#so I’m sorry if they’re overly messy

[idk-tbh-idk]

Yo, i saw this post, and went a little bit insane, so I kinda had to…

Non consistent technique cuz idk how people do that

Anyways, this is @uglylilclown’s Noel John Doe, not mine by any means, but I love their John Doe!

[no1deepspacehater]

⸻⋅☾SYLUS - NSFW ABC's☽⋅⸻

TW: Spoilers, General TW (It's Sylus, c'mon now) and mentions of CNC (he doesn't like it, it's just mentioned)

AN: Since he's come out i've been spending so much time exploring his character and unlocking his myths!! This man has me in a chokehold. I'm so sorry Xavier.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s gonna have you in his hold for a bit, he’s not a big cuddler, but he wants you to come down nicely. So it’s a bit of him watching you relax and whipering how good you were etc for a bit.

Then, mostly for him, he’s gonna have a bit of wine (he’s such an alcoholic).

He’ll offer you a bath and shower, which he does take even if you don’t want to (remember, aftercare goes both ways, this is his way to relax.)

But don’t worry, if you want some cuddles he’s willingly, after much teasing of how much of a needy kitten you are.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Everything is his favourite part.

But if he has to choose, his arms and hands.

He’s put a lot of hours into training, without his evol he can still strangle the light from someone’s life on his own and punch the daylight out of them too.

For you, he is an ass and tits man. Why does he have to choose? He can and will have both.

Loves to see a curvy dress on you that shows off your physique. His hand is so quick to slide around your waist, proud to have a good looking person like you by his side to show off.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Thick, clear ropes of the stuff. He almost gets annoyed with how messy it can be.

Not that he’s opposed to covering you with the stuff, no he just prefers to fill you with it.

Loves tasting you, and having you coat his entire hand with your essence.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

During his surveillance of you (stalking), has watched you bathed and shower at least once or twice.

Didn’t make it a habit, even he has lines, but he’s found himself enraptured with just watching you do these simple things.

It weird because he doesn’t watch you masturbate, nor masturbate himself really during the times he watched you shower.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Knows about sex. Fucks.

He’s experienced, you can’t tell me otherwise. He’s had a few workers here and there.

He also knows that just because he has experience with other women, doesn’t mean he knows all about your likings.

But trust, he’ll spend all night learning you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Reverse and regular cowgirl, surprisingly.

Bet let’s dissect, even though you’re the one on top of him, he’s of course in control.

He has no trouble holding you down on top of him, or moving you up and down on him.

And of course, the sight is beautiful to him, he’s in close reach of everything, and of course, most of the time you have no other option to be face to face with him.

Where he can really see wha’t going on in your mind.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I wouldn’t say he’s overly serious, but if you call his constant teasing humorous then he’s fucking hilarious.

But yes, he’s more focused on whispering the most outright naaesstttiest filth close into your ear while you come undone before him.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Shaved down to a minimum and neat. He has his own (very high quality) clippers for down there. Takes pride in his look.

Wouldn’t mind if you like to keep things natural, but does like to have things low for you as well.

Hell, he’ll go crazy if you have some type of design on it!

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s more of a dirty romantic.

But he can be sweet, in his own way.

Telling you how much he adores you, your sounds, your body.

Soft touches, handling you delicately at times.

And he keeps you pretty close during the act, lots of skin to skin touching.

His kisses range from feather light to deep kisses, and leaving marks is definitely one of his acts of affection.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

This might be crazy, but hear me out.

I do not see this man masturbating often.

Maybe like ONCE in a literal blue moon, like if he’s deadly bored. (And let’s face it, he’s too much of a busy man to be bored.)

Also, he’s the most powerful man in the N109 zone, and basically has most of Linkon in his hands, I’m sure he will find someone (You) that will satisfy his needs.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Need I say, BLOOD KINK!?!

Yeah, he get’s down like that, and I will die on this hill.

He’d love to see your pathetic attempts at trying to make him flinch as you draw a blade against his skin, it winds him up.

Won’t go too crazy on you, but let’s just say you’re going to need a bandage for that bike mark.

Ropes, whips, cuffs, he’s into that entire scene, anything to make you submit to him.

Vibrators are common place, one of his favourite things to do is to watch you fall apart without even laying a finger on you.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

One of his many secluded castles or cabins. He can get you as loud as he wants there.

Not that he really cares if anyone hears the both of you.

Prefers to be in a comfortable place really, but doesn’t mind if you want to get dirty in a semi-public place (Like a private room, clubs, office).

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you stand your ground.

Once, you pistol whipped a high ranking gangster during an undercover mission, after he ‘joked’ about a female being in a room. Then you proceeded to berate him and his whole crew coldly and put him in his place.

He was rock hard after that. Wanted to take you then and there.

Also has a thing for you being bratty, replying smartly to his teasing. Makes him want to fuck it out of you.

Seeing you dressed up. He knows you’re not materialistic, and neither is he, but seeing you in a fitting outfit that you bought with his card (that probably cost thousands), drives him crazy.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Consensual-non-consensual, or noncon stuff. Yes, he likes when you’re bratty and put up a fight a little, but not in that way. (He sees the effect of trafficking in the N109 zone, and doesn’t feel comfortable seeing anyone portray that.)

Anything that involves other types of bodily fluids, yes, that type of stuff. He finds it weird.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

LOVES a blowjob with all his cold heart. Would never say no. He can be kind of a head pusher, because he knows it ticks you off, but if you’re not comfortable he can resists, he just likes to hear you choking on him.

Does also like to eat you out, only if you’re cool with him doing it to the point of much overstimulation (he’s going to do that anyway).

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely prefers Slow, sensual, but DEEP!!

You swear, you don’t know how he does it, but he’s gotten to places you can’t even reach with a dildo.

He’ll go wild sometimes and fuck you with sharp, sudden movements, because he’s close but he wants you to come before him (But he won’t tell you that).

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Prefers to have his way with you.

He can get busy at times, so he’s not always available for that. He tends to disappear randomly in the night and show up randomly.

If you beg him enough, rile him up enough secretly, he will not hesitate to push you up against a wall in an alleyway and give you what you’re asking for, just know that he always ties up loose ends, and we will be continuing later.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s very open, apart from the hard no’s.

Likes the heart pounding excitement from taking new, kind of dangerous risks.

Won’t do anything that will put you in serious danger or grievous harms way.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

If it’s night, he’s going to town.

But that’s mostly because he’s taking his time with you.

Short refractory period after the first 2-3 times, then after the 5th time he’s just focused on making you cum.

If it’s the day, let’s say about 2, maybe three rounds max. He’s definitely less energized because he’s normally asleep.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not really toys, since the handcuffs, muzzles and whips have actually been used for other affairs... But they’re multipurpose, anyway, or so he says.

Does invest in vibrators and the like when he sees how much he can do to you with them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Do you really have to ask this, for SYLUS?

The man was practically born to tease. You think it’s his new way of trying to kill you, or drive you insane, at least.

If he’s really feeling like a prick, he’s denying your orgasm a couple times, and punishing you hard if you do, by overstimulating you until you’re shaking.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not a moaner, honestly, if he wasn’t talking you through it most of the time it’d be deadly quiet.

He’ll let out a grunt here and there, a breathy sigh that still gets you weak occasionally.

But of course, he’s talking you through it, and his vocabulary is quite expressive.

With his baritone voice, he could be talking about pineapples and it’d still get you going.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He knows the twins have been trying to eavesdrop sometimes.

Once, you asked if they could watch, and he allowed it.

He can always tell when they're there, and tells you that you spoil them too much.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Big, I don’t care, argue with the wall.

Okay okay, more length than girth if we’re being real, but he’s not skinny either.

At least 9 inches. He’s GIGANTIC, look at him! Def a shower.

VEINY!! Decorated from tip to balls.

His entire shaft turns red from stimulation, the tip being the brightest. It rivals his eyes.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Surprisingly not that high, honestly.

Sure, he likes to tease and rile you up, but it’s not like he’s expecting or wanting sex just because.

Can go pretty long without it honestly, there are other ways of having his fun with you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Unless it’s in the morning/day, he’s staying awake.

Sex is one of the few energy-inducing activities for him that will keep him awake for hours.

Will probably play with your hair, or just lay by you for a while until taking a short nap himself, maybe sipping a few wines to relax him.

[sadesluvr]

Battinson! Bruce Wayne - NSFW Alphabet

A/N: Okay, I know I’m *really* late to the party but for some reason I’m back in my superhero era (I’m a retired Marvel girlie😔✊) and I’ve got Battinson brainrot….This is my first time writing for any Batman, and I haven’t rewatched the movie in entirety so sorry if this isn’t accurate!! :3

Written with a fem! reader in mind, but can be applied to anyone :)

18+ only, Minors DNI!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s always very caring, if not very subtly. I get the vibe that he’d become shy/reclusive after sex again, and so he communicates through his actions. If he lost control with you, he’d get you a rag/water/etc and leave it by you, and either signal to Alfred to run you a bath, or do it himself.

He stares at you, and you *might* not know what he’s thinking, but it’s definitely positive…He loves you and it’s scary :’)

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s quite neutral on his body, but he likes his hands. It’s one of the parts of his body that gets the most work done, and they’re the same ones to protect you. On his partner, even though he appreciates your entirety, he’s a hips and thighs guy.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Prefers cumming in you. It’s a deeply intimate act, and although there are big implications he loves the sensation of your walls clenching around him, and the way he feels inside you.

It’s also less messy! Still, he’s not averse to cumming on you… See W for more ;)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He enjoys voyeurism, or ‘stalking’. Before you’re in an official relationship, he’ll follow you around the city, getting used to the routes you take and places you frequent. It starts off in a place of curiosity and desire to protect, but it gets a little kinky when he sees you semi-nude, or having sex with someone. He literally can’t get the image out of his head, it’s in his contacts…

When you’re together, he likes watching you get ready. We know he’s quiet af, so you won’t ever notice him standing outside a door/in a corner as you get ready, or undressed to take a shower. He’s even watched you touch yourself and it gets him so hard

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

None…Like, he may even be a virgin lmao (Which is HOT if Reader is experienced😳) The first time with you may be a little awkward - he’s not bad, but it takes a while to get him to feel relaxed and vocal about his needs. Practice makes perfect ;)

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Cowgirl - He likes being able to hold onto your waist and thighs while you fuck yourself on him, and he loves looking at you in the heat of the moment. Your whole body is on display, and it’s beautiful.

He also likes missionary!! It’s classic and romantic, and his favourite position to cum inside you. He melts when you cling onto his back and beg in his ear…

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s not overly humorous, and your first times together are deadly serious. But, he’s basically a human cat and whilst he isn’t playful, he will make a dry joke or crack a smile at the little things when the time comes - He just takes a while.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Bruce isn’t a hairy guy, so the carpet definitely matches the drapes. Before being in a relationship with you I don’t see him caring that much of what he looks like down below, but he keeps it trim. Any hair is very light/short to the point that he may as well be clean shaven. He couldn’t care less about what hair his partner does or doesn’t have as it’s not something that’s a dealbreaker for him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

OKAY. At first, he is definitely a little distant, detached even, but it’s literally because he’s inexperienced and is at one of his most vulnerable points. He does the basics, like checking in to see if you’re okay, but it seems a bit strained. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, of course! As time goes on, and he starts to be open to the whole idea of love, he can become very romantic. It’s dark af in the manor already, but he *might* become open to the idea of candles/mood lighting, just for you. He’ll touch and caress you more, say a few words in your ear, and he’ll always give you eye contact! Sex is really revealing for him so it’s always a big affair.

(I headcanon that a lot of his ideas of romance are kind of old fashioned, just because of how he grew up viewing his parents’ marriage, and Alfred is quite the old school gentleman, and the only one around him to give advice…It’s cute🥹)

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Is not a chronic masturbator. Only really does it when he’s very pent up and agitated, or after he’s been around/seen you (ref: D). His loads are pretty normal.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Clothing (?) - Idk if this is a kink, but seeing you in a nice outfit gives him a kick. He definitely likes clothed sex.

Voyeurism - Mentioned in D

Praise kink - He’ll probably never admit it, but he likes hearing how he makes you feel, especially when your relationship is new! He’s inexperienced so he likes the reinforcement.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

A bedroom, or any closed room, preferably. The *only* time he’s willing to shower without Alfred telling him to is when you say you’ll go with him /hj

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

A combination of the little things. He’s definitely attracted to energy, but on the physical side seeing you in a nice outfit gets him going. Like, imagine getting ready for a gala…He’d spend hours watching you get ready, just in awe of how ethereal you look. Touching him, specifically when it’s not inherently sexual - Running your hands on his torso, arms, or the back of his neck to check his injuries or wipe off his makeup. It’s a way of seeing him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hurting you, so no kind of BDSM. The regular things like scatplay/pissplay/bodily fluids. Calling him ‘Daddy’… Absolutely not.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

A CERTIFIED MUNCH. I’m talking that video of James Brown sweating, okay?🙈 He loves to pleasure you, and that means spending hours between your thighs, exploring every inch of your folds. Loves spreading your thighs apart, tracing circles on them as he makes you squirm and you hold onto his hair. He wouldn’t say no to a blowjob once in a while (Cumming in your mouth is his guilty pleasure), but definitely prefers giving. Can make you cum from oral alone.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

A mix of both! It’s always sensual, but sometimes he loses control and will get a bit rough, but it’s underpinned by his desperation and want for release.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t mind them, but prefers when you have 100% of each others’ attention. Quickies in the Batcave definitely hit different, though ;)

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Not much, imo. Outside of having sex in the Batcave he likes to keep his lives separate, especially as he’s from such a well-respected family. Anything in public would be a PR nightmare and he’d rather not.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

The first time, he definitely cums quickly. He’s a little ashamed but it’s kinda flattering. After that, he’s got good stamina - he could probably do three rounds - but it’s dependent on how he’s feeling at the time. He doesn’t sleep much so downtime can be between 5 mins to hours if he wants another session.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own toys, but would secretly love it if you did. Likes watching you use a vibrator - especially when you don’t know he’s watching).

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not a tease, tbh. His hands might linger in certain areas for longer than normal, when he’s in the mood, but other than that there’s not much.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He switches between loud and quiet! When he enters you, he always starts off with little whimpers and grunts, his sounds coming from behind his clenched teeth. As his pace quickens and he cums, he gets louder, with desperate moans and pants coming from deep with his chest. His volume level is at least a 6.5/10, not loud enough to be heard from another room. It’s the same when he masturbates, and he always whispers a little ‘Shit…’ if he thinks he’s making too much noise.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

His contacts have recorded everything. I’ll leave it there.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Above average, but nothing crazy! It’s got more length than girth.

Soft - 4 inches (10cm)

Hard - 5.9 inches, almost 6 (14.9cm)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Average, if not a little lower. He’s human, after all, but his emotional state can get in the way of things. Once you’ve been together a while, it increases as he’s got a person to put to his desires.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t sleep. It’s rare, but sometimes his eyes might *just* fall shut for a few minutes or so after, but he’s pretty much awake beyond that. If you fall asleep quickly, he’ll watch you, or if not he’ll bring you a glass of water/a snack before disappearing again.

[a-kaash-me-outside]

the walls are thin - ch5

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. previous | ch5 | next [masterlist]

// overly attentive and completely different than you ever expected him to be ~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 7955 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: oops, 18+ minors dni eventual smut, masturbation, incessant flirting (as always), msby besties, oh we're doing this already?, feelings are confusing but developing, drinking, frustrating a bit sorry abt that, she/her pronouns

send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

“i miss you,” he complains. you’d think you’d have gotten used to that phrase coming out of his mouth by now, but you can still feel your skin tingle. you roll your eyes nonetheless. 

“it’s not even been a full day,” you retort. 

he mulls over this for a minute before deciding that you’re wrong, “not true.”

“i think it is,” you say, “but even if it has been a full day, that’s kinda…,” you trail off, “pathetic?” 

he laughs, the pang in your heart telling you that maybe it isn’t so pathetic to miss somebody after not seeing them for a few tens of hours. you smile at him, eyes moving away from his gaze after just a few seconds. 

“i miss you too, maki,” you reciprocate. 

“not so pathetic after all,” he points at you through the phone. 

you purse your lips to the side, thoughtful, “no, still pathetic i think, just from both sides.”

“yea, fair,” he says, flipping over in his bed, lying on his side, messy hair against his pillow in a way that you’ve seen in person a few too many times. he called you this morning before the two of you had even gotten out of bed. “so, what did you even do last night without me?”

“well, i was planning on staying in and spending all weekend by myself,” you start, “but i actually went over to atsumu’s last night.”

“you? hung out with atsumu? on a friday night? what kinda things did you have to do for that to happen?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. 

“nothing,” you sneer at him, “he’s the one that suggested it actually.”

“yea, and how did that go?” he asks, tiny tinge of jealousy hidden behind the sarcasm at the end of the sentence.

“weirdly good. i thought he might try to make a move or something, but we just kinda hung out,” you explain, maybe omitting the parts where you fell asleep on his chest and told him that you think about him all the time. 

“and what are you up to tonight?” all of the questions that he keeps asking about your weekend are making you miss him even more, because the answer is nothing but you wish the answer was hanging out with maki.

you sigh dramatically, “well, you guys left me, so i’m having lunch with atsumu, but i’m on my own tonight. which isn’t bad actually, going to just spend some time alone, get caught up on assignments, whatever.”

“i’d probably be having more fun with you,” he admits.

“what? not going good over there?” you ask.

“no, it’s a blast. i’ve missed these guys and it’s been super fucking fun. last night, hajime convinced oikawa to jump in the lake with him and because oikawa was really drunk, he did it, but hajime didn’t jump with him and oikawa was really pissed. swear to god he almost drowned. it was really great,” maki laughs at the thought and then responds to your concerned look, “he didn’t drown, yn, calm down, it was funny.”

“and i’ve got to catch up with people that i haven’t seen since high school,” maki shrugs, pausing, “but i mean, they’re not you.”

you’re about to react, some form of i get that coming out of your mouth as there is a harsh knock on maki’s door. “come in,” maki answers. 

from off screen, you hear oikawa mumble something. it’s quiet. you’re not sure you could’ve made it out if you hadn’t previously spent so much time with oikawa. “hajime wants to go to the diner to get food, get dressed.” 

“alright, alright, i’m just gonna say bye to yn,” maki says, sitting up in his bed. 

there’s a loud squeak of the mattress as oikawa jumps on the bed, you assume. “yn! how is everything back there? making it by without us?”

“it’s been one day, guys,” you groan, jokingly. “but it’s good. i’m good.”

“yn hung out with atsumu last night,” maki says. it sounds like a tattle. 

oikawa tilts his head to the side, “last night?” he’s sporting a devious smile as he pounces on maki, both hands covering maki’s ears as he says hushed, “and how did it go?”

a blush rises to your cheeks at the whole spectacle. maki is trying to push oikawa off of him and oikawa, surely used to testing iwaizumi in the same ways, is able to hold his ground. “good, it went good!” you reply in a laugh.

“and? did anything happen?” 

“no! stop it!” you say, watching as maki finally throws oikawa off of him. 

“okay! okay!” oikawa has both of his hands up in defeat, sliding off of the bed and walking towards the door. “10 minutes, maki, we’re leaving in 10.” the door closes off screen.

maki shakes his head, slightly out of breath, “i gotta go, but i’ll talk to you later, okay? i’ll text you.”

you nod. “and i’ll see you sunday?” you ask.

he tilts his head, questioning, “it hasn’t even been a full day. kinda pathetic.”

“fine,” you say, calling his bluff.

“no! i’ll see you sunday, loser,” he says quickly, “god, let me make fun of you for being obsessed with me once in a while.”

you can’t stop smiling. “alright, alright. see you sunday, maki. can’t wait.”

“can’t wait,” he repeats and then hangs up.

&lt; 11:21 pm < have a good day ♡

> maki ♡ / 11:21 pm > you too ♡

/++/

you’ve forgone yours and atsumu’s lawn blanket set up as per his request, which you weren’t really expecting. after the events of last night, you assumed he might want to have the space to be close to you. maybe not. 

you didn’t ask questions, just chose a familiar picnic table and sat on the side that you knew you could watch atsumu approach from. 

and you do, eyes on him as he walks towards you. he cuts through the lawn, deviating from the concrete path, throwing a smile your way when he recognizes that you’re watching him. 

“yknow it’s almost getting too cold to keep sitting out here,” you say as he approaches, gesturing to your spot on the lawn. your spot. you cross your arms over one another, shivering slightly. fall is settling in, the semester more over than it is started.

he walks around to your side of the bench and sits beside you. you’re not sure if he’s doing this on purpose, making you feel this flustered. when he takes his jacket off, the same one that you met him in, the same one that was hanging on the back of his chair last night, and presents it in front of you, you know that he must be doing this on purpose. 

“are you really giving me your jacket right now?” you ask, mind screaming at you to just grab it. “we’re not in a cheesy rom-com.”

“are ya cold or not?” he asks, extending it a bit further. 

“yes,” you mutter, grabbing it from him and sliding it on. “thank you, tsumu.” you’re enveloped with him, soft fabric infused with his clean scent, and you’re not sure you’re going to give this back, so you hope it’s not that important to him. “it’s cute that your accent comes out when you’re short,” you point out. 

“shuddup,” he says, shaking his head. you scooch over closer to him, legs pressed together. he throws his arm around your shoulder, picks at your lunch, and you’re very aware at how much of a couple you look like right now. it’s quiet, peaceful.

he breaks the silence with a sentence that you’re confused by how he thought it was a good idea, “don’t be mad.”

you immediately face him, expression contorted into confusion and maybe a bit of anger for no reason other than what else are you supposed to feel when someone prefaces with that?

he explains, “i’ve been thinking about what you said last night and-“

“TSUM TSUM!!” 

you jump at the loud voice and nickname. you can’t locate the source so you swivel your head. you search for whoever is calling for atsumu while he continues to explain, “so maybe i told my friends that i think they could meet you and we were getting lunch today.”

“bo, come on, you said you’d be chill,” another voice, a different voice, says. 

“and maybe they didn’t even let me explain, just said they would be there and maybe were a bit too enthusiastic about it?” he shrugs.

you spot the source now, the same buff man from the selfie smiling at you wide and waving excessively. you offer a small wave back. 

“me? meet your friends?” you ask, shocked. you obviously were about to meet his friends. they were crossing the lawn as you spoke. 

“i meant it last night, i just didn’t know you wanted to meet them,” atsumu says plainly. “and if it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.” ba-bump. 

you nod, because you’re certain that if you tried to speak, your words would come out jumbled. 

the two men take a seat across from you. the man with black and white hair beams, “it’s so great to meet you finally. we told him, said she’d probably love to meet us, but i think he’s just been embarrassed about us or something.”

“yn, this is bokuto,” atsumu introduces you. 

“and i’m sakusa,” the man with black hair and curly hair says, introducing himself. 

“it’s really great to meet you both,” you offer.

“hinata is going to be so sad he missed this,” bokuto says, “missing out on finally meeting the girl tsum tsum’s been talking about for weeeeeeks.”

“that’s enough,” atsumu says, shaking his head as he uses his free hand to shake it in front of bokuto. 

“bo’s right,” sakusa reasons, “atsumu does talk about you a lot.”

“guys, see, this is exactly why i didn’t want you to meet her, god,” atsumu says, clearly embarrassed, not used to being on defense around you, not like this. 

bokuto and sakusa are just smiling. 

“she deserves to know,” sakusa reasons, gesturing towards you. 

“yea, i deserve to know,” you speak up. there’s a prideful smile on sakusa’s face.

“never letting you guys interact again,” atsumu shakes his head, scrapes his fingers against your hip in a way that almost makes you jump. you can hear the lightness in his voice and when you turn to look at him, you can see the smallest warm smile. 

“so how do you guys know tsumu?” you ask, nickname slipping out just on instinct. 

neither of them tease you for it explicitly, but they do exchange a knowing look. if you were closer to them you could decipher the hidden meaning of she said it. she said the name. 

“volleyball,” bokuto says, “we all met at volleyball. atsumu is our setter. but also now our best bud.”

“yknow, i don’t think i’ve actually ever asked anything about your volleyball stuff,” you say to atsumu, putting your hand on his knee. you’ve always just talked about it vaguely, no real details. 

“but he's the volleyball guy,” sakusa smirks. 

“no-,” atsumu says.

“yeah! that’s what that guy called you? right?” bokuto asks. atsumu is about to interrupt again, a last-ditch plea on his face, but bokuto doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it, “maki.” your best friend’s name comes out of this stranger’s mouth in a mocking tone and oh my god atsumu talks shit about maki to his teammates/close friends.

there are a million ways you could react to this statement, stammering and stumbling over your words as you land on a sharp laugh. “i- you-,” you can’t stop laughing, “is that? does atsumu-.” you really can’t talk. 

“what?!” atsumu asks as if he has any room to be the one questioning you.

“you just,” tears are forming at the corners of your eyes as you lean into his shoulder, forehead against his jacketless skin, “fuckin- it got to you that badly?” you turn your attention towards bokuto, “is that how he said it?” 

bokuto, ever the betrayer of atsumu, nods his head. 

“quit it,” atsumu says, less shocked and embarrassed now, your laughter infecting him. “that’s how he said it.” there’s a smile behind the words, soft laughter coming along with it. when you don’t stop laughing for another few seconds, and then a few more, atsumu wraps his arms around you, smothering him in his strong arms. “yer being ridiculous.”

you push away from him and in between your fits of simmering down laughter, subsiding for only a few seconds at a time before picking back up again, you catch the smile on sakusa’s face that says so clearly that you can tell without knowing him at all, so this is why he can’t stop talking about you.

once you’ve finally composed yourself, you turn to sakusa and bokuto, “and you guys play?”

“we both play outside hitter,” sakusa explains, looking like he’s about to elaborate a bit further, but atsumu interrupts.

“since i’m the setter, that means that i’m kinda like the brains of the operation.”

“oh, fuck off, miya,” sakusa says, rolling his eyes. 

you laugh, “i know what a setter does.”

“how? we’ve never talked about it?”

“well, no, but i’ve seen maki play plenty of times,” you note, “oikawa’s a setter. maki and iwa play outside hitter. you didn’t know they played too?”

“oh my god, they’re both the volleyball guys,” sakusa comments, leaning back in his seat like he’s just had the biggest epiphany. 

“fuck off, omi,” atsumu sneers and then turns his attention back to you, “you never told me.”

you put your hands up, “i don’t know! i guess it just never came up.”

bokuto reaches out his arm, grabbing your forearm excitedly. “well, one day you’ll have to come watch us play, yn,” he says, smiling brightly at you. 

“i would really love that, actually. tsumu’s never invited me to one of his games before, so,” you say, shrugging. honestly, it had never been a thought on your mind before, a lot of things hadn’t been on your mind before, but now that you’re sitting here with his very fun friends, you really want to be a part of it all. a part of this side of his life, not the one that you’ve created and pulled him into, lunches and tiny meet ups and dragging him to the grocery store and having him babysit your plants, but whatever this is that’s making your chest feel so light. 

“or let you meet us,” sakusa chimes in. 

“yea, for good fuckin’ reason,” atsumu quips back.

“well, consider yourself officially invited to our next game,” bokuto nods, “here, give me your number and we can-.”

“no way,” atsumu interjects. 

you’re already reaching into your bag, pulling out your phone, ready to punch in bokuto’s phone number. 

“i really don’t need you guys to have more ways to talk shit about me,” atsumu says, but there’s no malice in the words. 

“i wasn’t going to talk shit about you, tsum tsum,” bokuto rolls his eyes, offering out his hand for you to drop your phone into. atsumu is skeptical as he lets you give your phone over to bokuto. as soon as his fingers curl around the phone, bokuto finishes his thought, “but there are plenty of cute photos of you that i have that don’t seem very fair for yn not to have.”

atsumu lunges forward to grab the phone out of bokuto’s hand, but bokuto pulls it back quickly. “bokkun, i swear to god,” atsumu says, standing up as best he can while still being inside of the bench. bokuto is already two steps ahead, springing from his seat, nearly hitting sakusa as he does. 

“watch it,” sakusa warns. 

bokuto is gone, running away as he presses buttons on your phone. atsumu is much more careful on his side, makes sure to unravel from you before stepping out of his seat. “i’m not kidding!” despite the head start bokuto acquired, atsumu is already almost on his heels. bokuto is laughing, head thrown back as he messes with your phone. 

sakusa takes this moment of chaos to talk to you directly. his voice pulls you out of this awestruck daze watching atsumu jump on bokuto’s back. “i can see why he talks about you all the time,” sakusa says lowly across the table as bokuto runs in circles with atsumu on his back as if he weighs nothing at all.

you’re feeling a bit more confident at this sentence, a bit more easily yourself, so you let it slip as you turn to face sakusa, joking as you say, “what? i’ve proven how cool i am in this tiny lunch?”

sakusa chuckles, breathy, before nodding affirmingly, “not exactly what i meant, but yes, that too.” he pauses, contemplating if the thing he’s about to say next is pushing a boundary, saying too much, figuring out how to phrase it before it actually comes out of his mouth. “i meant more that i understand why he talks about you all the time.”

you’re quiet, tilting your head curiously. 

he doesn’t let you sit on your thoughts, finishes his sentence right as bokuto and atsumu are running back towards the table, “because he’s really into you.”

you don’t get to respond, interrupted by bokuto hiding on one side of you, finishing whatever he’s doing on his phone before thrusting the phone back into your hands. he sticks his tongue out at atsumu and atsumu narrows his eyes. “atsumu’s just worried that he’s going to fuck up at our game when you’re there.”

this is all so cute, the bantering and the things that bokuto is saying, but you have so many fucking questions. you want them to run back over there for hours so that you can have a long, in-depth conversation with sakusa about what exactly he fucking means. 

you don’t want to seem unresponsive or like you can’t keep up, so you reply, “maybe i’ll bring maki along and he can show off like he always does.” you almost regret it, but sakusa and bokuto start laughing just like you were laughing earlier and bokuto is slamming his fist on the table and atsumu doesn’t look hurt at all, he looks amiable. 

you turn your head towards atsumu, the laughter allowing you cover to speak just for him, “or i’ll just go and cheer you on. if you’ll have me there.” atsumu gives you a short, affectionate nod. 

sakusa and bokuto leave about a half hour (that’s spent mostly making fun of atsumu the entire time) after that, saying that they’ll see you again soon, they’re sure, and waving as they leave. as soon as they’re out of earshot, atsumu lets out a huge breath. 

“i told you,” he says, shaking his head, body finally relaxed in a way that makes you realized he was tense the entire time. “i told you that they were fucking weird.”

“they’re not weird, they’re sweet,” you say back. there is a certain peacefulness now that you assume only exists because of the huge absence of noise. it’s not better, just more familiar. you slot your fingers into atsumu’s, holding onto his forearm with your other hand. 

“yea, if you’re not on the other side of all of their bullshit,” atsumu shakes his head. 

“maybe if you didn’t talk about me so much,” you tease.

“don’t let it go to your head,” he says, lifting his arm that you don’t have a hold of and tapping on your forehead. you press your forehead into him, laughing. 

the two of you sit together for another few hours, pulling work out of your bags that neither of you really focus on. you mostly spend the time cracking jokes at the other’s expense or for the other to laugh at and finding new ways to get tangled into each other on a picnic table bench until it’s time to leave.

“i’ll see you sometime tomorrow, yeah?” you ask, moving around school work and responsibilities and seeing maki in your head to make room for atsumu in your day.

he leans forward, presses the quickest, smallest kiss into the side of your cheek, “obviously.” as he leaves, the warmth stays, on your cheek and down your chest, through your fingers and toes. partially because of the kiss, sure, but mostly because of the hoodie he’s entrusted in your care. 

/++/

you are both so excited for and dreading your night alone.  you are excited because it’s been awhile since you’ve just had some time in your room by yourself. you are welcoming the extra time to catch up on assignments and take a shower and not do anything else that requires thinking. 

you are, however, despite all of this, mostly filled with dread. saturday night is a staple miya atsumu hookup night. last week it was fine, the week before that, sure, whatever, but after last night, the thought of atsumu hooking up with some random girl that he found out at a party is bringing back a familiarly upset stomach. if you hadn’t had spent the night last night as you did, a taboo listening session might even have been in the stars tonight, would have been maybe really welcomed. 

but now you’ve slept in his bed. you’ve been in his arms. you’ve been on the other side of the wall. there are memories attached to this vision of him now. when you close your eyes, you can see his room so clearly. if you had to think about them in his bed, the one that you felt safe cuddled next to him in, the one where he told you about all of his childhood friends, if you had to think of her on his pillow instead of you? 

you take a deep breath, closing your eyes. you will have a great night all by yourself even if that means sleeping on the farside of your room and using your noise canceling headphones at full volume.

the later it gets into the night, the more antsy you’re getting. hours are ticking by and you have never been this productive in your life, assignment after assignment finished just to stop yourself from thinking for longer than a few seconds. you won’t have to worry about school work for the next few weeks. 

it’s nearly 1 am by the time that you’ve finished all of the work that you possibly can, which, in hindsight, was such a horrible idea. finishing all of your work before the 1-3 am time of the night? 

well, maybe if you’re just not in your room when he gets back, you can just put your headphones on and not have to think about it at all tonight. you grab a change of clothes, your towel, all of your bathroom essentials, and make your way to dorm showers at the other end of the hall. 

your shower takes much longer than it should because you make sure that it does, but somewhere along the way you must have pissed someone off, something from your past must be coming back to haunt you because instead of timing it perfectly to miss him completely, you’ve timed it perfectly to catch him completely. 

he’s all dressed up, hair perfectly done in a way that begs to be messed up, stupidly cute outfit, something plain but looks insanely good on him, enough cologne to fill the entire hallway, and, only when he sees you walking down the hallway, a huge smile on his face. 

you feel extremely underdressed, walking up to him. partially on account of the fact that you are wearing a huge tshirt, underwear, and absolutely nothing else. you don’t know if he’s already been drinking, if he doesn’t notice, or if he doesn’t care, but his eyes follow down your body slowly. 

every single moment in your life has happened because of a culmination of things; this is just a fact. everything that has happened in your life up until this moment has built up to this moment, that’s how living works. you knew this. 

but god you wish you could see a chart, could zoom in on every single point that had a hand in this moment and alter them in some sort of way that wouldn’t have caused you to say what comes out of your mouth. 

you look down at your phone screen, checking the time. “woah, you hung out with me on friday and no company tonight?” you ask as you step around him and in front of your door. why would you say that. 

you know why, vaguely, not completely. you’re not completely sure why you chose to essentially divulge the biggest secret you’re harbored of your entire college career in one sentence, but you know that it had something to do with how flustered you were in that moment, how good atsumu looks in front of you, and maybe the fact that it’s all you’ve been able to think about tonight.

it slips out, really, no barrier of judgment. you guys have been friends for too long. the quips and the teasing come so naturally now that you can’t help it. 

this is the first time that you’re admitting this to him. your heart is pounding as you wait for him to respond. he’s not responding quick enough. you hope that he just doesn’t clock it, doesn’t understand the implications of the joke.

he furrows his eyebrows together, stopping completely, “what?”

your body is burning. how do you backtrack from this. where do you go from here.

when you don’t answer immediately, his mind starts filling in the blanks, and he starts asking more questions, “company?”

“yea, like,” you clear your throat, shifting your towel under your arm, “y’know saturday nights and company.”

he turns to face you completely and you feel like this is your first time meeting him. you feel small, tiny, chest aching because of the violence of your heart. even more so when you see the embarrassment creeping onto his face. “how would you know if i have company?”

this is it. the fucking moment. it’s been over 4 months. the two of you have lived next to each other for nearly an entire semester. you went 2 months without even knowing him, 1 month with fixing all of your previously conceived notions, and this past month falling for him and it’s all about to go crashing down because of a stupid joke you’ve made. 

“you weren’t exactly subtle about it,” you answer and you’re amazed at how your voice is actually audible. 

a lot of things click for atsumu in that moment, you can see it on his face. 

“you heard that?” he asks, quietly stunned.

“all of it,” you answer.

it’s quiet for a moment. you can’t even hear the hum of the lights or the beat of your own heart as you wait for his reaction to the admission. 

“fuck,” atsumu says, palm smoothing over his face, “god, i can’t recover from that at all can i? holy shit.” he doesn’t ask why you didn’t tell him. he doesn’t look put off or uncomfortable. “holy shit. okay. well, fuck.”

you’re about to apologize when he shakes his head, fingers pushing through his hair. you can’t exactly read whatever emotion is there, maybe panic? you can’t get a good read because it’s gone soon thereafter. 

“no,” he says slowly, “i don’t have company tonight. was going to go out and drink with some friends, but i left my ID in my room.” he gestures to the keys in his hand, knuckles white around them. “you still alone this weekend?”

you nod, not really knowing what to do, where to go from here still. he’s not being weird. he’s trying to resume conversation with you, but something feels off. you want to say, “yea, i said i’d be alone all weekend, don’t you listen?” but any joke that comes to you feels too harsh, too out of place, terrified that it’ll end up an admission of something else.

“do you want-,” he begins to ask, but you shake your head so hard that you’re convinced you shake water droplets out of your hair and onto him. 

“no, no, are you kidding? i look like this,” you gesture down.

atsumu looks like he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. fuck. you’ve really ruined things now. 

“go out with your friends,” you say, nodding your head down to the elevators. 

“we don’t have to go out,” atsumu adds.

“i’m not keeping you in on the weekend again,” you say, shifting your weight. “seriously, i’m okay alone tonight, you go on out.”

“do you want to drink?” he asks, persistent as always.

“tsumu, i told you, i’m not going out tonight,” you say. the nickname is muscle memory at this point and you’re glad that at least you have some sort of remnants of a few minutes ago. 

“just, here, we can drink here,” he gestures to his dorm room. you feel like a fucking freshman again. “if you don’t want to drink, that’s cool. i just-” he hesitates. it looks more difficult than it ever has, but he steps towards you and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “it feels weird for the first time between us and i don’t think i can leave if you’re not feeling okay,” he finishes, overly attentive and completely different than you ever expected him to be, and you feel so horrible.

“tsumu-,” you start, but he isn’t having any of it.

“i’m serious.”

“one drink,” you say, “and then you go out with your friends.”

/++/

the thing about one drink is that nobody really has one drink. 

or, rather, you do at first and then you have another because the guy that you’re really into is in front of you, telling joke after joke trying to make you feel better about your relationship because you’ve just admitted that you’ve heard him having sex all semester.

and unfortunately for you and your self-deprecation, the guy that you’re really into is really good at making you feel better, not just with jokes and compliments, but with soft touches and genuine smiles. 

“i can’t believe you’re staying in with me when you look like that,” you say, shaking your head. you didn’t even have time to change, are still in the same post-shower outfit that you were before. 

“come on, you look better than i do,” he says, shaking his head, taking a sip of his drink and gesturing to you with his cup.

you’re sitting on his floor because the bed was a bit much after the painful conversation you had in the hallway. he’s sitting in front of you, back against his desk, as he sets his drink on the floor beside him. you let yourself flush, accept his compliment if only to fasttrack back to how it felt between the two of you before. 

the thing about more than one drink is that nobody really chooses a stopping point, not when the awkwardness has faded and the guy that you’re really into continues to stay the night with you. and definitely not when said guy has taken root next to you, pressed up against you completely. 

“fuck,” he shakes his head out of nowhere. he doesn’t even give you an opportunity to ask what, just repeats himself, louder, “fuck.”

“what?” you ask, turning to look at him, but not moving a single inch away from him.

“i can’t believe you heard all of that,” he says, shaking his head against the side of the bed. he laughs lightly, unbelievably. “that’s really just so embarrassing.”

for the first time tonight, at the mere mention of it, you don’t want to crawl into your room and cry. you’re not sure what exactly it is (it’s the alcohol), but you laugh with him, light at first, and then growing until you’re shaking your head. it is actually kinda funny. 

“it was funny at first, honestly,” you tell him, “i was like oh my god?? and then it progressively got, yknow, not as funny when i had morning classes and exams.”

“is that why we didn’t meet for the first two months of living next to each other?” he asks, turning his head to look at you. and he does, look at you, stares into your eyes with the amount of focus that someone as drunk as the two of you should not have been able to do.

“not really, more like a gift from god,” you say.

“hey,” he whines.

“yea, that night we met i was coming back from maki’s because i couldn’t take it anymore,” you admit to him. you can see the embarrassment settle in even heavier than before, a remorse coming alongside it. after all this time, you really didn’t mean for him to feel bad about it. “you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“i mean, that’s so- i can’t believe-,” he stammers. you’re not used to seeing him like this and you understand why he had to have at least one drink with you before going out, because right now atsumu is feeling exactly how you felt out in the hallway and all you want to do is fix that.

even if it is at your own expense. 

“it’s fine, really, it’s fine,” you say, “it was funny at first, and then annoying, but i mean, eventually-” don’t you fucking dare “eventually it was good for me too.” stop fucking talking.

now he looks really confused and if you don’t explain no fucking stop he’s going to be even more weirded out. 

“well, i just mean, like,” you shrug, “like eventually i started to enjoy it.” shut the fuck up. 

he chooses his next words carefully, or as carefully as he can when the room is slightly moving. “like how?”

don’t say a fucking word. “like listening,” you admit. even in your drunken state, your stomach does flips. 

his face still has tiny elements of confusion, but most of it morphs into something much needier than that. “to me?”

you nod, movements barely noticeable but they’re making your head spin. the air is still, room quiet save for both of your quickened breathing. then, the only thing you can see is his hand, moving so slowly that you assume he’s afraid he’ll scare you off. he reaches across you, cups your cheek and pulls you to face him. when you’re looking at him, he doesn’t move his hand. 

he leans in towards you and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol in your body or the fact that an hour ago you were terrified that you would never be able to be in this room again, but you lean forward to meet him. he stops, just shy of your lips, talking so low that you can feel the vibrations against your lips. “and doing what?” he asks.

the whimper comes from your throat, lips tightly shut so it doesn’t have a chance to escape you. you lean forward further, pressing your forehead against his as his hand slides down your cheek to your jaw, fingers spanning your neck, curling softly so that his nails drag against your sensitive skin. you can feel it in your entire body. 

he lowers his head, nudges your chin with his nose, pushing your head further into his hand, exposing your neck. “can i?” he asks, breath tickling as he speaks. you’re not sure if he realistically thought you would deny him right now of anything that he wanted, really. you nod softly, not wanting to break out of his grasp.

the first thing that you feel are his teeth, scraping against the softness of your neck. and then you feel his lips closing around the skin. you close your eyes, no point in keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling, anyway. atsumu licks a strip up your neck before moving down again. he uses his free hand to pull at the neckline of your shirt, exposing your collarbones. he wraps his lips around the bone, sucking repetitively until you’re positive that there’s purplish marks wherever he picks his head up from.

his moves his hand from your jaw, trust you to keep the position that he’s moved you into, and you do. he rewards you for this, both hands smoothing down your body, following your curves, digging into them as he pleases, latheing his tongue over the same spots on your neck and chest. 

“tsumu,” you whine, not really sure for what, but just for more. his hands are on your thighs now, his fingernails pressing harshly into the fats of them before sliding upwards underneath the hem of your shirt. he can feel your skin in his hands now, can’t get enough of it as he moves his hands everywhere and anywhere he can. 

when he gets to your chest, takes both of your perfectly soft tits into his hand, you hear him stifle a grunt. he moves one hand quickly, grabbing at your hip, sliding down from your waist, pulling you towards him, facing towards him so that he can feel you again, so that he can play with your tits better. his touch is harsher this time, more desperate, more purposeful as he goes straight for your tits, no longer ghosting over your skin, but aching for your heavy tits to be in his hands. 

god, he can only imagine what they fucking look like all pretty and bouncing for him. fuck he needs to see them.

he pulls away from you, sits up from against the bed, moves in front of you. he’s on his knees, towering above you in your seated position. you’re looking up into his eyes, whimpers falling from your quivering lips. he cups your face again. you’re ready. you’re completely ready to recall every little thing that you have heard over the past month. you know atsumu, you know exactly what he likes, and you’re going to blow his fucking mind. 

knock knock knock.

just before his lips can touch yours, there’s a pounding knock on his door. 

“no fucking way,” atsumu says under his breath. 

“miya atsumu, get your ass out here now or i’m breaking down the fucking door.” knock knock knock knock knock knock. it's almost scary until you hear laughter from the hallway, snickering at first and then boisterous. 

“come on, i don’t even interrupt,” you say to atsumu, looking towards the door. 

knock knock knock knock knock knock. “we know you’re in there.”

“they’re not going to leave it alone until i answer,” he says, defeated, “i have to answer and then- then i’ll be right back and-.”

“atsumu, you have 10 seconds and i’m gonna start ramming,” the voice says.

atsumu scurries up from the floor, walking quickly over to the door as you adjust yourself, smoothing out your oversized tshirt and patting your hair. “what?” he hisses as he cracks the door open. the person on the other side of the door pushes it open completely. 

“we’re going out,” one voice says.

“another night,” atsumu says, the door already closing.

“i’m not leaving without you,” another voice replies, not pushing the door back open. 

“and i’m not leaving,” atsumu says, and you can tell he’s getting impatient now. 

from your spot on the floor, you recognize one of them as a guy from one of the photos. dark hair, carefree attitude. suna? you can’t remember exactly if you’ve gotten the name right. you’re surprised that you’ve even noticed the person at all. you don’t recognize any of the other two guys that are with him.

one of them, not suna, makes eye contact with you for the tiniest fraction of a second, “you literally have any other day to hookup with some chick.” you wonder if he thinks they’re being quiet. your cheeks burn. you want to be back in your room now. 

“it’s not like that,” ba-bump, he says, trying to quiet them a bit or at least just bringing his own volume down. 

“doesn’t matter,” one of them says.

“i didn’t want to spoil it, but,” suna says, “samu’s here.”

atsumu gets quiet for a second, really mulling over the weight of everything that’s happening, at the two sides that are pulling him in different directions. “samu’s here?”

“yeah, he was supposed to be here earlier, but his train got in super late and so he just got here and he wants to go out because it’s a saturday night. it was supposed to be a surprise or whatever, but you’re not listening to me, your best friend, and just leaving now. so that’s what you get,” suna spews.

“but i-,” atsumu says, instinctively looking back towards you. the look that you’re wearing almost makes him stay. “fuck.” he slams the door on the trio of guys and you are so grateful. you finally feel like you can breathe, can relax just the tiniest bit. he walks back over to you. “i’ve gotta-.”

you push yourself up from off of the ground, stumbling a little bit as atsumu helps you back onto your feet. “you don’t have to explain yourself, tsumu, go hang out with your friends.”

“if samu wasn’t here, i wouldn’t-.”

“i know,” you say. and it’s the truth. you 100% fully believe him with all of your heart. 

“you could go out with us,” he offers.

you’re not sure that you could handle being referred to as some chick all night or atsumu’s side piece or looked at like you’d never be looked at again. you weren’t ready for a miya atsumu night out and definitely not when you’re already feeling it as much as you are. you shake your head. “you go and have fun, see your brother.”

he looks so torn, so frantic as he tries to think out the rest of his night, how to get drunk you back to your dorm without having to expose you to the people in the hallway. “i’m probably going to stay with rin and samu tonight anyway. do you want to just stay here and maybe,” he hesitates, the knocking starts again, “you can meet my brother in the morning?”

“really?” you ask. 

knock knock knock knock. “it’s literally so getting so fucking late. hurry your ass up.”

atsumu helps you into his bed in not exactly the way he wanted to help you into bed tonight. “yes,” he answers, pulling the blankets over you, the softness of them so familiar. “and samu will love you and you will love him unfortunately.” atsumu reaches down and kisses your cheek. somehow it has you more flustered than anything that’s happened tonight. “tomorrow, okay?”

you nod. 

he moves quickly after he’s noticed how content you are, throwing on his shoes, grabbing his ID from his desk, muttering under his breath things that you’re not sure are meant for you. fucking kidding me now? gonna beat the shit out of him for fucking i can’t fucking. 

“goodnight, yn,” he says, reaching for the door, but not opening until you’ve said it back.

“goodnight, tsumu.”

you hear a click of the door, your eyes closing softly. and then you hear the voices. 

“you’re seriously leaving her in there?”

“guys- seriously,” atsumu says, trying to stop the questions about what was happening in the room before they showed up.

“why’re you leavin’ a one night stand in your-”

“i said it wasn’t fucking like that. leave it,” atsumu says through gritted teeth. you hear the lock click.

“no fucking way. that was fucking her wasnt it?” suna asks.

“stop, she can fucking hear you, the walls are thin,” atsumu snaps. 

you listen for the footsteps as they get quieter and quieter until you can’t hear any at all. you know you should be tired. you are tired, but you’re also in atsumu’s bed all alone. your eyelids are heavy and your breathing is slow and-

you reach your hand down between your legs. 

with the scenes that are playing in your mind, you’re almost sure you could make yourself come with one tiny finger. you spread your lips apart with two fingers, sliding your middle finger down your drenched slit. you push the tip of your finger against your hole, head tilting back messily into his pillow. 

he barely did anything to you at all, felt you up and kissed your neck, and you are soaking wet. your mind won’t stop wandering at where the night could have taken you if you weren’t interrupted. how deep he would be inside of you right now if you hadn’t been interrupted. at that thought, you plunge your fingers inside of you, moaning at how good they feel, but they’re not enough.

you’re missing your dildo, your fingers can’t reach deep enough, not even as you shove another finger in and circle your hips on them. you make the mistake of kneading at your tit, but it only leaves you missing the feeling of his huge hands grabbing at them. you’re feeling so fucking needy. it’s not enough that you’re doing this in his bed, you need to be doing it for him. you roll your hips against your fingers.

your clit rubs against the rough texture of the blanket and you almost come on the spot. “fuck,” you say aloud. you take your other hand on the outside of the blanket and push the fabric in between your legs, circling your hips against it. “mm fuck, tsumu.”

the blanket feels so good against you. he’s slept underneath these blankets, has probably jacked off to the thought of you underneath these blankets “fuck!” you say louder. you know exactly how loud you’re being, but you also know that no one that you care about is around to hear them. 

your hands search around the bed. you don’t have time to feel any regret. it feels so good, you’re chasing this high, so fucking close. your skin feels like it’s crawling, aching. you fucking need this. you throw the blanket off of you, take your panties off and throw them across the room somewhere that you’re sure you will regret when you have to get them in the morning, but you need to feel it completely against your swollen lips and pretty clit. 

you take the pillow that’s underneath your head and shove it between your legs. you press down on the soft pillow as hard as you can to get as much friction as you can as you fuck your clit into fabric that smells so fucking much like atsumu. you’re drenched, sloppy against his pillow but you can’t stop. your fingers grip into the cushion, his name falling off of your tongue like an unheard prayer. 

“please, so close, so close,” you say, thrusting your hips against the pillowcase faster. you’re going to come. you’re going to fucking come on the pillow that he’s going to sleep on. “oh my fucking god,” you cry and you let yourself go, flooding as you come against his pillow. you can feel the mess that you’ve made smearing against the textured fabric.you can’t move. your bones feel like they’ve been replaced with bricks, but you need to see it. you pull the pillow up, your eyes instantly drawn to the large wet spot right in the center. fuck. you throb, so painfully empty. “fuck,” you mutter to yourself and put the pillow back between your legs, “not enough.”

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[ghosttotheparty]

@thorniest-rose this is ur fault your tags on part one made me emotional so here’s one more part <3 love u also i added it as chapter two of broken brain <3

cw: tics; self-deprecation

“Hey, baby.”

Eddie looks up from where he’s sitting at the kitchen island, his legs crossed on his seat in front of him, setting his pen down.

“Hi.”

“How’re you?” Steve asks softly, taking off his vest and dropping it on the countertop, coming close.

“Having a rough day,” Eddie says, the words barely out of his mouth before his chin jerks to the side, turning his head sharply. He closes his eyes, sighing heavily, and before he can open them, Steve is sliding his hands over Eddie’s neck gently, rubbing it tenderly. Eddie moves slowly, shifting to face Steve, and before he can lean into Steve’s torso, his hand flies out and hits Steve’s hip hard. Eddie flinches, pressing his hand to the spot carefully.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Steve murmurs, one of his hands pushing through Eddie’s hair. Eddie’s stomach twists, and he huffs quietly, closing his eyes. “What is it?”

Eddie shakes his head, opening his eyes to look up at him.

Steve touches his face, his fingers brushing over his cheek, over the rough, sensitive skin of his scar, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“What is it?” he asks quietly.

Eddie exhales, turning his cheek into Steve’s palm, feeling the tension leave his body.

“…How are you not tired of me?” he asks after a moment.

Steve blinks, his expression hardening, but his hands remain soft on him.

“What do you mean?” he asks in a small voice.

“I just…” Eddie shrugs weakly. “Feel like you should be fed up with me by now,” he half-jokes, but Steve frowns, his fingers trailing over Eddie’s jaw.

“Why would you think that?” he asks quietly, like he’s offended.

Eddie blinks at him, his eyes stinging a little bit. His hand tightens on Steve’s hip, one of his fingers holding loop of his jeans.

“I keep hitting you,” he says weakly. It happens often. Not as often as his whistling, or his head jerking, his eyes squeezing shut or rolling to the ceiling, but often. When they’re on the sofa, when they’re hugging, when they’re just talking. Eddie wants to cry every time, but Steve doesn’t even acknowledge it, except for the occasional it’s okay.

“You can’t control that, babe,” Steve says adamantly.

“I know, it’s just…” Eddie looks away, frustrated. “I keep hurting you.”

“I think you think you hit a lot harder than you do.”

“Steve,” Eddie says seriously, tugging at his belt loop, looking up at him. “I almost smacked you in the face the other day.”

“You redirected,” Steve says lightly, shrugging.

“Steve.”

“Do you want me to be mad at you?”

“I…” Of course he doesn’t. But it feels like Steve should be mad at him. Or at least annoyed. “I don’t know.”

“Well I’m not,” Steve says firmly, holding his chin. “Ever. Okay?”

It doesn’t make Eddie feel better. He exhales, looking down, at the blue ink on the top of Steve’s thigh, rough doodles on his jeans from when he gets bored at work.

Steve sighs, pushing Eddie’s hair back before he lets go of him, moving so Eddie’s hand falls from his hip, and he pushes Eddie’s sketchbook out of the way, looking at the drawing on the open page. It’s an unfinished sketch, messy and not very good at all in Eddie’s overly humble opinion, but Steve smiles at it.

“‘S good,” he says softly as he pulls himself up onto the counter. Eddie watches him, watches the muscles of his arms flex, and his cheeks flush with warmth when Steve reaches for the armrests of his chair and easily pulls him closer, between his legs.

Eddie looks up at him, that familiar feeling settling in his chest, and he reaches his hands up, setting his arms across Steve’s legs, holding his hips again.

“Talk,” Steve says softly. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” He touches said head, runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair, scratches at his scalp. Eddie wants to cry.

Eddie sighs, leaning to rest his cheek on Steve’s knee, closing his eyes.

“Just…” His shoulder jerks slightly. He ignores it. “I don’t know. Kinda crazy you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

“Why would I ever get sick of you?” Steve asks softly, playing with Eddie’s hair. “Hm?”

“Because I keep hitting you,” Eddie says sullenly, letting go of Steve’s hips. “Because I… throw things and hit things and I’m… noisy.” He pushes Steve’s shirt up with one hand, the other falling under the island, untucking it and pressing his hands under the fabric to Steve’s skin. “I interrupt. I’m annoying.”

Steve pulls his hands away and untucks the rest of his shirt, holding it up with one hand so Eddie can trace his scars softly, gazing.

“You’re not annoying, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t believe him, and Steve can tell.

“Eddie, baby, look at me.”

Eddie looks at him without lifting his head. His vision is obstructed by his hair, and Steve gently moves it out of the way.

“You are not annoying,” he says again, softer, his eyes shining earnestly. “I know you can’t control it.”

“That just makes it more annoying,” Eddie grumbles.

“No, it doesn’t.” Steve’s fingers drag through his hair.

Eddie exhales, looking back at where his hand is tracing Steve’s scars.

“You’re annoyed by it,” Steve says, and Eddie nods against his leg. “I’m not, Eddie.”

Eddie is quiet, a tingling starting on his shoulders like he’s going to shiver, and he tenses.

“Alright, Eddie, look at me,” Steve says, his voice shifting, tapping Eddie’s cheek to prompt him to lift his head. Eddie does, muttering a soft, “Hold on,” and looking away. He pushes his shoulders back, closing his eyes, and Steve waits quietly, patiently, until Eddie’s head jerks back violently, and his shoulders shrug up suddenly. A second passes before Eddie drops his head, sighing and relaxing.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Eddie shivers before he looks up at him tiredly, and Steve leans down, holding his face between his face, looking into his eyes.

“I need you to, like, really listen to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes.

“When I say that you’re annoying,” Steve says, still looking into his eyes, “or obnoxious, or any of those things, I don’t mean it. I’m just teasing. And if you don’t like it, or if it hurts you, I’ll stop.” He looks so earnest that Eddie almost hurts. “And when I say those things,” Steve says slowly, carefully and intentionally, “I’m talking about how you act with the kids, usually. When you’re…” He shrugs, smiling softly. “Immature and chaotic. But even though I tease, I love when you act like that.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“Even though it riles them up?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Because they get to just be kids when you’re fucking around with them.”

Oh.

Eddie smiles softly.

“And,” Steve continues, “when I say those things, I am never, ever talking about your tics. You understand me?”

Eddie nods weakly, his eyes burning.

“You are not annoying to me, Eddie,” Steve says softly, leaning down and leaving a careful kiss on his lips. “I promise.”

“Don’t you get tired?” Eddie asks, exasperated. Steve looks at him.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks quietly.

“It’s constant, Steve,” Eddie says, his eyes burning. “And you just… put up with it, you— you’re always getting me ice, or holding my hand still, or getting pillows for me, or…” He exhales, looking up at Steve desperately. “You’re always taking care of me.”

“I like taking care of you,” Steve says adamantly. Eddie looks away, holding back an eyeful. “Eddie, I’m serious, look at me.”

Eddie looks up at him. His lips are pressed together, his eyes shining with some unreadable, desperate emotion.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

Steve leans down and kisses him, holding his face between his hands so his cheeks are squishing under his palms, sucking softly on his lower lip, slow and careful like everything he’s ever done with Eddie.

He pauses when they part, their foreheads pressed together, breathing a little hard, holding Eddie close. Eddie slides his other hand under Steve’s shirt. His skin is warm. His scars are rough, the skin thick and sensitive, tender evidence of his survival. Eddie likes to kiss them.

“I love you,” Steve whispers.

Eddie’s eyes open. His breath escapes him, and it’s like his bones melt. He slumps, squeezing his eyes shut as the words wash over him, his hands squeezing Steve’s sides softly.

“Really?” he chokes, pulling away after a moment. Steve’s eyes are tear-filled.

“Really really,” he says softly. Eddie blinks tears back, sliding his hands over Steve’s sides.

“I don’t get tired of taking care of you,” Steve murmurs, looking at Eddie’s face, his thumb brushing over his trembling lip, “because taking care of you, and helping you, and looking after you is… me loving you.” He pauses for a moment, letting their foreheads touch. “And I don’t ever get tired of loving you.”

Eddie’s whole body hurts.

He chokes Steve’s name weakly, his voice broken, almost squeaking, too high and small for it to even be understood, but Steve just kisses him even though he can’t kiss back, because tears are streaming down his cheeks, over Steve’s fingers.

A small sob escapes Eddie, and Steve pulls him into a hug, running his hands over his head as he buries his face in Steve’s belly. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, his hands pressing into the small of his back, against his warm skin. Steve’s hands are shaking as they run through his hair.

Eddie’s shoulders jerk as he cries, just once, and Steve’s hands smooth over them gently, sweetly, gathering his hair back.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve's voice says softly, and Eddie feels like he’s surfacing from under cold water, gasping for breath, like his lungs are breathing properly for the first time in his life.

“I love you too,” he chokes, lifting his head and looking up at him. His vision is blurry with tears. He can still see Steve’s smile. “I love you so much.”

Steve laughs softly, sniffling, leaning down to kiss him chastely.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe evenly, focusing on the feeling of Steve’s hands running over his cheeks, wiping his tears away. His head shakes slightly, but Steve doesn’t move his hands. He leans down to kiss his forehead.

“God,” Eddie exhales, holding his hips above the waistband of his jeans. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” Steve whispers. “You don’t have to apologize and you don’t have to thank me.”

He leans down and kisses his lips gently, murmuring a soft I love you, and Eddie reaches up, sliding his hands over Steve’s shoulders, over his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss him harder. After a moment he remembers that he’s sitting, and without pulling away, he stands, kicking his chair back noisily, one of his hands pushing into Steve’s hair as the other clutches at the small of his back. Steve’s legs wrap around his waist, and he tilts his head to kiss him deeper, holding Eddie’s face like he’ll fall apart if he lets go.

They’re both breathless and panting when they part. Steve’s fingers dance over the sides of Eddie’s neck, over his scars, making him shiver. (It’s a nice shiver.) They press their foreheads together, sharing breaths, eyes closed.

Steve pulls away after a moment, caressing Eddie’s cheeks.

“I’m not gonna get tired of you, Eddie,” he whispers. “You’re stuck with me, baby.”

Eddie laughs softly, sniffling and nuzzling his face into Steve’s cheek.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[hauntedjpegcollection]

rendezvous

wc: 6438 au: valorant au ch: xavier, benji

Xavier doesn’t like coffee, so he orders himself some overly sugared latte that’s more milk than anything else. It’s pale and frothy and the green haired girl at the counter smiles brightly at him, has to tilt her head back just a bit and there’s a rose color to her cheeks when she does. He sticks a five dollar bill into the jar next to the card reader that says FUNDS FOR NEW PLAYGROUND because apparently in the last attack, the one down the street had been demolished. This cafe had withstood, but the neighborhood wasn’t all that big. The sense of community was nice.

He hadn’t been here for that particular invasion, but he’d heard details. Mercenaries talked—a lot. It had been messy work and he’d known his extraction crew could have done better. Usually, anyway, but he wasn’t the one in charge. He isn’t even there for extraction today, isn’t even with his crew. All things considered, Xavier shouldn’t be here, not this quaint little coffee shop on the corner of a street, regular civilians buzzing about. A man reads a newspaper, a headline stamped across that says WHEN WILL THEY STOP?

He was being selfish. Maybe reckless—definitely reckless. Xavier wasn’t used to the former, all too used to the latter when it benefited Kingdom. He didn’t usually tug his leash, though.

Not like this.

“Seat taken?”

“Does it look taken?” Benji snorts. He doesn’t even look over his shoulder. Instead, he continues tapping a ball point pen rhythmically against a small, pocket sized sketchbook. The edges of it are battered, the page currently open filled with different small but well done drawings. The style is messy but pretty. Xavier skates his eyes away from the page—it feels invasive to be looking at it.

Invasive, he thinks, heh, laughing to himself.

That gets Benji’s attention. Maybe doesn’t like the idea of a stranger (is he a stranger?) standing behind him, laughing. He turns in his chair, looks up with a nasty expression that turns bewildered at the sight of Xavier. His lips part, jaw dropped. His eyes are pretty, widened like that.

“Sorry I’m late,” Xavier sighs dramatically as he slides himself into the empty chair across from Benji. He throws his long legs out on either side of the table, puts his cup down and drapes his arm around the back of the chair. “Traffic, you know?”

“What are you doing?” Benji leans forward with his hissing whisper. He’d picked a corner table at the cafe, no one around him. They’re next to a window overlooking the street, but it’s frosted glass so everything looks surreal and feels warped, far away and insignificant. It’s like that for Xavier, who isn’t from this world. Sometimes, even the air feels different. This was an upside down world, where he existed out there with his sisters but he wasn’t this. Mercenary. Man responsible for a leveled playground.

Sometimes he thought of breaking the glass of that other him.

Xavier takes a sip of the latte, finds it buttery smooth and warming. He raises eyebrows at Benji.

“What?”

“What d’you mean what? How did—why are you—” As Benji sputters over his sentences, Xavier leans in with elbows to the table. He takes up a lot of space. Benji leans back an inch or two. His hands are wrapped around his own coffee—something iced with no milk. There’s condensation still on it, which wets his fingertips in a way Xavier is acutely aware of. He has broad hands. Sparse hair peeks from underneath the length of his sweatshirt, at the tops of his wrist.

“I’m supposed to be doing recon—but right now?” Xavier smiles. He can feel how crazy it must look. Once, he’d probably had a nice smile. Now it’s all just teeth. The stretching of skin across his face. “We’re just two guys getting coffee, right?” Then he leans back once more. His fingers tap on the wooden table. There are rings of coffee stains, nicks here and there along the edges. It feels worn in, used in the best sort of way. This shop is a staple in the neighborhood. Xavier hopes it never becomes a casualty. Benji is a regular to this exact table. Xavier’s watched him sit here three times now—this fourth being the only time someone has sat down with him.

“You look good in civvies, by the way.”

Benji glances down at himself. It’s not a lie—his leather jacket is worn with age at the elbows, at the seams and shoulders. It’s lost luster, is faded and well loved (he’s worn it every day Xavier has watched him). It fits him, it suits him, it looks like something that he’d pull off a hanger everyday to wear. Benji must get cold easily, because the hood of a sweatshirt pokes out, the sleeves longer than the leather. Something about the style makes him look younger, somewhat boyish. It’s all black, even his jeans which have split at the knees, little strings of fabric clinging together against dark brown skin.

Xavier’s fingers twitch when blush spreads over Benji’s defined nose and cheekbones.

“You followin’ me?” he finally asks, quiet with his brows knit together in a menacing sort of look. Not angry—wary.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Out your fuckin’ mind then, mate?”

“Yeah, a little,” Xavier repeats, tilting his head back and forth, scanning the cafe once more. He cannot help himself from being slightly alert. He is an intruder after all. If Benji called for reinforcements… “I’ve only watched you, like, three times. Which I don’t think qualifies as stalking yet.”

He groans as he stretches arms above his head, trying to relax. He’s tired from being awake all night in a room with a sniper rifle trained on a building he already knew was too secure to get into, tired because of the shift from his world to this one (it always sort of felt like his bones were being compressed and stretched and shoved back into his skin, it never felt right). He catches Benji’s eye roaming and selfishly enjoys the attention. Stretches further, languid and pleasant, arms out above his head, sweater pulling up on his stomach. An painful burst of heat makes his stomach hurt when Benji’s eyes flit down and then immediately away. He scowls. The expression isn’t unattractive.

“Tryin’ to collect a thank you, then? You were actin’ mad fixing me up twice now. Don’t owe you for that.” Benji takes a sip from his iced coffee, licks his lips as his expression continues to sour into something delightfully pouty. Xavier’s memories of this face are tarnished somewhat. Sweat and blood and dirt and gunpowder. He doesn’t regret this, no matter how idiotic it was, how dangerous it was.

“How’s your hip then?”

“Had worse.”

“You’ll have to show me the scar someday,” Xavier flirts shamelessly. It makes Benji’s glare harder, narrows his sleepy eyes. Wary still, full of distrust but—tension doesn’t return to his shoulders. They stay pleasantly rounded, a bit mopey in his posture as he sits there. The ball point pen has nearly rolled off the edge of the table, but he makes no moves to get it. Xavier lightly taps the edge of his boot into Benji’s chair.

“This is kind of nice, huh?”

“Had worse,” Benji slowly repeats, the corners of his lips twitching into something almost like a smile. Xavier feels an intense burst of pride, sunny inside his ribcage.

It’s obvious why he keeps trying, isn’t it? Benji is good looking. Very good looking. He’s combat medic strong, thickly built with defined arms and legs. He has nice hands, a handsome nose and heavy brows, a stare that makes Xavier’s insides feel weak. His face had been burned into Xavier’s memory, had lived inside his thoughts ever since that first day. And then the second, finding him bloody once more. Sometimes, when his mind was otherwise going someplace dark, he’d let himself sink into those memories instead. Even if they were blood and dirt and gunpowder tinged, an empty gun smacking his shoulders, a moody medic snarling at him.

There can’t be any other reason he tries than sexual attraction. It scares him otherwise.

“This is also nice,” Xavier says, tapping the edge of Benji’s coffee. “Now I know what kind of coffee you like.” He takes a sip of his own, as if punctuating the sentence. Now I know something about you. Benji stares at him, eyes on the cup as it lowers to the table. He clears his throat and adjusts himself in the wooden seat. The ambient sound of others around them, drinking and talking and the workers making coffee make them feel pressed closer together. Finally, Benji lifts a hand and gestures.

“How do y’take yours then, yeah?”

“It’s a latte.” Xavier uses two fingers to slowly push it into the circle Benji has clearly outlined around himself. “Wanna taste?”

“No,” Benji scoffs with a curl of his lip.

“It’s really good.”

“Puttin’ milk in coffee is a crime, mate.”

“It’s sugar cookie flavored. C’mon. You know you wanna taste sugar cookie flavored coffee, man. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, really. It’s off the menu next week—”

“You’re not goin’ t’shut up, are you?” Benji is halfway to another grin when he reaches for the cup. “They pay you by the word over on your side?” Xavier’s eyes are narrowed to the single act of Benji lifting the cup. It pauses at the edge of his lips, and for the first time since he’s started this game (and maybe for the first time in a long, long time even outside this), Xavier feels sort of hot around the ears and cheekbones. He’s not usually one for that—he is good at flirting. Or, he’s disastrous at it, but he never has to put that much effort into it. His eyes flick up to meet Benji’s as he takes a small sip.

“You’re not a quiet guy yourself.” He reaches over to take the cup back and almost wishes they’d have one of those adorable movie moments. A brush of fingertips, an electric spark. But that moment never happens and instead, Xavier is slumping back in his chair, staring at the lip of his cup. “You were going to talk yourself to death, last time.”

“Tactic. Waitin’ on reinforcements. Had you real cornered, Xavier.”

He fakes a shiver to play scared, but there is a very real part of him that does feel shaken, because Jesus Christ he loves the way Benji’s just said his name. The first time he’s heard it, since they’ve exchanged them. He realizes that they’re both smiling at each other and it makes that shiver deepen. Too much time has passed. He wonders if they could ever invent technology that pauses the world—they’ve already invented something that lets you hop them. Why not something that gives you a little more time? What he wouldn’t do for a little more time.

Xavier fishes into his pocket and then fully hunches over the table again. This time, Benji doesn’t retreat as far, or as quickly.

“You think I’m insane don’t you?”

“Bit out of it, might say.”

He slides a folded piece of paper forward until it slowly disappears beneath the sketchbook. Benji can decide whether or not to look at it or throw it away (or give the information up to someone who will use it to kill him), but Xavier feels safer with it tucked out of sight. His heart beat has suddenly found it’s way into his throat and a certain sort of dizziness makes his ears ring. Xavier had not known for sure if he was going to do that, when he first sat down. He’d half thought all that would come from this was a small respite. Worst case scenario, maybe he’d be dead. But the piece of paper if out of his pocket now. It’s underneath Benji’s sketchbook.

It’s in enemy hands.

“Three short whistles, I’ll know it’s you.” Xavier moves quickly then. He stands from the chair, hands shoved into his jacket pockets so they don’t betray him. They shake with anticipation. Excitement.

He smiles down at Benji, who looks, miraculously and hilariously, lost for words.

—

Xavier hates the sort of music that Crowley puts on. It’s this velvety soft jazz music that feels uninspired and meant more for an elevator ride than background music to sex. He suspects that she puts it on half because she likes it and half because she knows he doesn’t. Crowley is like that; he is not twenty-four anymore, deluded into thinking he was special to her, or that she even likes him. But even fully aware, he still finds himself next to her, on her couch with a manila folder in his hands.

Sweat is still cooling on both of them. The music is grating his nerves, but she’d made dinner. Some sort of pasta meal that had tasted a little too fancy for him. He’s sated, in a way.

Xavier bites his finger as he reads, a strange habit he’d picked up as a kid and never let go. It’s not gnawing with an intent, he’s merely resting his teeth against a knuckle bone as he scans the pages of information Crowley has given him. Xavier eats it, consumes everything there is, like a hungry dog on the side of the road pawing roadkill. Because Crowley doesn’t like him and maybe he doesn’t even like her, but there is a mutual benefit to this gross relationship they’ve built over the last four years.

Crowley likes sex and she likes feeling in control. Xavier likes sex and he likes information. If he can have any say in what happens in Kingdom, even this little bit, then he feels important. No small part of him weeps at the idea of being important, being needed, or necessary. He feels like he can keep Lark safe. Ben safe. He can influence Crowley to move pawns in different directions.

He wasn’t smart. But he was logical.

“Go with this one,” he says, tugging a paper out and putting it atop the others. “You’d risk your radiants with the other maneuver. It’s stupid—Stiles lost her lieutenant in the last invasion. She’s not thinking clearly and won’t make the best decisions.”

Crowley’s fingers move into his sweaty, messy hair. Nails drag down his skull, his flesh pebbling to goosebumps, shoulders shivering as her hand draws down to the nape of his neck. Her perfume is dark and overbearing. She taps a finger a few times as if contemplating. Her salt and pepper hair falls across her face, skimming his skin as she looks at the paper. He’d not bothered to put his shirt back on, even though her penthouse is kept impossibly chilly.

“It’s a shame Lark is still recovering, or I could put your team on point, couldn’t I?”

No, he wants to snap at her. Sometimes he wants to bite her just to get her to shut up. He thinks she’d like it too much.

“He only got hurt because you didn’t listen to me last time.” His tone is clipped, voice level but that hint of anger bubbles at the surface. He tries to remain calm in her presence, because his anger had never scared her. And that scared him somewhat. Anger had always been his best defense. It made people leave him alone. He was big and strong and when he was scary, people backed off.

Crowley leans in, plucking the folder from his hands and tossing it onto the glass coffee table in front of them. Empty beer bottles and her glass of wine, thrice refilled, sit there as well. He feels her shifting to get into his lap and so he leans back to accommodate her. Because, well, there wasn’t really anything else Xavier was going to do. And his hands find her soft waist just as her mouth seals over his.

—

“You promised.”

“I said I was sorry—”

“Stop saying sorry, it doesn’t fix anything!”

Xavier has to pull his cell phone from his ear, because Tess screams so loud that it crackles. The city sounds around him are just as loud, just as cruel to his already aching head. The beer had not gotten him drunk, had only given him a migraine that was needling behind one of his eyes. Xavier didn’t suffer headaches that often, didn’t know what to do when his entire skull felt close to exploding with the pressure. He digs a heel into his eye as he walks the lonesome sidewalk. A newspaper flutters by, caught by the breeze. WHEN WILL THEY STOP? He swallows and clears his throat. Attempts diplomacy with his sister.

“How mad is she, then?”

“She’s not mad,” Tess seethes. “She’s—she was expecting you to be there. That’s all, okay. She was—Xavier it’s a big deal. Okay? PhD? She’s going to be—what is that, like a doctor?”

“Can you be a doctor for writing?”

He relaxes when he hears her laugh, even though it’s strained at the edges. Xavier presses on down the sidewalk, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s cold out, but just barely. The wind nips at him here and there, but it feels nice. A reminder that he’s flesh and blood and real and alive. He passes by shops that are both closed and open, some of them dark and some of them lit up, calling to him to stop and rest and drink more or eat or do anything that wasn’t argue with his sister.

“I’ll call Emily,” Xavier finally says. “You know last time I tried to send her a gift card she yelled at me for like an hour.”

“It was an Amazon gift card.”

“The hell is wrong with Amazon?”

Xavier knows he’s going the wrong way toward home, but that doesn’t make much difference to him. He lets himself be guided, his eyes tired as they glance up at a smoggy, starless sky.

“Her boyfriend was there, by the way.”

“She has a boyfriend?” His voice goes deep and angry, reverberating from his chest. For a brief moment, when he thinks of Emily, he can only see her as the shy and awkward thirteen year old she’d been before he’d joined the military. Standing there with big, pleading eyes. You’re joining a fascist regime, she’d said and he had no idea how a thirteen year old even knew the words fascist or regime. All he’d known at thirteen was video games and comic books. But Emily had always been the smartest Wolffe. He’d envied her for that.

Only she’d turned twenty five earlier that year and he was still envious of her in a lot of different ways.

“Tanner. Which—I already know you’re going to say—”

“That’s a douchebag name.”

“He was very polite. Dad approves.” Tess says it lightly, but Xavier reads the tone. Dad approves. Dad approves because Emily is going to college and she’s going to be someone and she’s going down the right paths but most of all, Emily isn’t gay. He doesn’t detect envy or pain in Tess’ voice, but he knows if she were there, if they were in his shitty slum apartment, if they were sharing a joint together on his broken down couch, they’d both have the same expression. Defeat.

When he reaches Lark’s apartment building, he punches the code in so angrily, he thinks one of the buttons stick.

“I’ll call her.”

“And me. More often, thanks.”

It makes him smile as he passes through the lobby, the bank of mailboxes, into a dingy elevator that looks like it’ll break any day. It’d not even been functional when Lark had moved in, but he’d had such a shine of excitement on his sweaty face as they carried boxes of things up for him that Xavier couldn’t bring himself to disparage the place.

“I will,” Xavier says in a softer voice, shoulder to the wall of the elevator. It crawls higher and higher. “I love you, Tess.”

“Love you, Xavier.”

—

He tried not to make a habit out of showing up randomly. It had gone bad, once before when Xavier had opened the door to Lark’s bedroom and a woman had been asleep next to him. Even if it was a story that had made Benny laugh so hard he’d nearly pissed himself in his snipers perch, Lark hadn’t spoken to him directly for an entire week after. That had been the longest stretch of time they’d not talked since Xavier had picked him up from Kingdom headquarters two years ago.

Now, though, Xavier knows Lark will be alone.

When he sneaks into the mans bedroom and finds him laying on his back with an arm across his face, the bed is empty beside him. There’s a cast on his other arm, something slim and medical, high tech that was promoting faster healing than anything that was capable before that valuable mineral they were desperately fighting for. It sits on his stomach, which rises slowly and heavily with sleep. Xavier tries not to judge the absolute mess of Lark’s bedroom. Clothes strewn everywhere, plastic water bottles lining the dresser. He toes off his combat boots and attempts a silent approach as he crosses to the bed.

“You creep,” Lark says sleepily. His arm doesn’t move off his face. Xavier has never been able to sneak up on him before; he isn’t sure if Lark is a light sleeper by nature, or if prison had done that to him.

“Hows your arm?”

“Broken,” he replies dully, lifting the cast. Then he lets it fall back to his stomach. Xavier strips himself of his jeans and then lifts the blankets at the edge of Lark’s bed to crawl under. Despite the mess he seems to keep, his bedspread and blanket always smell of fresh laundry. Xavier settles into the bed and sighs, hands tucked underneath his head. His eyes have settled to the dark, and a cut of the outside night city light crisscrosses the ceiling. It’ll be morning in just a few hours.

“Emily has a boyfriend.”

“Okay.”

“Named Tanner.”

“She has awful taste.”

“Well, she liked you, so yeah.”

Xavier whuffs a sound when an elbow lands on his stomach. But both men snicker at least a little bit. Xavier falls asleep better, listening to Lark’s even, safe breathing directly next to him.

—

Three distinct, short whistles pull him to a complete stop at the entrance into a crumbling office building. The floor has split somewhere to his left, pipes burst and draining down into the floor below. Lights flicker a above him. Xavier slowly creeps his way into the next room. There’s a pause and then—three whistles—and—

“Fuckin’ hell, gives a note and doesn’t show—dickhead that one, should—”

“Should what?”

Benji’s rifle snaps up automatically. A red dot appears on Xavier’s chest and then immediately it skitters away and across the wall and then to the floor. Then disappears entirely when Benji thumbs it off.

Amongst all the rubble of what was once some random building, Benji looks stark and real. His uniform is gray, washed out amongst the beige and the crumbling plaster walls and yet, he is so there. His dark skin peeks at his throat, at the edges of his wrist. Benji lifts to yank his helmet off and his hair goes everywhere. Little sprouting curls that are frizzy from sweat. His gloved hand pushes strands back. His eyes are still as tired as they have looked the past three times, but they are shiny. Bright and excited and—just for Xavier. They’re staring at each other for a long moment before the mercenary takes another step into the room.

Something feels crackly and intense inside of him. Outside of him. In the air. Between them.

“Jesus,” Xavier says and laughs loudly. “Holy shit. You showed up.”

“Yeah,” Benji replies in a hoarse whisper. “Well. Yeah.”

He isn’t really sure which of them makes the first move then—even when he replays the events later for himself, in bed. On his side, an hand tucked protectively around an old wounded rib, staring at the wall and trying to memorize every small detail. That one escapes him, who had moved forward first. Maybe it was both of them, maybe the toes of their combat boots had met awkwardly and they’d nearly stumbled because of that closeness. A gap bridged in just an instant—but he will not ever forget the way Benji’s hands had slid around the plate armor he wore and held him steady in front of him.

“Yeah, well, m’here.” He mumbles it, his dark eyes up on Xavier. He has to tilt his head back just for that alone. His chin is almost touching the black vest. “You wanted that, right?”

Little bursts of energy explode inside Xavier’s fingertips, making him feel shaky all the way to his bones. He hasn’t moved at all, except that step forward. Benji’s eyes darken. They lid even further, no longer just sleepy. This close, Xavier can see a defining scar down the inner corner—he feels instantly possessive of that light brown cut, feels insane for wanting to know every single detail about it. Who did it? Are they still alive? If they are, they wont be for long.

Xavier has no idea whats happening, Benji’s fingers sliding further into his vest and pulling them a notch closer. Was this the same man who threw a gun at him? Who leaned back at the coffee shop? Who blushed when he was complimented? Xavier’s mouth dries and his throat narrows, his breathing coming out short and staccato. His eyes blink rapidly in some sort of attempt to clear.

Arousal swells in his lower stomach, pools heat down his thighs, between his hips.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Xavier says, through numb lips and a thick tongue. He has no idea why, of all things, that comes out first. It seems to unbalance Benji for a minute, but only a minute before that dark, heady look returns to his eyes. And it becomes obvious what Benji thought this rendezvous was for.

And was he wrong?

Xavier had been thinking about it. He’d been thinking near nonstop about it. He had been imagining Benji, imagining shoving the sleeves of his shirt up and kissing the inside of his forearm and kissing more places than just that. He’d imagined bending Benji over something, revealing back muscles and brown skin. He’d been thinking about Benji so much it felt like other things were being pushed out. Replaced. He closed his eyes and went to sleep, wondering when he’d hear three short whistles.

But now that he’s there, standing there, looking down at him, all Xavier can think is, I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried. Every time I’ve seen you, there’s some new injury and I’m not good at taking care of those. I’m better at shooting a gun. There’s a reason they gave me sledgehammer. I’m glad you’re okay. Jesus, I’m so glad you’re okay.

Benji’s hand moves and touches the buckle to his bulletproof vest. The click is so loud it feels like gunshots.

“Wait,” Xavier’s hand wraps around Benji’s wrist.

The rejection in those pretty, dark eyes is so immediate and so painful that Xavier has to suck in a breath because it feels similar to the crack of a rib. The wrist he holds onto is wrenched away and the space put between them feels impossibly cavernous. Benji’s face twists into blistering humiliated anger. Xavier’s stomach goes cold and hollow, the tingling in his hands getting worse, more like buzzing anxiety. He lifts them, palms up and fingers spread.

“Wait—”

“What the fuck do you want?” He tries to reach out once more and Benji swipes his arm away and out of reach. He is stumbling backward, toward the way he came. No, don’t go. “What the fuck are you—Why did you tell me to come here, then? Are you fuckin’ with me, mate? Is this some game?”

“No, I swear, I—”

“Mental fuck, I swear, if you’re tryin’ somethin’ with me—”

“I’m not,” Xavier hisses, reaching out again and snatching Benji by the bicep. His fingers curl harder than he means. He’s well aware that Benji is more within reach of his rifle than he is. That he could easily put distance between them and Xavier would be nothing but a mist of blood across the beige walls. He swallows and his breathing is short pants, his hand holding even harder as he tries not to lose this moment.

“Then what?” Benji snarls. He’s not putting up a fight to get away. That hurt in his eyes had felt worse than a knife to the gut—it hadn’t said, but I wanted to have sex and you’re taking that from me, it had said, I thought you this and now you’re making a mockery of me and Xavier hated himself for letting Benji think that. Even for a second. “I’ll break your teeth, mate, I will—”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Green,” Benji replies so quickly, spitting it so furiously, that it stuns both of them to silence. The only real sound is some continued gunfight far, far in the distance from this building. Slowly, as Benji’s cheeks start to darken, Xavier’s dimple with a giant smile. He can feel it, crinkling his eyes. His hand loosens. Benji jerks out of his grasp. He doesn’t step away.

“Don’t let that go to your head. Liked it ‘fore I ever met you.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You have that look on your face,” Benji gestures with a gloved hand. Xavier tries to make his smile smaller, or at the very least, tries for something more humble. He doesn’t think it works. Benji continues to stare at him, his jaw working. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to get to know you,” Xavier admits. “I just—I wanted to hear your voice again. And talk to you.”

“Why?” He tries not to let the suspicion in Benji’s voice hurt, but a small part of him does feel lost on that sound. He palms the back of his neck. His hair sticks to his temples, helmet flat. Xavier runs a hand back through it, feeling as it sticks up everywhere with the path of his palm. Benji stares. When he goes to say something—he isn’t sure what, because he’s not sure he could explain—Benji cuts him off.

“What’s yours then?” he asks. “Red? Black? Somethin’ scary?”

“You think I’m scary?” Xavier asks, like its a compliment, putting a hand to his chest. Benji doesn’t answer. He makes a move as if to turn and Xavier reaches out, long fingers looping around Benji’s forearm. He half expects to be shaken off. He isn’t. “I like yellow.” He thinks of Lark’s brightly bleached hair, underneath the sun. The golden lab he’d had as a kid, wiggling against him and licking his face as he howled laughing, when life still felt pure and simple and small. It was a good color. It felt like home.

“My turn, then?” Benji asks. Xavier feels worry prick along his skin. Until, “Right. What kind of music you listen to?”

“Oh man,” Xavier laughs. He slowly backs up, still holding Benji’s forearm, pulling him along. “You’re not going to like my taste in music.” His back hits the wall and he slowly slides until he’s sitting, a nod to the side to indicate Benji should do the same. He’s unsure how much time they have in the same way he is exactly aware of how little time they have. Benji hesitates, but only for a second before he turns and lets his back hit the wall. He slides until he’s sitting. His knees bent, one arm around the leg, the other resting next to him. Like a silent approval for Xavier to still be holding onto him.

—

“No, fuck no,” Xavier laughs. Benji stands in front of him, a hand outstretched to help haul him up.

“You’re having a laugh at me, right? There’s no way you’re scared of horror movies. You’re—you.”

He feels weightless as a strong arm yanks him. Xavier stumbles just a bit, pats at his ass to get plaster dust off his tac pants. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Man, just because I’m a mercenary doesn’t mean I can handle Pennywise the Clown. I had nightmares for weeks. I called my sister like, nightly.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older.”

Benji’s brow quirks, his smile softening. It looks nice that way. Xavier wasn’t going to pretend that Benji’s dark, mean and sometimes snide little smile wasn’t nice (or that it didn’t shake something inside him like a dog with a bone). He liked that flutter of gentleness though, the smallest hint of a softer side.

Though Benji doesn’t say it out loud, he has a feeling there’s an older sister in his life as well. Something shared between them. They had shared probably too much together, on the floor, listening to some rumbling and fighting that they should have been engaged in. Xavier worries for Benji, that his absence might be noticed, but the medic assures him there’s plenty of them. He’d called himself canon fodder and had only stopped laughing at that when he’d met Xavier’s stormy, furious expression.

“Should go now,” Benji comments, looking out the wide blasted hole in the wall. The sky is turning shades of purple and pink. The fighting will be nearly over. His job will only just be starting. When he turns back, he seems startled to find Xavier close once more. There’s only really a few inches between them. Steel toed boots scuffing once more. The crackling underneath Xavier’s skin has returned. An urge to touch so strong it feels overwhelming.

“I wanted to do more than talk,” Xavier admits, quietly. Benji’s expression becomes unreadable and that worries him, so he lifts his hand and closes it around the same bicep he’d held far too tight earlier. He worries that he might have left a bruise. He almost hopes that he has, as selfish and disturbing as that is. The physical proof of him lingering on Benji’s skin—something inside stirs at that, but he stomps it down.

“Xavier,” Benji begins. His accent makes it sound like his name ends with an ‘a’. It’s so impossibly fucking endearing.

“I mean,” he laughs. His hand slides from bicep to the back of Benji’s shoulder. “I really, really wanted to give you a hug. Sometimes, when I look at you—Jesus, all I can think about doing is hugging you. You ever meet someone who just like needs a hug?”

Then he does, wrapping an arm around Benji’s shoulders. The other goes around his lower back. Xavier pulls them nice and snug together and for a brief second images all the gear gone. He doesn’t even necessarily imagine it sexually, but the idea of intimacy is almost sexual in the way he desires it so strong.

Benji feels like he might pull away. Until he doesn’t. Until his entire body goes slack and two hands touch Xavier’s lower back. Then they’re hugging, this awkward but lingering and affectionate embrace between two enemies. Xavier pulls them tighter still, his arms briefly shaking with how hard he grips them together. He doesn’t mean to but his nose slips into Benji’s hair. He tells himself it’s just because he’s so tall compared to the medic. But it isn’t true, especially as that nose slips down the side of Benji’s face.

As it continues into the crook of Benji’s shoulder. He feels the slide of sweaty skin across his cheek. Xavier sighs contently and then inhales roughly. The hands at his lower back dig in tighter. He sighs out contently, rubbing his face harder against where shoulder meets neck.

“God, you smell amazing,” Xavier groans happily. He squeezes their bodies together once more. He tries to memorize the way Benji smells underneath smoke and war and gear. He’s too tempted to put his tongue there and feel the pulse underneath his warm skin. He’d meant it. Benji needed a hug, he just needed to feel arms around him. Xavier knew it.

Because Xavier needed it too.

An explosion goes off, far too close to them.

They shoot apart. Benji’s hands scramble across himself for his rifle, until he swears and darts for it, as it rests propped up against the wall. Xavier doesn’t reach for his own, but he sighs heavily, head rolling back on his neck. He swears he can still smell Benji, he can still feel the warmth of his body.

“That was one of mine,” Xavier explains, almost sheepishly. He reaches up for the radio on his chest and briefly switches it on.

“Motherfucker—yeah, f-fuck you! Hah! Fuck all of you cocksuckers—”

He switches it off.

“Snipers,” Xavier says, with a shrug, as if to explain.

“I’ve heard that one,” Benji says. “He scares our ground troops.”

“Ben?” he laughs as he crosses to the blown out wall. It looks out over a rubbled street. Xavier glances around outside of it. He pats around his pack on his side for the rappel. “He’s all bark, no bite. Swear. You’d like him, actually. He’s funny.”

“Xavier.” Benji’s voice stops him as he unhooks the rappel, the length of rope just enough probably to get him down to the ground. He glances up to the medic, who still stands there in the middle of the ruined office building, where they’d just talked for probably half an hour about absolutely nothing. “Are—”

He stops himself from asking the question. Xavier can guess what it is, but he doesn’t say anything as he hooks the rappel onto the ground, as secure as he can get it. He fights the urge to glance up, to take in Benji’s oddly vulnerable expression. Are. Are.

Are you going to want to see me again?

“Well, be fuckin’ careful, alright? We’re on the third story.” Benji’s voice is gruff and close. Xavier looks up as he positions himself to rappel down. He stands there, right at the edge and Xavier has to resist the urge to shove him back in, toward safety. Open area always meant danger. Instead, they both just look at each other, Benji staring down, and Xavier staring up.

“Soon you soon,” Xavier says and winks before he launches himself out the building.

[streamdotpng]

this is chaotic sorry in advanced.

Twin anon here! I made notes while reading on my catch-up venture

Oh my god the idea that a bunch of people have to sign a contract saying wednesday can attack them if she feels threatened is so funny. Like- something had to have happened to lead to this, right? Her team realized it was the best option so Wednesday doesn’t get jailed or bad publicity but her fans just go feral anyway anytime Wednesday puts a knife to someone’s throat

Monster fucker Wednesday confirmed !!! I mean hey was it ever really doubted…

Reached monster fucker anon and that made me laugh. From a pr perspective I honestly think with what Wednesday writes her being a monster fucker would be good. I mean- that’s who she writes for, if you really think about it. Her audience is full of monsterfuckers from the normie x monster shit she writes. Sure, she has horror and what not but the base of it is still that. The question isn’t whether she’s a monster fucker it is what monster she wants to fuck her !!!

Oh my god! I got to the stalker lore stuff and I love it!!! I’m very happy to read more of it and now I have such a better understanding. I knew enid went feral but damn !!! There is no getting in the way of Wednesday and Enid. It makes me happy though that they were able to get past all of this trauma to end up in a much better place where they both can physically be together and love each other. It really speaks to how strong their relationship is like there is absolutely nothing that could ever break the two of them apart.

I have to wonder if anyone at nevermore or hell even in Jericho remember Wednesday (she’s hard to forget) and see her as this celebrity figure. Do they talk about it? Do they bring it up? Do they try to say what happened at nevermore? Are the whispers just brushed away as an old classmate wanting to hate on them? Just rumors bubbled up to ruin Wednesdays image? Or, really, would it not even be blinked at because this is Wednesday Addams after all? (some nevermore students and people of Jericho definitely have a “Wednesday Addams traumatized me” therapy group) OH or does everyone think all the old Jericho people are crazy because wednesday turned her school years into books (unknown to the public) so it just looks like they are taking what she’s written wayyy to seriously

Oh my god the short of enid in jail was heartbreaking. It cements even more how much they deserve. Like- Enid in her life has reached a state where she is so overly loved. She can play video games, laugh, smile, be jump scared and run into the arms of her *wife* at the end of it all. You did a fantastic job writing it!!!

I caught up! Only took me three hours :D

Shout out to writer anon! They’re amazing. I don’t know who you are but all the little shorts were beautiful and really well written. It’s so nice that so many people come together for fics/fandom things.

Back on my twin Enid agenda. I think my twin enid ways is just shit posting at this point. It’ll be so clear there is only one Enid and here I am in my corner tangled around in red string doubling down as if Wednesday Addams herself did not just finally announce that yes, she is married to the one and only endespair. When the Clark Kentification goes to hard smh. Doubling down by saying, you know what, actually, there is a twin and it’s just a messy triangle- No a square, because Wednesday now also has a twin. Case closed. Twin anon staying strong.

Anyway! Away from that stupidity lmao!!! Streamer enid au stays being one of my favorites! Your ideas are always so fantastic and I love thinking about these two so much. I hope you’ve been doing well!

OMYGOD TWIN ANON ITS BEEN SO LONG I MISSED YOU

i deadass thought i ran you off with how i spiralled the twin spin off into its whole thing

also no worries :) nothing wrong with some chaotic rambling so lemme read whatchu got for me

but yeah, there was definitely a scene during wednesday's early years where a fan got too overzealous and a contract had to be made bc she nearly stabbed someone

now its just normal to have these contracts if you ever want wednesday addams in your event

also clearly the monster she wants to fuck her is enid a werewolf, like cmon. Its not even a joke, the amount of wolf imagery is rampant in all her works

glad people like the stalker lore, it wont come up alot bc adult wenclair has moved past it but i wanted to use it to explain why enid is so easily strict on her boundaries esp with chat

as for if jericho and nevermore remembering wednesday? yeah no they definitely know her, with the amount of shit wenclair get up too its hard to forget the werewolf and its master staining their monuments red

they do crow abt it at times but they're so secluded its not really that noticeable. There are the occasional post from a disgruntled adult of long before but that's about it. Definitely looks like an in universe viper roleplayer though!

glad you like my short on jail enid, she's a little crazy but who wouldn't if you gone through what she did in that cell? luckily she got way better, so everything is much tolerable now :)

(also damn, you went through all that content in 3 hours?? i didn't think there was that much. Thank you so much for spending time to do so bc holyshit)

ALSO YEAHHH SHOUT OUT DEFINITELY TO WRITER ANON!! AND JD AND EVERYONE WHO HELPED ME BUILD THE AU

it was really fun :^D

ah yes, wednesday addams and her twin Viper addams. She totally has a sister who's the actor and her the author

thank you again for liking the streamer enid au so much, it was genuinely so fun building it and ot think it took like two-three months to fully build it is mindboggling!!

i'll be doing better nowadays mate, hope you have a good day aswell

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

hihi!! I hope you're having a good day and feel better soon : ) I know you're in college right now and I'm starting soon (this fall!!!) and I was wondering if you had any advice for finding roommates? Im pretty sure im also some flavor of neuro divergent and I'm kind of worried about finding a roommate for my freshman year and becoming friends with them.... what did you do when you were trying to find someone? did the transition feel okay? I really hope I find someone who likes me and im really worried that ill be too awkward when first meeting people

Hi, anon! (And thanks for asking about my feeling better—I am indeed recovering from my cold, slowly but surely!)

How exciting that you’re entering college this fall—congratulations to you, the Class of ‘28! You’re right that I’m currently in college—I’m a senior (and currently in Grad School Application Hell)—and it’s really nice revisiting all the excited feelings I had as I was entering college for the first time, too, and I’m so excited FOR you! It’s not an easy transition, and I understand if you’re nervous, but in the best of circumstances, it can be SO much fun—the new environment, the newfound freedom, the new friends, the endless possibilities of this new chapter in your life! (Do I sound like a cliché and/or some overly-enthusiastic person from an admissions office taking you on a college tour right now? Maybe. Sorry about that.)

I’ll start with the caveat that I’m by no means an expert on this, just speaking from my personal experience (in which I’ve been lucky to have two absolutely lovely roommates!), largely drawn from how my college functions and what worked well for me. I’ve done my best to make this explanation more general and inclusive of how other schools might work, though. (And if you or anyone reading this has any more specific questions, feel free to shoot me another ask or a DM!)

So, given my lack of qualification…I’ve put on my Advice Columnist Hat and basically written a LOOOOOONG-winded treatise on how to find roommates for your first year of college, especially if you’re some flavor of neurodivergent! That will be under the cut, so let’s go!

How To Find Roommates For Your First Year Of College, Especially If You’re Some Flavor Of Neurodivergent

An Unnecessarily Long-Winded Treatise By bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue

Part 1: Picking Prospective Roommates Based on Questionnaires & Compatibility

The way my school does roommate selection for incoming first-years is that you can choose either to “go random” (be assigned a totally random roommate, who I think will always be someone else who’s also chosen to go random), or you can fill out a questionnaire and be matched with people who’ve answered it similarly. If, for some reason, your school just assigns random roommates to everyone and you don’t have any choice in whom your roommate will be, then you can skip this whole part and scroll down to Part 2. (Sorry!)

The aforementioned roommate form/questionnaire has questions about how you prefer to live/what you’d like your housing situation to be like. Whether they’re part of an official form from your school or not, they’re all important things to consider when you’re deciding who would make the best match for you as a roommate, especially when you’re neurodivergent and have specific routines, sensory needs, socialization-related needs, etc. (but also just for everyone, because it makes accommodating the other person and their schedules/patterns so much easier if they’re already the same as your own schedules/patterns!) These will be things like:

Have you ever consistently lived in the same room with someone before (a sibling, a roommate at boarding/prep school or sleepaway camp, etc.)?

What time do you like to go to sleep/wake up?

Do you keep your room neat and tidy, cluttered but clean, or messy?

How often do you plan to be in the room? (As opposed to: in class, in extracurriculars, in OTHER people’s rooms, going out/partying, working at a job, etc. Some people hardly ever leave their rooms, and some treat their room more like a waystation.)

How often do you plan to have people over in the room?

Do you use substances (do drugs, drink alcohol, smoke, etc.), and how would you feel about a roommate who used substances?

How do you feel about roommates using your stuff? (what’s mine is yours / ask first / please don’t touch)

Do you need darkness to sleep, or are you okay with some lights being on?

Do you need quiet to sleep, or are you okay with some noise?

Do you want you and your roommate to be acquaintances, friends, or close friends?

The questionnaire for my college, as I recall, also asks some general questions about your personality, hobbies, planned majors, extracurriculars, etc.

If your college’s housing form has a questionnaire like this, hell yeah! Go ahead and fill it out, if you haven’t already! After you’ve done so, the program will match you with people who have answered similarly, in an attempt to create nice, concordant living situations. My college’s program provided a list of a bunch of possible prospects, with their compatibility percentage (91% compatible, 86% compatible, etc.), and showed their provided description and their answers to the questionnaires, so you could see where you agreed and disagreed. Kinda like this character personality quiz, but with, y’know, real people. If your college DOESN’T have a questionnaire like this (I think most do, but I’ll freely admit I’m not very up on how colleges that aren’t mine work…), you can use a roommate-finder website like Roomsurf or Diggz, or an app like Roomie. (Yeah, the names are kinda stupid…) Finally, some social-media profiles for schools’ incoming classes (like a Class of ‘28 Discord server or Instagram page) let you write up a little profile on your own, with your answers to these questions. When they post it, people can look at it determine their compatibility with you on their own, then comment/DM you expressing their interest in being your roommate.

Whatever method you choose, I’d suggest that if you’re neurodivergent, you do some sort of questionnaire like this—or at the very least find some way of expressing your preferences—instead of going random, if that’s at all possible. It reduces a lot of stress if you have at least SOME idea, going in, of what it will be like to live with your roommate, and it goes the other way around, too—you’re letting your roommate know what it will be like to live with you. And although a perfect, 100% match is next to impossible, it’s really nice to get a roommate who has similar habits to yours and is able to tolerate yours—if you go to bed and wake up at around the same time, if you both need quiet at a certain time, if neither of you wants people over in your room often, etc. I’d argue that this is almost more important than friendship based on things like shared interests (majors, fandoms, etc.). In fact, I’ve known people who are the best of friends, but who’d make terrible roommates! On the other hand, I’ve known people who were perfectly cordial, respectful roommates who got along well and liked each other fine, but barely hung out in other contexts. To sun up, living compatibility is important, and I’d argue that neurodivergence makes it even more important—when things like this are less “wants” than “needs”.

Speaking of which: in your answers to these questionnaires or in your profile, you might or might not want to disclose that you’re neurodivergent, or that you suspect you are. That’s totally your choice, and you don’t have to disclose anything you’re not comfortable with. If you specifically want a neurodivergent roommate, then it might be a good thing to disclose that you are or might be neurodivergent too. (Although, as the saying goes, if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person. And that’s just one specific category of neurodivergence! Someone else might have totally different sensory needs and routines than you do—or they might be a different flavor of neurodivergent or have co-occurring physical/mental conditions. This is always a good thing to talk to them about more specifically and in more detail, if both of you are comfortable with it.) It might also be a good idea to say you’re neurodivergent as an explanation for why you need your living conditions to be the way they are and why you may be less willing or likely to budge on them—they’re not just preferences, they’re accommodations, things you NEED. However, if you’re uncomfortable disclosing this information—if you think that mentioning it might alienate potential roommates who are ableist or have misconceptions about neurodivergence, or if you’re just uncomfortable with saying you’re for sure neurodivergent when you’re not entirely sure (believe me, I get it; I’ve been there, and still kinda am!)—then you don’t have to say it. Another option is to see if any potential roommate matches mention that they are neurodivergent—then you can privately message them and say you suspect that you might be, too. This way you don’t have to disclose it to the world in your profile, but you might still find people who are wired the same or a similar way that you are.

Aside from that—my advice is to be as honest as possible when filling out these questionnaires. Obviously you can’t predict everything about how you’ll ACTUALLY turn out to live and behave in college—maybe you anticipate spending lots of time outside of your room for an extracurricular that you don’t even end up doing, or you liked to keep your room neat in high school, but with all the responsibilities and stress of college life, cleaning your room ends up falling by the wayside. You can’t predict that with absolute certainty, and the prospective roommates looking at your answers know that—it’s all preliminary guesswork. After all, they’re guessing how they’ll live, too! But given that, do your best to be as honest as you can. Don’t feel bad or ashamed, or like you need to hide/downplay any of your living habits! It’s not “bad” or “wrong” to have a messy room, go to bed late, or use/not use substances. It’s better to be upfront about things like this, so your roommate doesn’t feel deceived when your living patterns turn out to be different than how you made them out to be in the questionnaire—or so you don’t have to feel like you have to overhaul your own living habits. Self-improvement is a great thing to aspire to, but with all the changes that come with moving to college, it can just cause more stress—especially for neurodivergent people who need routines and familiarity. (Even if going to bed at 3 AM is your routine—*cough* me *cough*) And feeling like you have to tiptoe around another person or suppress your own needs can cause resentment to build up over time, and that’s not fair to you or your roommate. You don’t have to disclose anything you’re not comfortable with, but be as honest as you can.

To close out this section, here’s a quick, funny comic about how these questionnaires often go for people filling them out!

Part 2: Narrowing It Down Through Conversation

So! What next? If your college has picked out a roommate for you, or if you’ve got a list of contenders for your future roommate—people who have high compatibility scores with you on the roommate questionnaire or who have commented and expressed interest in being your roommate over social media—then the next thing to do is reach out to them! There might be a messaging feature embedded within the housing portal, or people might put their Instagram/Twitter/Discord/etc. info in the part of the roommate questionnaire that asks for a brief description of them. If you found someone through social media in the first place, you can just DM them on that account! Worse comes to worst, you can just Google “[person’s name] + [college name] + [‘28]”, and you’ll often get a social media profile for them that way.

What I did was take the top few people from the list of possible compatible roommates that the program spit out, then sent them each the same message I’d written beforehand. From what I can remember, I introduced myself, explained that the roommate portal matched us up/suggested that we’d be compatible, and said I was excited to get to know them more and see if we’d like to be roommates—and, if that wasn’t possible, if we could be friends as we both entered our college. I’d usually find a little detail from their profile and expand on that to start a conversation—things like: “I noticed on your profile that you like anime! I love it too—my favorite is Cowboy Bebop, but I like all kinds! What are your favorites? Do you have any recommendations?” or “I saw on your profile that you’re a fencer! That’s so cool, I’ve always wanted to learn that! Are you planning to join the fencing team or take classes at [School]?” (To be clear, I just made these up—I hadn’t watched Cowboy Bebop yet when I started college! I also hadn’t tried fencing yet, which is actually true to the message I made up—now I have taken a fencing class and can confidently say that I absolutely SUCK at it. But I digress.) 

The next few messages, back and forth, are where you begin to get to know this person and (hopefully!) establish a friendship with them. Beyond just the logistics of living, you get to see if you click. You don’t want to live with someone with whom you’d always have an awkward silence or feel on edge, or whom you just plain don’t like or find annoying—even if you have the exact same schedules and living preferences! A good roommate is someone with whom you feel comfortable—because, after all, they’re the person with whom you’ll spend the majority of your time for a year. Things like shared interests are a bonus, even if they’re not strictly necessary—it’s nice to have built-in ways to spend downtime with your roommate and bond with them. For instance, if you’re both into anime, you can watch it together; if you both like biking, you can go on bike rides together. Again, you don’t have to be best friends with your roommate—and if you don’t expect to be best friends with them, it lowers the pressure on both of you as you get to know each other!—but it’s nice to click with them, at least a little. (If you’re having trouble carrying on the conversation, I’ve written this guide to getting-to-know-you conversations and socializing, specifically for autistic people! Again, I’m by NO means an expert, but hopefully it can prove a little helpful!)

If you’ve messaged back and forth and are seriously considering the possibility of being roommates, I’d suggest at least one video chat before making it official, for a few reasons:

You can get a sense of how well you mesh in spoken back-and-forth conversations…which you’ll be having a LOT of if you’re roommates! Texts/DMs don’t always translate to spoken conversations (whether IRL or over video calls) the same way.

The two of you can see what the other looks like beyond their curated social media profile.

You can give each other a virtual tour of your rooms at home, to show them what your living situation is currently like.

If you’re comfortable with it, you can meet each other’s families—whom you might be seeing a LOT of during move-in!

And remember: if you message lots of people (who themselves are also messaging lots of people), it’s inevitable that some roommate relationships won’t work out! Sometimes the other person might ghost you, or find another roommate, or YOU might find a roommate and have to let the other people you messaged down easy, or you might decide that you’re better as friends than as roommates, or they might just annoy the hell out of you. That’s okay! Barring the first and last situations, just because you’re not roommates doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. And, in fact, by messaging a lot of people for roommate selection, oops—you’ve accidentally made lots of good, friendly connections for when the school year starts, and now you know more people you’ll see in your dorm, in class, in the dining halls, etc.! Even if someone’s not your future roommate, they could be your future study group member, or partner for meals, or person with whom to laugh at terrible sitcoms, or whatever.

Part 3: Maybe Not Even Having A Roommate At All?!?!?

One more thing to consider: if you’re worried about having a roommate, then, depending on your school, you might be able to get a single room to yourself and not have to have a roommate at all! The rules are different from one school to the next—my mom spent all four years of her undergraduate education happily in singles, never having a roommate, whereas my school requires you to have a roommate your first year. That is…unless you have medical accommodations that require you living in a single. If you’re really worried about roommates—if you think that the stress of having one might be sensory overload or detrimental to your mental health (and it can be a lot, being around someone All The Time!) and you need time to unmask & be truly on your own, then it might be worth looking into accommodations. These can look like: a “medical single,” an early room-selection slot to make sure you can pick a single before they’re all taken, etc. See if your school offers something similar; it’ll usually be under an office with a name like “Accessibility,” “Accommodations,” “ADA,” etc.

However, two caveats:

Accommodations like this often require some form of paperwork confirming an official diagnosis. Some accessibility offices aren’t very lenient about self-diagnosis or even diagnoses that are in progress. I assume, from your saying that you’re “pretty sure you’re some flavor of neurodivergent,” that you haven’t gotten an official diagnosis, and I can totally understand all the reasons you or others may not have one—lack of access, lack of permission, doubtful doctors, worries about how a diagnosis may affect other aspects of your life, just not wanting to or not being sure yet! I myself am just at the “maybe-possibly autistic” stage and only recently considered the possibility of a diagnosis as a Real Thing In My Future. But keep in mind that accommodations offices, ironically, might not be that understanding or accommodating.

Sometimes, unfortunately, accessibility administration can just be bad at their jobs and a hassle to deal with—so getting accommodations like this might be a long fight, and might not happen until you’re already in a room. Then you’d have to deal with the stress of having a roommate for a few months, compounded with the stress of having to pack up and move into a new single, sometimes in another building entirely!

This is where it’s good to look into resources for incoming students to your school, preferably ones where current students can answer questions freely and with candor—like those social-media pages for incoming students (if they’re run by students themselves), or groups on Facebook, Discord, Sidechat/YikYak, etc.—and see how good your school’s accessibility office’s track record is when it comes to granting accommodations quickly, helpfully, and fairly. People who have dealt with them before can answer and give you some insight. (I’ll admit, some of my rancor might be coming from experiences I’ve witnessed at my school, whose accessibility office can, to put it in the nicest way possible, be hit-or-miss…)

Part 4: My Personal Experience/Conclusion

Now for a bit of a tangent about my personal experience. Luckily, I’ve had really good luck with roommates the two years I had them. My first-year roommate, whom I met through the questionnaire, was really nice and made a good, respectful roommate. Although we haven’t crossed paths much after first year, we’re still friendly when we do see each other. Then, in my second year, I couldn’t room with that person again because she became an RA and was assigned a single, so I roomed with one of my best friends, whom I’d met at the beginning of first year! Unfortunately, they and I ended up sharing the world’s tiniest “dingle” (a single into which the college shoved two beds and pretended it was a double), where there was hardly room to move around without bumping into each other. But both of us proved very accommodating (at least, I hope I was!) and actually ended that year with an even closer friendship, instead of coming to blows and wanting to kill each other. I’m not sure I would have been able to share that single with anyone else but them! (Actually, I’m Tumblr mutuals with both of these people—to be clear, we followed each other here after knowing each other in real life; we didn’t meet on Tumblr and then happen to go to the same college—which I guess speaks to how we’re similar flavors of weird??? And if either of them see this post, I hope you know how wonderful you are and I apologize if I’ve misrepresented you!!) My third year, I was assigned a single due to an on-campus job I had, and I’ll have a single this coming year because I’m a senior.

I won’t lie and say the transition was easy—it’s never easy going to college for the first time, especially when you’re living in a dorm away from home. But when I followed the steps I outlined above, it made it a lot easier for me and gave me two lovely roommates; I’m so glad to have shared the experience with them. I really hope my super long-winded guide was helpful, and I hope you have similar luck and a great experience, both with finding a roommate and with college life in general! I’ve had so much fun in college so far—for me, it’s been worlds better than high school!—and I wish the same for you. 💖

[bornetoblood]

@littlealeta making a new post for this just cus I feel a little bad tagging onto this post ad infinum I hope you don’t mind :)

A lot of the things I have to say on this are pretty complicated (and I’m a little stupid) so sorry if this is like... uninteligable (also dw you’re not being mean! This is a pretty light hearted discussion about a video game I’m really not taking it to heart). I hope you don’t mind me doing the same right back at ya.

I don't really mind Vincent not saying he has a girlfriend since he's confused as to what he wants in his life, plus Rin and Catherine both threw themselves at him not Vincent. I think the game often gets viewed wrongly, a lot of people seem to think that if you have a partner, you should settle down with them and not think about breaking up with them. The game is trying to tell you that while it's not okay to cheat and betray your partner, it is okay to not have serious relationships.

My problem with Vince not telling Catherine he has a girlfriend doesn’t stem from the fact I expect him to settle down or think that’s best for him (the true freedom ending is my favourite for a reason) I have a problem with the fact it is a very serious betrayal of Katherine’s trust. While there are extenuating circumstances (the like... demon shit) Vince’s reluctance to come clean to both the girls purely stems from him not wanting to face consequences, which is selfish. Again I don’t think this is bad from a character standpoint, I find it very compelling, but it is immoral.

The problem is moreso how both Catherine and Katherine are written. They're both selfish and overly controlling to your character in different ways that it's just hard to fathom why Vincent would want to be with either of them. I wish Katherine was written to be less selfish, like why would you want to marry and have children with a man who drinks, smokes, lives in a messy apartment, and spends money impulsively? And Catherine had such rapey and yandere vibes from the start, which doesn't make sense because again, the game is focused on cheating and the idea of whether you want to live a free or traditional life. So why make both women so mean-spirited to the protagonist, one of them even raping and sexually assaulting him? And Vincent isn't even concerned about it? At least make Catherine's evilness more subtle and maybe not really come up until later in the game as Vincent starts pushing her away more and have Vincent not remember what happened between him and Catherine at the bar at all.

I agree and I think Full Body remedied the points with Katherine specifically to an extent. The scenes we are shown of Kath and Vince at the begining of their relationship genuinely makes me wanna see if they can make it work like that again! I think Kath wants to marry Vince cus they’ve been together for 5 years and they’ve both drifted apart over the years and don’t want to acknowledge that. The K endings read to me as the rekindling of their dynamic that had been dampened over time if that makes any sense. The deal with C is that I think her malice is already a slow burn (the SA point I fully agree on btw even if it is kinda ambiguous if they ever actually had sex when she says they did ((cus of the whole demon thing)). I think theres a relitive suspension of disbelief with C because she is supernatural. I think C nad K are both pretty compelling and both can be good for the Vince that ends up with them (the Vince that wishes to settle down and rekindle his romance and the Vince who wants to be king of hell). 

But isn't that what all the characters in the game do? Is challenge women and each other? If they weren't, wouldn't we have Vincent agreeing to settle down with Katherine from the start? Sure Vincent has a problem with speaking up, but it doesn't mean he doesn't wish to rebel against the pressure women place on him. Personally, I can see Vincent's point here. He's often pressured by women to live a traditional, old-fashioned life of finding one partner and settling down with them. Vincent doesn't care about serious relationships, he just wants to take his time hooking up with women until he finds the one he truly loves. Like I said, cheating is never okay. But we've never seen Vincent make a move on Catherine.

Vincent may be jumping to conclusions about women here, but that's all he's ever known, since both Erica and Katherine and even most Catherine players are pressuring him to settle down and to stay with the one he's been with for a long time, even if she may not be right for him.

Vince being a guy who wants to sleep around and not settle down is the same Vince who wants to settle down with his family, or be with no one at all, we get to pick which Vince he becomes and the game is about Vince self discovering into the ending we pick for him. He is all and non of these things. Vince, and the other men in Catherine, experiencing pressure from women does not excuse thier treatment of them and I do not blame the women for this, it’s society as a whole that places this importance on marriage and women are more so affected by that expectation (that was created by men might I add). Marriage may be right for Vincent Brookes and it might not be. There is no right way to climb the tower.

Like Katherine, Erica can be well-intentioned at times, but just some of the things these two say just sound very morally biased, especially regarding relationships, mostly about the importance of being tied down. It's why I cannot stand any of the women in the game. They all just seem so shallow and narrow-minded. Maybe it's because I'm not someone who is focused on going after the idea of marriage, but I don't see how it's a problematic thing to not want to settle down, get married, and have a family, especially in the 21st century. Maybe that kind of thing is different in Japan, but here in the western world, where Catherine is set, those things aren't important anymore.

I’m also adverse to marriage for myself, the talk in Catherine about the importance of marriage all sounds the same to me. But it is the same coming from every character in the game, which is why I don’t hold it against Katherine or Erica and still fully enjoy them (Erica specifcially being one of my favourites I love that she takes 0 shit from anyone). Also sorry if this is pedantic but Catherine is set on Mars in an amalgum of the US and Japan (like Ace Attorney ((not the Mars part)). It being a made up setting allows it to make its own culture, which happens to be one where society deems marriage very important. I wish the characters ‘happy endings’ didn’t tend to end in marriage too but that seems more like a general thing with how Atlus decided to write the game than a specific character issue if that makes sense.

Again, I do agree that Vincent isn't written as well as he could have been but with what they had, I think they did a decent job, especially compared to characters like Shinji, Jerry Smith, and Arlo the Dinosaur who are just shallow and/or inconsistent characters. I just find everyone else shallow for the reasons I mentioned in the other post and I just can't find myself connecting to their characters. Orlando even goes back and forth between saying his ex betrayed him and he betrayed his ex. Like, am I supposed to even sympathize with this character? Is he a victim or not? I don't even know what exactly happened between him and his ex.

I ADORE these character inconsistancies. With Orlando specifically it’s implied his use of their finacies in the scam was a betrayal of sorts (like he lost their life savings by getting tricked) and his wife leaving him cus of this was also a betrayal. I love it because there is no good or bad guy here, it’s humans in a human scenario where they both made mistakes and I find that deeply compelling. Orlando’s struggle with blaming his wife and then himself for the totality of the situation is soooo fuckin cool I feel like I’ve known people like Orlando.

Like with Archie and some of the other sheep, trauma is not always an excuse to be an asshole. I went through some trauma, Vincent has gone through way more trauma, and we still care about others and want to do the right thing. We're not perfect, but at least we're willing to help others which Vincent's friends rarely do, at least they're not as empathetic with him.

I despise Archie and I would dance on his grave, but what I do love about this side quest is that it shows off how compassionate and loving Vincent is. He forgives and loves unconditionally no matter how awful a human being is and is always there to help them. When they die, he becomes quite shaken.

Here I think we are simply after different things in these characters. Archie’s trauma does not excuse his actions and never will but they do contextualise them and make him sympathetic. I can empathise with how he has come to the conclusions he has due to his past even if those conclusions are harmful and wrong. This is what I love in characters, messiness and humaness. This goes for all of the patrons for me btw. I agree that Vince’s interactions with the sheep bring the best out of him (tbh I think they showcase his more confident and heroic side in a much more natural way than Rin does lmao). Vincent finds comradre with a group of other traumatised, also misogonistic men. They learn together. Get better together. They open up to each other in a way society has barred from them outside of this life and death scenario and they are better people for it. They remedy their biases and they have each other now ( have i mentioned the bar patrons are my favourite part? cus they’re my favourite part).

I don't see the problem with the game showing another side to Vincent. I think it was Atlus's attempt at showing Vincent's more likeable side (which I think they did a good job with compared to the original) but it also tracks because we've seen Vincent being mentally stable and compassionate like this toward the other sheep. Rin is the only character who's consistently nice to Vincent, so it makes sense that Vincent would be at his best with him. Rin is perfect because he's an angel. And he does have flaws, he refuses to forgive Vincent after he apologizes for pushing him away. That was a cowardly and cold move considering how close they were. I think I just like that Rin is the only character who actually shows empathy and support for our main protagonist when everyone else hardly did.

My problem isn’t with Vincent showing another side, it’s that I think this shift is sudden and jarring. Vincent acts sooo differently in the Rin cutscenes (even when he’s with his friends he was stammering next to like 5 seconds earlier). Like I said I thnk this is done better in regards to his slow gain in confidence with the sheep. Rin is the only character who is pretty much always nice to Vince and, yes, it is because they are an (at least allegorical) angel but I do find this... boring and not very compelling. Flawless characters send me to sleep sorry I just can’t personally see the appeal in someone who has no room to grow. I feel like an angel character can have compelling flaws but they just didn’t do this with Rin and thus their scenes do not grab me the way the rest of the cast’s do. I am aware this is my personal preference but I do like my characters with a little more going on. Rin refusing to forgive Vince for having the literally textbook transphobic response to seeing them naked is not a flaw, in fact I think they reacted too mildly. While Rin is not explicitly trans I hope you understand I’ve seen the whole: Character is she/her’d, character is revealed to have a penis (shocking!!! violent and/or disgusted reaction expected!!), character is he/him’d like a billion times and I am a little sick of it actually.

I suppose my point here is that Catherine is about the relationships between damaged people. Navigating those relationships through the hardships is what I find compelling about the game and Rin distictly lacks that dimension. Vincent works for and cultivates his healthy support system by the end of the game. He gets closer to his friends, to other men, to himself- regarless on whether he chooses to persue romance. Rin throws a pretty hefty spanner in this for me in a way that could of been interesting but feels underbaked. I get why people like these additions but it runs in direct contrast to all the things I find interesting about the game soo uhh yeh.

[ikram1909]

Personally, I don’t like Beckham. That might just be club bias because he’s played for two of the clubs I hate most, but Inter Miami is such a scam. I mean, it’s so obviously a publicity stunt to garner money and attention by signing players like Messi, Suarez, Alba, and Busquets. You can’t fool me into thinking Beckham is doing this to expand his team and create a club that can actually challenge for trophies because if that were the case he wouldn’t be signing players who are a few shy years from retirement and also don’t particularly care about the club (in the sense that the Old Barça 4 are probably only there because they wanted to play together one last time, like it could have been any club in the MLS and they would have went if it meant they could retire together). I’m sure it’s absolutely great for business, but it’s so shallow to rely on Messi’s fame to boost that shitty club. Sorry if I’m being overly harsh or not making sense, it’s just so demeaning to me that a club that generally isn’t all that good gets so much media attention because they’re just milking Messi when he should be treated as more than just a media magnet.

No, I totally understand your frustration. He didn't have the career he had just to be used as a pr machine for a shitty team. Beckham can fuck off with all that

[fyodior]

Hey Flora!! I absolutely love matchups so I wanted to give this a try!

Nickname: Ai Mbti: ESTP Pronouns: She/Her

Basic Info: I work in graphic design, my jobs pretty flexible, so I stay home quite frequently during work hours.

Appearance: I’m pretty tall, about 6’1. I have long black hair, really dark brown eyes, and pale skin.

Personality: I’d consider myself a relatively smart person- especially when it comes to people. I try to analyze everyone around me, it helps me talk to them in a way were it’s more possible I’ll get the outcome I want (If that makes any sense-) People call me manipulative and hey, maybe I am, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I’m kind of stubborn, if I don’t wanna do something unnecessary, I’m not gonna bother. I’m sorry this is really bad, I can’t really describe myself flat out so I’ll try to elaborate on it more in other ways 😭

Likes: Drama, ever since I was little I always liked knowing everything about everyone (I was a fucking menace as a kid 😰) Debates, sure, some instances could be considered arguments but they’re still entertaining— if I’m passionate about an opinion, I WILL fight to the death about it. Music, I can’t even focus w/o listening to music, I always carry my headphones with me. Horror, again, ever since I was kid, I’ve always been into horror. I could ramble about Junji Ito’s work (*cough* The Enigma of Amigara Fault *cough*) all day long. Cussing people out, not sure why, it’s just fucking hilarious. Pulling allnighters. Spiders, used to bring in these massive orb weavers into my house as a kid and let them live in my room.

Dislikes: Being dominated, any context, I do not like it. Being told to shut up, I swear to god I can deck you in the face and will if you don’t let me ramble about the random nonsense I enjoy. Overly sensitive people. I cannot stand people who go off crying every 5 minutes. Harry Styles. I fucking hate Harry Styles. I don’t actually have many things I genuinely dislike tbh-

Nsfw: why not

Characters I don’t want to be paired with: Mori

ai x ango

first off -- sorry this took me so long!! im hoping its better late than never ♡

✎ i rly feel like this is the perfect match for u

✎ the general vibes i am picking up are: intelligent (emotionally and academically), straightforward, passionate, analytical. very virgo

✎ this is essentially ango in a nutshell too pfffff

✎ i think its less manipulation and more being confident in knowing what you want and how to get it. also very ango. he would have immense respect for this/for you and you drive and decisiveness as a person

✎ i feel like ango can tend to act a bit high and mighty, but he would see you entirely as an equal. you match him in intellect and commitment to a cause.

✎ you are both very fact-driven, and less so emotionally driven. you'd often see eye to eye on a lot of topics, just because you come at them with the same viewpoint/attitude

✎ re: also strongly dislikes overly emotional people who are incredibly sensitive and reactive

✎ on the flip side this man is messy as fuck and so is a drama queen bfdkfjdfkj he will gossip with you and get nosy he loves it

✎ he can come off as cold/distant and self-serving, but in private he is far from it. he would gladly listen to you essentially present dissertations on whatever topic has caught your attention recently, or

✎ i see him as a very gentle lover. would never ever make you feel like anything other than his equal whom he loves and respects, and wants to treat you as such. he's the type you can just sit in comfortable silence with, not feeling any obligation to "entertain" the other.

✎ gentle lover continued: he's very thoughtful and in tune with your wants and needs, as he is also incredibly analytical and reads people very well. he can tell when you're having a shit day and will quietly bring you your comfort food/drink or just put on some music for you and leave you alone if that's what you want. he wouldn't bother the shit out of you to talk it out with him or whatever pffff he knows you'll communicate when and how you want.

✎ nsfw: i see ango as not necessarily vanilla, but appreciates simpler things. he LOVES seeing you in lingerie, especially something he picked out for you. riding him wearing a lacy black set of bra and panties pushed to the side- mf will last approximately 5 minutes fdkfjkdf but don't worry he will eat you out/finger you to your hearts content and come as many times as he can pull out of you teehee

✎ ango does not mind being the dominated one in the relationship sexually bfdkfjdbd i see this man being so pathetic and whiny in bed and will totally let you fuck him up pls

✎ i guess what im trying to say is that the two of you would coexist very well, and view/approach life very similarly. perfect match imo :)

[justagalwhowrites]

bestie i need to ask a clarifying question about t*ss and joel in lavender. in my mind i think of them as friends who boink occasionally, but they’re not in a relationship or otherwise loyal to each other romantically or sexually. but i feel like from what some of the other anons are saying, maybe i am misunderstanding what it is? like are they actually together? i thought they had a dynamic similar to doc and tommy post-breakup where they’re friends who have sex sometimes (ideally t*ss and joel fuck less than doc and tommy do bc i’m petty lol). idk i’ve just seen other anons describe them as “together” but i never thought they were together, joel just uses her for sex occasionally (which i am still not happy about, don’t get me wrong!!)

also, keeping up the trend of censoring t*ss name lmao ✊🏻 solidarity, sisters

Bahahahahaha the anti-Tess solidarity always sends me.

Here's how I always kind of interpreted their relationship based on the show and how I'm writing it in Lavender: besties with benefits (at least from Joel's side.) Given Tess' saying "not to feel the way I felt" my thought is they had a conversation at one point about being something more (prompted by Tess) and Joel was like "no, I can't do that" and they stuck with being business partners/best friends who also have sex at least every now and then. I also figured that, outside of the sex part of their relationship, they'd be reasonably physically affectionate toward each other - when in private - in a more platonic way just because they had no other outlets. They're both loners but touch is a basic need and it's going to show up somewhere (hence things like Tess climbing into bed with him and shit though that may have been more feelings driven on her side.) (Also maybe I'm weird and an overly physically affectionate person but I cuddle like all my friends lmfao so this is just like "oh yeah, this makes sense" to me. Like when one of my besties comes to visit my husband just expects to either a. get kicked out of bed or make room in the morning for bestie cuddle time or b. have me disappear and go to the guest room for bestie cuddle time, this is the way of things)

So yeah, in Lavender at least (and in my interpretation of the show as well), they're not really romantically entangled just somewhat physically involved. Very much like Tommy/Doc (though Joel didn't really know Tommy and Doc were still fucking just that they were good friends, Tommy basically never slept over and preferred to just leave it unsaid to try to dodge Joel's wrath.) STILL MESSY AF BECAUSE DOC but still, they're not in some kind of committed relationship or anything.

ANYWAY YEAH SORRY TO WRITE A BOOK HERE BUT THERE IT IS BESTIE! Thank you for reading, love you!

[isimpfortoomanypeople]

The photo of you- Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Eddie loves you more than anything in the world, he keeps a photo of you in his wallet everywhere he goes. It’s because of his love for you he decided to keep your relationship a secret, sharing small glances across the halls and date nights at one of your houses, whatever he can to stop the torment he was receiving to be thrown upon you. Till one day he photo gets discovered and Jason decides to humiliate Eddie for it.

Warnings: just Jason being an asshole and that’s about it

A/N: I’ve written an angsty Eddie fic so I decided to be nice to everyone and release the happier fic first. I haven’t abandoned my other works in progress it’s just that stranger things oneshots have been flooding my brain. I may have portrayed D&D wrong but I just joined last term (semester) at my uni (college) so I’m still a newbie so sorry if I get somethings wrong. Im Also from the U.K. sorry if it sounds overly British in some parts. Apologies for all spelling and grammatical mistakes as I’m super dyslexic, enjoy

Eddie sighed massaging the stress out of his temples. Tonight was and dare he say it, the worst campaign of hellfire he has ever had the displeasure to DM!

He had to call the campaign off half and hour into the game. Sinclair had a stupid balls and laundry basket game, Erica was sick so she couldn’t be his sub, Mike was spending time with El as he was visiting her for the week. The campaign crumbled the second it started especially without some of its most promising players, so he had to call it quits. Which of course was met by complaints and grumbles from the remaining players as they got out of their seats to leave. Honestly some people think that dungeon master is easily the most laid back role in the campaign but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You have to spend hours perfecting the next instalment so it continues on from where the game ended last time, making character sheets, remembering what has happened to each character and so on and so forth.

Being an dungeon master was no easy feat but Eddie does love it, he loves seeing the engrossed faces of all the players as they’re lead into battle to defeat orcs or dragons, he loves how electric the atmosphere gets when someone has to roll to get a critical hit it’s as if all time stops together and you’re truly there, it blurs the lines between reality and fiction for 2 hours, it’s truly a sight to behold. But most importantly Eddie for 2 hours is able to not be Eddie the freak Munson but rather someone who people regard with respect and admiration, yes he has learnt to grow thick skin just to survive day to day and has learnt to let all the insults and sneers not to get to him. But even the most toughest people deserve that small window of respite.

“Jesus H Christ!” He jumped as he felt a pair of arms circle around his waist pressing their body into his.

“Sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his messy curls. You felt him melt into your touch, rubbing small circles into your forearms letting out that sigh he’s been holding in all night.

“What’s wrong?” You questioned not use to seeing him so stressed out especially after hellfire, resting your chin on his shoulder. Inhaling his signature sent of cigarettes which you’ve grown to find comforting, it was the smell of him, it was the smell of home.

“2 members dropped out of tonights campaign, and one of their subs was sick. So I had to deal with the shit of having to cut the campaign short which made the others pissed off at me, if they think that being a DM is easy they’re more than welcome to take over hellfire” he spat out with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.

You both knew he didn’t mean that, he adored hellfire and all of the members. You sometimes joked to Eddie that he loved Hellfire more than you, which always ended up with you squealing as he peppered your face in kisses till you couldn’t breathe, him proclaiming how much he loved you more than anything in the world.

But you knew he was stressed, you could feel the knots in his shoulders turning to steel as frustration took a hold of every nerve in his body. So you didn’t try to crack your usual jokes as his mind was already burning in a fiery rage.

You placed another kiss to his temple

“How about you come to mine later? My parents are out of town for the week, I can get a six pack and we can watch that film I rented from family video?” You suggested, laughing as you heard his breath hitch in excitement

“You mean nightmare on elm street?” you mumbled in agreement, he sounded like Christmas has came early to him.

“What did i ever do to deserve a girl like you sweetheart” he smiled, turning you to face him, placing a tender kiss on your lips.

It felt good to give him that distraction that he needed, that his sour mood sweeten in a matter of moments. But that’s Eddie for you, he’s like a puppy, he gets excited and distracted by the smallest of things. It makes your heart swell seeing his big toothy grin emerge from the deep frown his face held just moments prior.

“Let’s go Eds” you smiled lacing your fingers through his

——————————————————————————

Yours and Eddie’s relationship was kept a secret, only reserved to giving small waves across the room to each other, when you were both certain no one else was looking. You would kill to be able to kiss your boyfriend like every couple in Hawkins, though kiss wasn’t the right word, sometimes it felt like they were trying to swallow each other’s faces. To be able to go on a date that wasn’t reserved to the four walls of each other’s rooms. You loved Eddie with all your heart, that you make yourself sick with the fluffy nauseating way he never exits your mind, you feel like you’re a freshman all over again .

It was rather Eddie’s idea to keep your relationship a secret, not that he doesn’t love you. He loves you to the point of insanity, that his band has questioned why they’ve recently started to learn ‘I was made for loving you’ by kiss to add to their hideout set list. Eddie couldn’t love anyone other than you, the boy has favoured you over his guitar, if that isn’t the biggest declaration of love from Eddie he doesn’t know what is. He did this all to protect you.

Eddie can handle the insults that is hurled at him without any regards to how vulgar they are, he can handle the way the jocks try their hardest everyday to make his life a living hell.

But something Eddie couldn’t handle was if the insults and occasional punches was targeted towards you. It would crush Eddie in all the ways those insults were supposed to crush him, he wouldn’t allow that to happen to the girl he loved. Even if you were limited to small glances across the cafeteria so be it as long as you were safe.

——————————————————————————

You sat next to Nancy and the rest of the people who formed the school newspaper. Nancy and you became inseparable since you joined the newspaper, she admired your hardworking attitude and that you stuck up for her when no one else supported her idea to write an article on the fires of starcourt mall. The others believed the idea too dreary and bleak especially as Hawkins has a habit to move on as if it didn’t happen last month, you argued that we needed to remember those who we lost so their names will never be forgotten. And ever since then you became close friends.

Nancy was one of the reasons you and Eddie started dating, unbeknownst to her but if she did know she wouldn’t let you forget that it was because of her, so maybe it was best that you Eddie kept it a secret?

She gave you the task to make a small article on hellfire for the schools newspaper, ‘don’t worry about it, it’s going to be a small article as I doubt many people will be too interested in the club’, it did very little to calm your nerves but you were thankful that she gave you a report despite only joining two weeks prior.

For your report all you needed to do was note down about the club and what they did, it sounds simple enough? It would of been an easy write up but you got so distracted by the campaign that it completely erased the reason why you were sitting in the hellfire room in the first place.

Your nerves took hold of you making your stomach contort into knots. Fuck! Your first report and you didn’t write a single thing down! Yep you’re definitely getting kicked out of the newspaper!

“Are you okay?”

You looked up from your notepad, your eyes met by a pair of chocolate brown ones slightly closed in confusion.

“I’m fine, why?” you squeaked your voice failing to hide the rising anxiety that coursed through your body, as your words came out so fast making the pitch become higher with each syllable.

You cringed after realising how your own throat cracked your facade, you darted your eyes towards the floor already feeling the shameful crimson blush creeping it’s way across your cheeks.

“It’s just that everyone else left 10 minutes ago and you’ve been staring into a blank notepad that you’ve been shaking frantically” the brunette stated, his voice heavy in confusion as he packed away the remaining figurines of tonight’s campaign.

“Oh” was all you could muster to say, the temperature of the room increased rapidly, your tongue felt like it doubled in size making your speech incredibly difficult to understand

“You didn’t write any of it down did you?”

You swallowed thickly, weakly shaking your head. Praying to whatever was above to allow the earth to swallow you whole.

Great now he thinks that you’re unfit to be a reporter because aren’t reporters supposed to be good at their job?!

You couldn’t stop your mind from racing, the contents of your stomach slowly rising, you felt like you were on a hellish carousel with no sign of the ride stopping anytime soon.

“It’s only because I was too engrossed in the game, i forgot that I was supposed to write about it”

The room went silent after a few seconds went by, Eddie finally processed what you just said in your anxiety fuelled outburst. The deafening silence was met by a loud thud of Eddie’s book dropping upon the floor.

Did he just hear you right? Y/N Y/L/N seriously just told him that she thought hellfire was entertaining? No surely that can’t be true? Right?

Eddie was so dumbfounded about what has just exited your mouth. All sentences he tried to form broke upon exit, leaving his mouth agape and his eyes wide.

“I’m sorry, you found hellfire entertaining?”

You nodded, still trying to find the words to speak. You’ve never really observed Eddie till this moment in time, how his eyes were rich in its chocolate tone, that his sharp jaw captured his face beautifully or how his hair look soft and luscious-

No no no! You weren’t supposed to find the “freak of Hawkins” attractive, this was far from the plan. Why did you agree to do this article?

“I didn’t write anything down, I wanted to ask some questions and hopefully I can actually write this article” you suggested to Eddie, the subtext of your suggestion was heavily applying that he suggested you should meet up again and hopefully one on one.

Eddie picked up the book from the floor and looked you in the eyes to see if he hasn’t read the situation wrong. But the way you blushed when he looked at you made him realise that the impossible was true, someone in this wretched town actually liked him.

“Well sweetheart how about you ask me these questions next Thursday, say 6?” He bit his lips and looked at you, his confidence fuelling him to make the first move, as the girl he secretly admired from a distance may finally want him back

Eddie carries your photo in his wallet, it’s his most prized possession. He carries it on him at all times not daring to part with it. He took it the night he finally had the guts to ask you to be his, still not believing his luck that the hottest girl in Hawkins is now officially his girlfriend.

It captured you wearing his famous hellfire shirt that he allowed you to sleep in, you were holding a big smile on your face, your hair messily tied up, with one of his rings looped through a necklace around your neck.

While you couldn’t bare to part from the silver around your neck, it feels like he’s always close to you in moments when you can’t be. It’s a way of you saying that your his and you always will be. You have the chain tucked underneath your shirt allowing the cold metal to rest upon your heart.

Eddie was sat at hellfire’s usual table, shovelling pretzels into his mouth rolling his eyes at the sickening posters that decorated the cafeteria, each one advertised the upcoming prom night. All these brightly coloured posters covered the walls, it infuriated him. How dare these couples be allowed to show their love freely while he can’t hold his girl’s hand in fear of her being hurt.

“So are you going to ask Y/N to prom?”

Eddie choked on the pretzels he was just about to swallow. He looked at Dustin wide eyed as if the 15 year old has just lost his mind

“Dude! We’re on about Y/N here, there’s no way” Gareth laughed, dismissing all possibilities that Eddie could get someone so well respected with in the school to go out with him.

“Yeah, she’s friends with Nancy and not once has she mentioned him” Mike added further proving how ridiculous Dustin sounded

“Why would you even think that?” Eddie nervously laughed filling his face with more food, hopefully if his mouth is full he won’t be able to answer Dustin’s pestering and would be able to keep the relationship a secret

“Because when you was stressed the fuck out during the last campaign, you dropped your wallet packing up and I saw her photo inside and she was wearing his hellfire shirt”

If Eddie could strangle Dustin he would, he buried his hands into his face covering up his embarrassment

The table echoing in a series of “whats!” By all the members, all in a serious state of shock that Eddie has been secretly dating you out of all people

“Yes, I’m dating her. But it’s a secret so I swear to god if any of you say anything I’m kicking your asses out of hellfire without mercy”

“Why don’t you ask her to prom?” Dustin question still not letting this go

“The freak is asking who to prom?”

Great! Eddie thought just what he fucking needs right now is Jason to over hear this conversation

“Non of your business Carver” Eddie said his voice laced with sarcasm rolling his eyes at the jock

“Who is this unlucky girl” he smirked, leaning into Eddie in hopes to intimidate him.

Jason cupped his hands over his mouth to amplify his voice, to broadcast what he had to say to the whole room

“Hey everyone, the freak wants to invite a special girl to prom, so go on Eddie ask her?” He mocked as the whole cafeteria erupted in laughter towards Eddie’s humiliation. All eyes glued upon him, willing him to ask this girl out for their sick twisted amusement

Fuck it! Standing from your seat you started to walk towards Eddie’s direction

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Nancy hissed trying to get you to sit back down and avoid the same humiliation Eddie is facing. Yes she can’t stand Jason and his shitty attitude but she understands he’s Hawkins royalty and someone not to be messed with. She didn’t want you to be on the receiving end of Jason’s sick and twisted entertainment

Ignoring your best friend’s cries you still continued your walk towards the hellfire table. You felt nearly everyone eyes upon you, but let them stare. You are done, done with watching your boyfriend being treated like the jocks punching bag, how Hawkins treats him like a laughing stock with no regards to the person that he actually is.

“Aww cat got your tongue? Well that’s okay you don’t need to ask her as any self respecting girl in Hawkins would laugh in your face” he sneered, grabbing Eddie by his collar to face him “you’re nothing but a-“

“Hey asshole” you called towards the blonde who dropped Eddie the moment he heard your voice. This can’t be? Right? No way would Y/N call him an asshole and try to defend the freak?

“The answer from the mystery girl is yes, yes she will go to the prom with him” you snarled giving the jock the worst death stare you could muster

The whole room went silent, no one knows what was more shocking you standing up to Jason? or you saying yes to Eddie to prom?

Jason looked at you in utter shock, his jaw nearly on the floor. You swear that you could see the cogs turning in his brain trying to conjure up a response to what you just said

“Sweetheart what are you doing?” Eddie whispered at you, his voice slightly cracking in fear for what is to happen to you. Could you lie and say this is some form of prank just to save your reputation?

You placed your lips upon his, kissing him with so much force hoping that you could make him believe that this is how much you love him. Sure receiving insults and jokes made at your expense maybe hard to deal with but not being able to be close to the person that you loved was worse, it was worth the sacrifice

“Just so everyone is clear, me and Eddie are dating and I love him so if anyone has anything to say about it well I simply don’t care, so try your worst ” you announced sitting next to Eddie.

The whole room looked at you with wide eyes, still in shock trying to process what they’ve just witnessed

Placing another kiss to Eddie’s lips to help to close his gaping mouth . He blinked back in disbelief

“Did I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you?”

“All the time Eds”

“I love you sweetheart”

“I love you too eddie”

A/N: I hope this was good, I’m super self critical lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mommy Issues

Warnings: noncon/rape, violence, humiliation, name calling, choking.

Prompts: "Wouldn't it be hot if he found you like this?" + Ransom Drysdale + best friend's mom trope

Summary: You visit your son's dorm but his roommate is more interested than him.

Please leave some feedback and reblog if you enjoy! Thank you 💜

You put the little basket of goodies on Eugene’s bunk and check your phone. He said he was almost done his lecture but he’s never been very good with time. His lack of punctuality is an ongoing battle.

You turn to sit and a figure fills the open door frame. Eugene’s roommate, Ransom, smiles at the basket as he leans his elbow on the metal. He’s a nice kid, a bit rough around the edges as you can tell, but he’s polite. Your son said they both joined the same recreation soccer league on campus; both fratty but not quite.

“You’re so sweet,” he says, “I wish I had a mom like you.”

“Oh?” you smile, “that’s nice of you to say. I only wish I could come down more often.”

“Well, if it means anything, I haven’t seen my mom since June. She was vacationing all summer in Europe,” he slowly steps inside, a hand in his pocket as he dips his chin glumly. He’s bigger than Eugene, shoulders broader, with a few inches on your beanpole of a son, “I don’t even know where exactly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say. Eugene always attracted the ragtags, you still fed many of his classmates from his younger years.

“I mean, it’s better she’s gone, I guess,” he shrugs, “she’s older than you. I think she waited too long and lost interest in the whole kid thing.”

“I’m sure that’s not it, maybe just a bit of a crisis,” you try to comfort him, “so, how are your classes?”

He nears and gestures beside you, “can I?”

“Oh, oops, I totally forgot you were bottom,” you say, “yeah, I mean, it’s your bed.”

He sits as you try to stand and he catches your elbow. He quickly rescinds his hand and rubs the back of his neck, “ah, you can stay, it’s not like we got much options in here.”

He chuckles as he peeks over at the beanbag chair with a few orange nacho crumbs in the divet. You sit back down but feel crowded as his sleeve brushes yours.

“Classes?” he snaps his fingers as he recalls the question, “I think they’re okay. I took Lit because my grandfather but I feel like I’m just hitting replay. I already know most of this… stuff.”

He’s careful not to curse, you never got quite used to that part of motherhood, as if it made your eardrums overly sensitive.

“Oh, I don’t know why I thought you were taking history, I took Lit too,” you say, “don’t use it much now.”

“Yeah?” he leans back, his large hand just behind you on the mattress, “you can’t have been very old when you had Gene–”

“He’s adopted,” you say, “he didn’t say?”

He shakes his head as you meet his blue eyes. They glimmer at you as he holds an even expression.

“Ah,” he nods, “that explains it.”

You shift, a bit uncomfortable and you look at your phone again. Eugene’s sent a message.

‘We can meet for dinner instead. I’m gonna hit up the library, might take a while. Let me know.’

You go to reply that you’ll hang around but you feel Ransom reading over your shoulder. You turn your head, dangerously close to your noses meeting.

“Looks like he’s gonna be late,” you say and glance back to the screen.

“I don’t mind if you wait,” Ransom says, “not much going on on a Tuesday.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” you stand and feel him do the same as you take the purse from the messy desk with your son’s notable anime figure collection, “I think I’ll just take him to a good supper. You boys only eat that garbage they have down at the caf.” You slip your phone in your purse, “you know, you’re welcome to join us–”

You turn as the door clicks shut. You push the strap over your shoulder and pause as you face Ransom. He stands in front of the door and watches you.

“I’m gonna go,” you say sweetly, “as I was saying, you can come along–”

“Stay,” he insists as you step closer, “it’s no problem.”

“Okay, Ransom, I appreciate you offering but you’re… you’re making me uncomfortable–”

“And you’re making me hard,” he snaps, “so stay. Let’s have some fun.”

You cough in suprise and stifle it quickly.

“I’m flattered,” you choke out as disbelief heats your cheeks, “but Ransom, really, that’s not appropriate and I said I want to go–”

“You’re welcome to go,” he says as he gets closer, “go ahead.”

You stare at him, terror shoots up your spine and you smile tensely. It reminds you of your college days when you were stupid enough to study alone with that boy who you couldn’t quite tell no. He was smaller than Ransom and not as bold.

“Okay,” you say crisply and try to sidle past him.

He catches you and flings you back. You stagger and hit the chair, falling into it as your back crashes against the edge of the desk sharply. Your bag falls to the floor as you gasp in pain. He’s strong. You forgot how strong the college boys are.

“Ransom,” you croak as you try to stand.

“Come on, you must miss it,” he approaches you as you get to your feet, “flirting with all the boys. I mean, you came in here wearing those jeans–”

“Ransom, please, we can forget all of this if you just let me go,” you bend to grab your purse but he gets to it first.

He snatches it up and you straighten to face him again. You watch each other in a fragile stalemate, waiting for the other to make a move. You let out a breath and your eyes fall to your brown leather handbag.

You don’t have time to react as he lunges at you and swoops the strap over your head. He forces it down to your neck and twists it tight as you try to bend your fingers beneath the leather. You struggle against him and he angles you around as the strap digs into your skin, catching your fingers and threatening to cut off the circulation.

“Ran–” you rasp as he spins you, gripping the bag as he keeps the strap like a collar around your neck.

You claw at his fingers as he presses himself to your back. He hooks his leg around yours and takes you down to your knees. You hit the floor in pain as you hit the side of the bed with your stomach. He kneels behind you and pushes you against the low bunk as you gulp and gasp for air.

“Shhhh,” he rubs your back, “I didn’t wanna hurt you, just give you what you want–”

You can’t speak as your head throbs and your lashes flutter. You focus on breathing as he threatens to strangle the air from you completely. Your body jerks as he grips the back of your jeans and rips them down.

“Fuck, you gotta a nice ass,” he snarls as he gropes you through your panties, “and look at these.”

He snaps the elastic and tugs them down. You gurgle and he loosens the strap just a little, keeping your head to the blanket. You smell his sweat on the bed as tears prick in your eyes.

You tear your fingers away from your neck and reach back blindly to push against him with your fingertips. He ignores your pathetic struggle as you feel him shift against you.

He drags his tip along your ass and sends a child through you. You sob and curl your fingers, nails digging into your palms as he lines himself up. You sniff as he pushes against your entrance and stretches you around him. Your head shoots up as he impales you and he yanks on the strap.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, “oh, wow, you’re fucking tight.”

You whimper and grasp at him again, catching the front of his shirt blind as he begins to tilt his hips. Each dip of his pelvis sends a ripple through your thighs. Your cunt slickens and you groan in shame.

His flesh claps as he speeds up, each thrust fed by the noise, by the tension coiling through your body. You pant around your lolling tongue, hungry for air, desperate for a release. You squeeze your eyes shut as your walls clench around him and twitch in a sudden orgasm, a pathetic and startling response to his intrusion.

“Shit, are you cumming on me?” he taunts, “you’re fucking cumming, you slut. I knew you wanted me.”

He rams into you, jerking your body against the wooden frame as the bed shakes beneath you. He shoves your head down and stretches his fingers across your scalp. He grunts as a pang shoots up your spine and he bends over you, hips furiously pumping as he puffs.

“I’m gonna cum, too,” he growls, “fuck, I’m gonna cum so deep in you, sweetheart.”

He slams to his limit and spasms as you feel him spill. Your lips tremble and you hide your face from him as the strap slackens around your neck. He groans as he quakes, riding the waves of his climax. When he stills, you’re trapped and suffocating in his heat.

He slides out of you and his cum threads down your thigh. He sits back and you greedily suck in air. He kneads your ass and hums as he pulls apart your cheeks and watches his cum leak out. He chuckles and slaps your ass.

“Wouldn’t it be hot if he found you like this?” He teases, “another present for him, huh? To know his mom’s a slut.”

You plant your hands on the bed and lift yourself. He grabs your panties and pulls them up so his cum seeps into the cotton.

“I think I like the idea of you walking around with me inside you better,” he hums as he tugs your jeans up in turn, “we can have a nice little family dinner.” He snickers as you turn and fall onto your ass, shock draining all your strength, “I’ll try not to get too hard.”

[yutahoes]

Capri Sun

pairing: dad! Yuta Nakamoto x mom! Y/N (featuring Shiho and Shin) word count: 2.5k words genre: fluff, domestic au summary: Shiho is growing up and no one is ready for it.  warnings: overly dramatic dad Yuta, pregnant Y/N, cursing

Based on a small interaction between Yuta and Jaehyun during their mafia V live 😂 This has been in my mind for sometime and I just wrote it in a whim so apologies for the messy storyline and plot.  🙏

Yuta woke up to the sound of footsteps in their home. He reached the clock on the bedside table and saw how early it was. What is happening that they’re all running around? 

He fixed himself before coming out of the room, yawning. Shiho just closed the door of her room, Shin was seated on his high chair, and his wife was nowhere to be seen. Vanilla can be smelled from the kitchen. Y/N must be there. 

The younger guy called for him and he carried him, greeting Shin a good morning, “Where is mommy?” He pointed at the kitchen that made Yuta confirm his thoughts. His wife was standing in front of the stove, cooking pancakes. 

He put Shin down on the table, holding the edge of his shirt to prevent him from falling. “Good morning.” He greeted and she hummed when he kissed the top of her head. “How are you feeling?” His free right hand went to her belly, rubbing the growing stomach. She’s starting to show. 

“I’m fine. Surprisingly, there was no morning sickness unlike Shiho and Shin’s.” He smiled, nodding. “Can you check up on Shiho?” 

Yuta leaned on the counter, watching as Shin started eating the sliced apples on the table. “Why? What happened to Shiho?” The younger boy handed a piece of an apple to Yuta and he opened his mouth to let the younger one feed him, Shin giggling. 

Y/N turned to the younger boy who was calling her and ate the apple he gave her. “Her classmate is coming today.” 

“Oh,” Yuta nodded. “Are they doing an assignment together?” 

“The teacher calls it a play date.” 

“A what?” Yuta asked, whipping his head to his wife. Did he hear her correctly? 

Y/N flipped the pancakes on the pan, “It’s an activity for her to socialize with her classmates.” She explained. “Jisoo is nice.” 

It’s fine as long as it’s a girl. Why does the teacher have to call it a play date? 

He almost had a heart attack. 

The doorbell rang and Y/N glanced at him when Shiho shouted, “Jisoo is here!” while running. Yuta breathed hard then carried Shin to welcome their visitor. 

He stopped in his tracks when a young boy, holding flowers, was on the door next to an older woman. The older bowed, “I’m Jisoo’s mom. Thank you for letting Jisoo come over. He was excited about this.” she said with a smile and Yuta just smiled, nodding at her. 

“I got you this. You said you love pink flowers.” The guy said while handing his daughter the bouquet of pink roses. Yuta glanced at Shiho who was all smiles at the flower. He was still holding one bouquet of white roses when Shiho asked him to get inside and bid farewell to his mom. 

When the door closed, Yuta just gave his daughter a curious look. “Daddy, he’s my classmate Lee Jisoo. He’s my dad.” She introduced, “And my brother, Shin.” 

“Your dad looks different than when he’s on the TV. My noona is a fan of him.” the younger boy claimed and Shiho nodded. “He looks cooler on TV.”  

Wait, this is a dream, right? His daughter wouldn’t possibly bring a boy into their house. “Hi, Jisoo.” He heard his wife call from behind him and the younger boy handed her the bouquet of white roses. “Thank you. I’m sorry but did your mom already leave?” The younger boy nodded. “Oh, then did you eat breakfast already?” 

Yes, this might be a dream.

Even on the dining table, the young guy kept on talking to his daughter who was all smiles. ”Wow, Shiho’s mom, this is the best pancake I ever had.” Jisoo exclaimed that made Y/N giggle, thanking him for the compliment. 

“Mom is the best in everything. When I grow up, I will be just like her.” Shiho boasted. 

The younger guy smiled, “I’m pretty sure you will be.” 

Yuta slammed the table that made everyone look at him. “What’s wrong?” Y/N asked and Yuta just shook his head. 

He just wanted to wake himself up.  

“Daddy, can you open this for me,” Shiho reached out for her Capri Sun and straw that made Yuta look at it in confusion. How will he open it? This is the first time that he encountered this juice drink. He turned the juice around then poked the straw, which made Shiho complain. 

Jisoo poked his straw on the juice with ease, handing it to Shiho. “You can have mine.” He took the juice that Yuta offered. 

God, can he just wake up now? 

When they finished eating, the three children went to the living room. Y/N helped Yuta who was washing the dishes, “Are you alright?” she asked, leaning on the counter the same way Yuta did earlier.

“Can you pinch me? I want to wake up.” Instead, she bit his arm that made Yuta yelp. “Fuck, I am awake.” The girl giggled. “Are you alright with Shiho bringing a guy over?” 

Again, Y/N laughed. “Yuta, it’s not like our daughter is getting married. Can you calm down?” 

“I can’t.” Water welled on the corner of his eyes as he breathed hard. “She’s on this date with a guy. How can I even calm down?” The girl smiled fondly, reaching out to him to give him a hug. Yuta buried his face on her shoulder, little sniffles coming out his lips. “Soon she’s going to have a family of her own and she won't need me anymore.” Y/N brushed his hair, caressing his back. “I can’t even open that fucking Capri Sun.”  

Y/N giggled which made Yuta wrap his arms around her, hugging her tight. “Are you actually laughing right now?” 

“No, I’m sorry,” she said with a laugh. “Does that bother you? The Capri Sun?” 

Yuta glared at her teasing tone. “Yuta, Shiho is growing up. We have to accept that. She’s not the little girl who would run while playing lion with you.” Yuta pouted. “She’s not the little girl who would get excited about kissy monsters anymore.” Yuta nodded. 

Lately, Shiho had been hating all the affection. 

She’s not even a teenager yet, for crying out loud. 

“But she’s still your daughter. Just like I’m still my dad’s daughter.” She stated logically. “I mean, I already have my own family. I have you. But when I’m in pain, I’m still looking for my dad.” She held his cheeks. The warmth of her hands calmed him down. “And I’m sure Shiho will be the same. She’ll need you in the future. She’s your daughter forever, you know?” 

“Daddy,” Shiho called which made Yuta hastily wipe his tears. “Are you crying?” 

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “Soapsuds just came in daddy’s eyes.” Yuta shoots her a thankful look. “Why? Do you need anything?” 

“We’re missing one person for our tea party,” she claimed that made Y/N nod. “And since mommy doesn’t like tea, can you join us, daddy?” 

He nodded and the younger girl cheered, claiming that she’ll wait for him. Y/N giggled when Shiho went out of the dining area, “When I said that she’ll need you in the future, I didn’t expect that it was a tea party.” 

Yuta wrapped his arms around her, “I really don’t know what to do without you, Y/N.” He kissed her forehead which made her smile. “Go, make your daughter happy.” 

He lightly glanced at the two younger boys seated on both his sides on the blanket while drinking the tea that Shiho made. The younger girl's eyes were on him and he took a sip, surprised at how it tasted. Y/N doesn't like tea, it's not possible that Shiho learned it from her. "This tastes better than what my noona does." Yuta glared at the boy next to him. 

He’s so good with his words. He might grow up as a player. 

He’s sure he should protect Shiho from this boy. 

“I learned it while watching videos,” she claimed with a smile then stared at him. “Did you like it, daddy?” 

Yuta nodded, smiling. His wife is right, she’s indeed growing up. She’s learning new things and doing amazingly at it. “I’ll get you more tea when we go to the supermarket.” The younger girl cheered and he giggled. 

He should feel proud that his daughter is growing up into a fine lady, not sad about it.

It was late afternoon when his mom picked Jisoo up and it was Yuta who even invited him and his noona and hyung to visit their house once. Y/N only gave him a proud look during dinner while he feed Shin. “Mommy, daddy, thank you for today. I’m glad to play with Jisoo.” Shiho said with a smile. 

Y/N smiled, scooping some ice cream in her cup. “Do you like Jisoo?” 

Shiho nodded that made Yuta glare at the two girls. “He’s my friend.” 

“That’s right. Just like him because he’s a friend.” Yuta claimed feeding Shin ice cream. “Not as a boyfriend. He’s a player.” The younger girl laughed. “What’s so funny, young lady?” 

“I can’t like him as a boyfriend. Mommy said I should wait for someone like you as a boyfriend.” Y/N nodded, handing the ice cream to the younger. “A guy who would love me the most in the world.” Yuta smiled.   

“A guy who would defeat your dad in loving you.” The older claimed and Shiho agreed. 

At least they’re clear about that. 

------

Yuta was in the bath when he heard the door of their room open followed by Shiho’s voice saying, “Can I sleep with you and daddy tonight?” 

“Do you want to sleep beside me or daddy?” 

“Daddy,” Shiho claimed that made the smile appear on his lips. The sound of the bed and Shin’s giggles can only be heard while he wiped his hair dry. Yuta was brushing his teeth when he heard Shiho saying, “Mommy, can we buy some new things for the baby?” His wife hummed. “I don’t want the baby to feel that we don’t love him or her.” 

Yuta saw how his wife gave Shiho, who was rubbing her stomach, a questioning look. “Jisoo said he was jealous because Shin and I have new toys. He doesn’t get new toys or things because he has an older brother and sisters.” She explained then placed a kiss on Y/N’s stomach, Shin copying his sister. “I don’t want our baby to feel that.”

“Our baby is going to have an amazing older sister and older brother. I don’t think the baby won’t feel loved.” The older girl claimed, making Shiho nod. “But just to be sure, mommy and daddy will do our best to give our baby new toys and things, same as you and Shin.”

Shiho grinned and the older smiled, making Yuta giggle. “You look alike.” They both just grinned at each other. “Since everyone is here…” he started. 

“Kissy monsters time!” Shiho and Shin both exclaimed while laughing.   

----

Yuta woke up in the middle of the night, pulling the blanket to cover both Shiho and Shin who were sleeping in between him and Y/N. When he glanced at his wife, she was not in bed. Is she outside? But it’s already late. 

He exited the bedroom, careful not to make a sound then spotted his wife seated on the couch drinking a glass of milk. “Hey, you can’t sleep?” He asked, sitting beside her on the couch and wrapping his arm around her waist. Y/N immediately hugged him. “Are you alright? How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine,” she whispered but the strain in her voice gave her away. Yuta looked at her in worry and with the limited light from the window, he saw how she had tears in her eyes. “Why are you crying? Is there something wrong?” 

She sobbed on his chest and he caressed her back, the same way she did to him earlier. Why is this day so dramatic? “I just can’t believe Shiho is already a grown-up.” He laughed. So Shiho is also the reason. “She thinks like an adult now. I’m not ready to send her to college.” 

Yuta giggled. “Didn’t you say it earlier? That she’s not the same girl who would play lion with me.” He laughed. “She’s not the same girl who will pack her clothes because a new baby is coming to the house.” Y/N laughed at the memory. “She’s growing up really well.” 

The girl nodded, pouting. Yuta kissed her lips. “And it was all thanks to you, Y/N.” She stared at him in surprise. “You take care of her so well and you’re such a great role model for her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she grows up the same as you.” Yuta held both her cheeks, smiling warmly at her. “And I will be God damn proud if that happens because I’m sure our daughter would be amazing and be loved.”

“I couldn’t even do this without you so I cannot take all the credit in taking care of Shiho.” 

Yuta smiled. “I think we’re just great parents together.” Y/N giggled, cuddling on his body again. “I’ll work harder for us to buy the baby new things so Shiho won't worry.” He rubbed her shoulder, smiling to himself. “Thank you for taking care of our children, Y/N. I don’t even know how to repay you for everything you’re doing for our family.”

“Stop it! You know pregnant women are easily emotional.” Yuta giggled. “You’re already doing so much for us as well. I wouldn’t have any better husband but you.”

“You better be.” 

“Love,” she called which made him raise an eyebrow. She doesn’t like pet names. Is this another craving? “Can you do the groceries with Shin tomorrow? I want to hang out with Shiho.” 

Yuta grinned, nodding. “Groceries. Got it!”

—--

When Y/N and Shiho went home after the doctor’s visit, Shin was handing a pack of Capri Sun to his older sister and she took it with surprise on her face. “Don’t tell me…” Y/N started then walked briskly to the kitchen. The two girls were surprised when there were packs and boxes of Capri Sun on the counter. 

“Shin!” Then Yuta stopped seeing the two girls staring at him in curiosity. “Oh, you’re home.” Yuta took one pack and started poking it with the straw. “Look, I can open a juice pack now.” 

Y/N sighed and Shiho giggled, taking one opened juice pack and disappearing with her brother to her room. “What?” Yuta asked the still staring pregnant woman. “I can open a Capri Sun now.”

Y/N shook her head, breathing hard. “Good job, honey.” She said then kissed his cheek. She tapped his shoulder then whispered, “Now, you do realize that you have to drink all of this right?”   

The horror on Yuta’s face says it all. He’ll probably get sick of this juice. Then Shin and Shiho will as well. His new skill will be put to no use. Curse this insecurity of his. 

Yuta smirked. He didn’t care that he’ll get sick of the juice drink. On the brighter note, Shiho wouldn’t have to depend at any other guy just to open her Capri Sun.  

That’s the most important part. 

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Mission Shenanigans

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings | smut, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Word count | 2385

Summary | while on a mission undercover, you and Bucky are forced to share a bed. Very dirty things ensue

Masterlist

"If we're just pretending to be a couple, why do we have to actually sleep in the same bed? Do you really think they're going to break in and catch on of us sleeping on the sofa?" You scoffed, hands perched on your hips and as shook your head at the super soldier in front of you.

"Maybe." Bucky smirked, his answer short but almost full of a lingering promise of more. You rolled your eyes at him, itching to slap that cocky smirk off his face and also maybe accidentally let his cock slip into your mouth whilst doing so. Oops.

You couldn't help it, really. I mean, Bucky is gorgeous. He truly is a specimen, all muscles and cocky smirks and metal arms. Oh and the metal arm? You were dying to know how the metal felt against your skin, against your lips - your lower lips-

"You there doll?" You were grabbed from your little train of thoughts (sinful thoughts at that) by the man in front of you snapping his fingers in your face.

"S-sorry. Lost in thought. What were you saying?" You stuttered, cheeks flushing pink as you averted your gaze to a vase on the table that suddenly became awfully captivating.

"I said that we should go out and get some wood for the fire before it gets dark." Bucky drawled, rolling his eyes now when you hummed in agreement whilst nodding absent-mindedly.

You were on a mission to get some info on a potential lead on a rising HYDRA group in southern France. You were in a cabin like area near some forest that almost seemed out of place, posing as a young couple that was newly wed and wanted a honey moon abroad. So far you pulled off the part perfectly, playing the most stereotypically-American tourists in Europe you could be. You got overly excited at the smallest things, told everyone you spoke to that you adored their accent, insisted on eating at French restaurants only, and local ones of course.

It was the perfect ploy - the only downfall being Bucky's metal arm causing him to stick out like a sore-thumb. So the super soldier has been miserable in public, roasting in the summer sun whilst clad in leather gloves and long-sleeve shirts.

What you had failed to mention to him that the sight of droplets of sweat collecting along his brow and sliding slowly down his neck got you all hot and bothered. So hot and bothered, in fact, that you found yourself desperate to stick your hand between your legs to quell the growing ache blossoming there.

But you couldn't because Bucky was insisting that you both share a bed. Originally, you had just planned on taking the sofa in the other room and get yourself off but that plans obviously gone out the window.

"Right, well. We should go now." Bucky said, cutting through the awkward silence that had settled comfortably between you two. He grabbed your arm, tugging you out the small cabin and towards the woods.

So, three hours later, you found yourself full of food, groaning with the amount to had consumed. Chewing your last bite, you set your cutlery down on you plate, which was almost immediately swiped by Bucky.

"With cooking like that, you've just become my most dangerous friend, Barnes." You chided, a smile finding your face when he chuckled softly, the edges of his eyes crinkling adorably. He set your plate with his in the sink, turning on the water and drizzling some dish soap into the basin. He sipped his hands quickly on a towel before discarding it on the work surface and turning to face you.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it, doll." He smiled, arms crossing over his chest. With the hot summer heat, he'd changed into a tank top almost the second you entered the cabin, so his bulging bicep was on display as well as that metal arm that you adored. His hair was thrown into a bun at the back of his head, a few framing pieces fallen out around his face and it made him look beautiful.

"I'm gonna go shower whilst you clean up." You suddenly announced, pushing up from your chair and bursting from the room. You walked swiftly down the hall, into the bedroom to grab a towel before you were entering the adjoining bathroom.

You moaned as the warm water soothed your aching muscles, the steam clouding up the bathroom as you hummed the song that'd been stuck in your head for god knows how long. Taking a deep sigh, you massaged the shampoo into your hair, the feeling of your nails scraping against your scalp a welcome one.

After washing the suds from your hair and wiping down your body with a sponge and some lemon scented soap, you shut the water off and pulled back the curtain of the shower. Careful not to trip as you stepped out of the tub, you grabbed the fluffy white towel sat waiting for you on the counter and patted your hair until it was only damp, before drying off your body. You wrapped the cloth around you, holding it up just above your breast, clutching it there so I didn't fall down as you tiptoed back into the bedroom.

The door whined is I opened, the handle banging against the wall as you crept into the room.

"Hey, doll." Bucky smirked, lounging on the bed and resting in his palms. Your eyes bugged out of your skull, you jumped slightly, the shock of seeing him there shirtless and with sweatpants handing loose over his hips caused your grip on the towel to stop long enough for it to fall. Bucky smoothed his tongue of his lip, biting down on it as his eyes roamed your body.

You were still in shock, not moving from where you stood, towel bundled at your feet and arms awkwardly by your sides. Bucky whistled, slowly standing and taking a few strides so he was stood in front of you.

"You look even better than I thought you would." He mumbled, licking his lips again before his hands found purchase on your hips. His eyes were searching you, blue edges fading as black lust petered out from his pupils. Your breathing was heavy, mind foggy but all you could comprehend was the half-naked super soldier stood in front of your naked form, hands - one comfortingly warm one chillingly cold - resting on the bare skin of your hips.

And I just made you needy and slick with want. And that had to be the cause of the words that found themselves upon your lips. Your eyes flickered between his and his lips - his soft, plump pink lips - that were just begging you to kiss them.

"If you don't kiss me in the next three second I'm going to scream." You murmured and he breathed a laugh through his nose before his lips crashed to yours in a lustful, earth-shattering kiss. Bucky's hands travelled over your sides, squeezing your waist before going higher until one wrapped around your neck possessively, using the grip he had to walk you back until your back came into contact with the door you had entered from, his metal hand bracing against the wood for support.

Your moan let him know it was exactly what you wanted and Bucky tightened his grip slightly on your neck, a gentle squeeze to test the waters that had you groaning against his lips. He tilted his head to the side, feeling the kiss even further. It was a dirty, messy, sloppy thing - all teeth and tongue and unadulterated desire. When his lips finally left yours, they trailed down your neck, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses over your throat and your collar bone. A hand found it's way between your quaking legs, finding nothing by slick and slippery skin as the tips brushed through the collecting wetness at the apex of your thighs. He groaned at the feeling, letting his digits dance through the liquid before one was slipping into your quivering hole.

"Bucky!" You gasped, hands reaching up, grabbing and clawing at his shoulders for purchase as his thumb connected with your little bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked violently into his hand, a low and rumbling chuckle falling from those perfect, pink lips. Another finger entered you, both of them curling - curling just right, hitting that spot deep within you.

You came with a  cry and shaky legs, your body falling limply into Bucky's as he retracted his fingers, revelling in the wanton look in your eyes as he licked them clean.

"Delicious." He hummed, pulling off his fingers with a pop. Before you could protest, the brunet had scooped you into his arms, hoisting up up with his hands under your ass - groping and squeezing as he pinned you to the wall with his hips. Your arms were wrapped around his neck by now, fingers tangling into his long, brown hair as his lips never left your skin.

"Fuck, Bucky, please." You begged, but you weren't really sure what you were asking for.

"You want me to fuck you?" He whispered in your ear, a moan slipping past your lips. "You want me to fuck you in the middle of a mission like a whore?" He husked and you moaned even louder - knowing the word should offend you but it did anything but, the combined sensation of his hot breath fanning over your cheeks, his prominent bulge pressed to your folds and his hands resting on your bare sides overwhelming your senses. His hands moved down, fumbling with the drawstring on his sweats before he was pulling away slightly, pushing them and his boxers down his legs eagerly. You brought a hand down too, letting your fingers trail over his abs before you were marvelling at his cock - hard and leaking, red tip curved up against his stomach - which was now smeared with Previn that you were desperate to lick off. But he wouldn't let you from his grasp.

Instead, you both let out a moan when your small hand wrapped around Bucky's cock, Bucky shivering slightly at the coldness of you palm. He kissed you again hard, tongue smoothing over your lips before it was pushing its way into your mouth, tangling with yours and stroking over the muscle in languid strokes. You fisted his hair, relishing in the groan he let out as you tugged. You smiled into the kiss at his reaction, but pulled away to squeal his thumb flitted over your clit again.

Bucky moaned when his tip ran through your wetness, hand wrapping around his length as he lined himself up with your core. Bucky leant in, pecking your lips.

"Ready?" He mumbled and you moaned his name, letting out a loud moan when he sheathed himself inside of you in one sharp thrust.

"Fuck, Bucky!" You moaned and he let his thumb rest on your clit, teasing circles rubbed over it making the knot in your stomach forms already, blue eyes now turned black as he looked into yours.

"I want you to come around my cock, pretty girl" He murmured, forehead resting against your as he begun to thrust. Your hands clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin only spurring Bucky on as his pace became slow but strong, knocking the air out of your lungs with every thrust. His breath was hot on your cheeks, eyes keeping yours prisoner and a small layer of sweat coated your faces.

The whole scene was erotic, so it only pushed your further to the edge when he began moaning and groaning, your own sounds vibrating around the room. Your fingers traced over the scars littering his shoulder, before clinging to the cool metal and moaning out at the contrast against your flushed and hot skin.

"Good girl." He moaned, the praise sending a new wave of wetness tumbling down to your core, his cock pushing in and out of you effortlessly now with how much lubrication you were supplying. Bucky's hand moved from the door, fingers wrapping a round your throat again and pushing your head back against the wood.

"This pussy's gonna make me cum so hard, sweetheart, so fuckin' hard." He mumbled into the skin of your neck, dropping his head to nip and suck at your jaw line. You knew there'd be marks there tomorrow, but you couldn't care less in that moment as your walls began to clamp down on his in a vice grip.

"C'mon, cum for me. I can feel how close you are." Bucky moaned and your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, eyes rolling back into your skull, his pace picking up as he tried to push you to your release.

When you came it was a mind-shattering orgasm, eyes rolling back and hips bucking, stomach tight and legs shaking around his waist.

"There we go, good girl." Bucky groaned, chasing his own release now as he used you for his own pleasure. "Shit, y/n." He moaned, stilling his hips as a final thrust sent him over the edge, cumming in you in hot spurts.

Your breaths mingled, the smell of sex invading your senses as you head dropped forward to lean against Bucky's shoulder.

"Fucking hell, Buck, that was-" you panted.

"Amazing? The best sex of your life?" He supplied, hand massaging your hip as you both calmed down.

"Something like that." You giggled. He chuckled too, and you gasped as he felt him thrust shallowly into you again. How was he already hard again? You figured that the serum must have affected everything. You groaned, and Bucky smirked down at you.

"Ready for round two?" He asked, walking with you in his grasp over to the bed.

"If anyone does break in tonight, they're in for one hell of a show." You smiled weakly, Bucky dropping you into the sheets and crawling over you.

"They sure are, Doll."