶 this is an smau

warnings: cursing, most likely crude humor, probably kms jokes

THE GROUP OF 87- six people + riki who bonded over video games. y/n is someone they treasure. she gives them their little taste of normal… and they have to help y/n with her hw but that’s besides the point she ends up with a 70% anyways

y/n l/n’s instagram!

y/n is not an idol at all. she is only friends with idols now because she lost riki at a party one time. a party she wasn’t even supposed to be at but riki made her go. she is the most dorky and goofy person riki has ever met in his life. but she lets him actually be himself. y/n outside of her idol friends is very reserved, she is horrible at any kind of academic, but could tell you about the lore of every fnaf, chilla’s art, or creepypasta anything.

that’s kai and bahiyyih in the ghost costumes btw😋

soul’s(05) instagram account

soul was y/n’s first friend. he spilled his punch on her at the party where she got lost and he made the fnaf 2 jumpscare noise. y/n and soul instantly hit it off after getting into the lore of the whole five nights at freddy’s franchise… at the party…. in public…. talking about five nights at freddy’s

lily’s (02) instagram account

lily overheard y/n and soul talking about this game at the party and was instantly intrigued. she ended up introducing herself to them and then asking about it. let’s just say lily ended up binging all of matpat’s videos on the fnaf lore.

bahiyyih’s (04) instagram account

y/n and bahiyyih met after the party. soul and lily had to go to their respective groups. however, bahiyyih was all alone. and so was y/n. as any girl would do, y/n approached her. ever since they have been inseparable. both feeling like loners sometimes, they understand eachother. y/n and bahiyyih are best friends- platonic soulmates

kai’s (02) instagram account

y/n met huening kai after she met his sister the best person in the world. they hit it off pretty quickly after y/n was invited to the huening family dinner. kai started talking about how he didn’t understand why on earth anyone would pick link in mariokart and y/n started a WILD debate at the dinner table. it ended up with all the huening siblings + y/n laughing. making y/n an unofficial huening.

beomgyu’s (01) instagram account

y/n met beomgyu through kai. and it was on a day where she wasn’t expecting to meet anyone new, so her outfit consisted of a hoodie that said “i ❤️ monty” and mickey mouse christmas pants. beomgyu eyed her hoodie and went on a tangent about how monty is a sick sadistic freak who deserved to be put in a trash compactor like in monsters inc.

nishimura riki’s (05) instagram account

he BARELY uses his instagram ever. riki is a certified twitter user. however…….. y/n does not have twitter…… so he can’t hype up his gf unless he has instagram….

___

MASTERLIST

taglist- open :)

@yourmomscuntis2tighy @yannew @wzy3ka @stellarpsh @czlluvriki @im-yn-suckers @owotalks @filmofhybe @skepvids @ocyeanicc @amymyli @imsodazed @rikislady @j-wyoung @bangchansbangers @sassyfanlawyergarden @miko1ly @itsactuallylina @haewonluvr @entenen @cb97mylove @jxp1-t3r @ineedaherosavemeenow @str4wb3rizz

comment, dm, send an ask, or reblog to be added :) i try to keep up with tag lists however i get a ton of notifications everyday so please lmk if i forget you

[bitchesgate3]

Disclaimer: I have not romanced Minthara nor have I fully played the Dark Urge.

One thing I've experienced whilst having Minthara in my party since Moonrise is that there feels like there are narratively TWO Mintharas. And the Durge break up makes sense for one and not the other.

This 1st Minthara: Upon rescuing Minthara, all your initial conversations are deeply emotional. And later ones at camp are so deeply insightful that her maturity and experience compared to the other companions really stands out.

She understands the plots going on and the subterfuge and conspiracy. She reflects on her experiences with the Absolute, her understanding of the Chosen 3, her gratitude about being saved by Tav, her time under Orin's thrall, and gives us glimpses into the emotions that run through all these experiences.

How does a merciless woman grapple with being shown mercy? Her specifically. Not Dror Ragzlin. Not Priestess Gut. But her - singled out - for mercy?

This Minthara feels like she makes sense of these experiences for herself, to find a life to carve out on her own - integrated with her indomitable spirit. She is a dynamic and nuanced character and makes her a must-have companion for me on ANY playthrough.

However, another Minthara exists.

Minthara is most likely intended to be Chaotic Evil. She comes across as Lawful at times, but I think she was de facto made to be compatible with any type of evil, hence she must be chaotic. As opposed to Lae'zel who with Lawful Evil and disapproves if you are dishonorable in some way.

Astarion in EA was more overtly Chaotic Evil leaning Neutral Evil, and probably more conventionally chaotic because some of what he approved of felt like evil for shits and giggles. Following his whims and entertainment.

Minthara on the other hand is certainly calculated by comparison. She understands that seeding disorder is a way to destabilize an existing power in order to obtain it for one's self. This knowledge of undermining pairs extremely well with the overarching mindflayer plot. So while she may inevitably seek more secure power for herself, her ambient dialogue options encourage chaotic evil in this way.

And that's where this 2nd Minthara character comes in. She is the only companion that consistently disapproves of every "good" aligned decision the other companions make. She encourages you to make deals with Gortash and the Emperor (THE master manipulators), and has all these big plans for world domination right out the gate that she sort of assumes you're on board with.

The most egregious thing for me is that she grants approval for the silliest evil actions in the game.

It's clear to me that being opportunistically evil, selfish, and self-serving makes sense for a character like Minthara who utilizes chaos and fear for her own goals, but I find that because she is the only character who could possibly align that way, Larian gives her EVERY possible [calculated] chaotic evil approval that comes up.

So this 2nd Minthara ends up saying the most contrived, cartoonishly evil dialogue responses that really breaks immersion because it feels as if she's only saying that because she's the only companion who can.

That being said, I don't mind this "2nd Minthara"/Chaotic Evil Minthara existing and actually being a part of her character (because clearly this is intended and part of the authors' vision), but when the 1st Minthara seems to hint at possessing divergent thought while this 2nd Minthara seems stuck in her ways, I can't merge the two entities as the same one.

I actually think the game needs to add flags similar to Gale and the Crown where the more you agree with Minthara on her disapproving of the companions defying their dominators/approving when they align with them, only then you will get the Durge break up if you defy yours.

Just adding those flags - not even adding new content - would be an easy fix and I think would help justify why these two Minthara's even exist.