#but since I’m out of weed and incredibly broke

[rosicheeks]

😓

[rhysazriel]

Smoke & Light: Part 2 [Plug!Az]

SUMMARY: Azriel hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, and when you agree to smoke with him and go for a drive, truths aren’t the only things that are shared. (6.6k)

WARNINGS: lots to unpack tbh, so let’s start with swearing, (male) masturbation, teasing, flirting, kissing (!!!!!), mentions of abusive families, reoccurring themes of use of recreational drugs (weed), Az driving while smoking/stoned (I do not condone that so please do not do that in real life!!)

A/N: firstly, thank you so incredibly much for all of the love on part one, I’m so excited to share what I have planned for this series!! This part is longer than the first, so maybe grab a drink and a snack hehe

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Why don’t we give the brownies idea a try?”

Azriel’s head felt like it may explode. For the past two hours, he’d been stuck in a discussion between his brothers regarding new ideas for new products to sell. And while Az and Rhys had no ideas to suggest (all agreeing cocaine, molly and ket were not up for discussion), Cassian was still hellbent on making weed brownies—despite knowing not a damn thing about baking. 

“Cass,” Rhys sighed, pinching sharply at the bridge of his nose. Azriel was going to lose his shit, he couldn’t go through this again—for a fifth fucking time. “We literally spoke about this last week! None of us know how to bake!” 

Cassian paid no mind to Rhysand’s clear frustrations with him and scoffed as he threw his head back on the couch. “It can’t be that fucking hard.” 

“Then by all means, buy your own shit and burn it while you try and figure it out.” 

Azriel blinked, looking between the pair. He’d barely said a word, too worried he may get a bit too heated. Cassian got like this sometimes—most of the time—and more often than not, Az got the idea he only did it to get a reaction out of Rhys, who had very little patience when it came to him.

Someone had to play mediator and devil’s advocate in every situation, and somehow, even since they were teens, that role always landed on Azriel’s shoulders. 

Deciding enough was enough, he leant forward and peered between them both. “As much as edibles would help out sales, Rhys is right,” Cassian snickered at him, “It’s not a good idea right now. Not when we have no clue what we’re doing, and especially not when we’re having problems with our supplier right now.”

It was silent in the room for a moment, for the first time in an hour. And after a few minutes passed and no one spoke, Rhys stood from the couch with a sigh. “I’ve gotta get going to the parlour. All my sketches are there and I’ve got a long day and a huge back piece to tattoo tomorrow.” 

He clapped a hand against both Az and Cassian’s shoulders before bidding them a goodbye and leaving. Cassian remained sulking on the couch, thick and toned arms crossed on his chest with an unsatisfied scowl on his face. Azriel took purchase on the coffee table in front of him, lips pursed to suppress his amusement.

Cassian often got like this if he was told no or something didn’t go his way. When they were younger, Azriel used to roll his eyes and tell him to get over it. But now, in their mid-twenties and Cassian sharing a striking resemblance to that hunky character from that one Disney movie, Azriel found his sulking the best form of entertainment. 

“Are you not working tonight?” Az broke the silence with a lighthearted question. As much as he found his brothers face amusing, he didn’t really have the energy to deal with it all fucking night. He had shit to do, people to see. And he didn’t particularly want to bring Cassian along to his drop off’s—not when Cass scared the shit out of most people. 

“Club’s closed, waiting for Nes to finish. Staying at hers tonight,” he mumbled.

Relief was quick to flow through Azriel’s blood as he let out a breath. His phone chimed from his back pocket as he said, “Tell her I say hi,” and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of Cassian’s mouth.

Az and Nesta had a decent friendship, he was closer to her than he was Feyre, but maybe that was because Nesta didn’t tiptoe around Az like most other people did. Maybe that was why he liked you so much. You didn’t shy under his gaze, and you didn’t treat him differently after noticing his scarred hands. 

Yes, he saw you watching, inspecting with hurt and curious eyes. But you didn’t say anything so neither did he. And when you purposely brushed your skin against his when you took that bag of bud, he knew you’d done it out of silent reassurance. 

And yet, he hadn’t heard from you since you met three days ago. Not that he expected you to message so soon, not after you said the 3.5 would last around two weeks, but he still felt that deep disappointment whenever he checked his phone and your name wasn’t the one to have messaged him. 

He needed to get a grip on himself, really. But you were different. So different from anyone he’d ever met or known before. You didn’t play up to any facade, you didn’t hesitate to tease him back. You were honest, painfully so when you admitted you were clueless, but that only made him find you even more endearing. 

“What about you?” Cassian’s voice drilled into his ears, abruptly pulling Azriel away from the memory of you. He quickly typed back a reply to a client that he could drop off within the hour and shoved his phone back in his pocket. 

“What about me?” Az asked. 

“Any plans?” 

Azriel shrugged, elbows leaning on his spread thighs and the oak coffee table creaked beneath his firm weight. “I’ve got a few deals to do, but that’s about it.”

Cass nodded, finally unfolding his arms and letting them drop to his sides. “Well, you know where I’ll be if you wanna come by, Nes would be happy to see you.”

Azriel raised a brow. “I saw her two days ago.”

His brother gave him a look, one that suggested ‘yeah, I know, but you’re like her best friend and she loves you to literal death’, and that was that. 

Cass left soon after, picking Nesta up from work and leaving Azriel home alone for what seemed like the thousandth night in a row. He didn’t mind it, not really. He enjoyed his own company and when Cass stayed at Nesta’s and Rhys stayed at Feyre’s, it meant Az could play around with new melodies and not be scolded for playing guitar at 4 a.m. and waking everybody up. 

Having the apartment to himself was a win-win for everyone involved. 

Only tonight, he didn’t want to sit and play with new sounds and rhythms. Not when his mind was completely distracted by you. By your smile, your eyes, by that sensual voice of yours that he hadn’t stopped replaying in his memory for the past three days. 

It wouldn’t hurt to send just one text, right? Just the one, just to check in on how you were finding the bud. As if you hadn't smoked it before they met. 

He shouldn’t. This wasn’t what he did—he didn’t chase after girls, he never had, and he most certainly did not get hooked—especially not on someone he’d known for three days. 

And yet, despite that, Azriel found himself on your messages, hovering his fingers over the keyboard and typing out a quick text and sending it before he could even think about it. 

Azriel: how’s the bud?

But it wasn’t his lack of thinking before sending the message that had his jaw slack, no. It was the fact that as soon as the message travelled from the box to the messaging thread, you had already opened it. Like you were already on the chat. Perhaps debating your own text to him. 

Those grey bubbles appeared at the bottom of the screen and Azriel made quick work to click out of the conversation. His heart should not have been stammering in his chest the way it was, he should not have felt so anxious about what you may think if he read your text as quickly as you read his. 

You: very good. And you were right. 7 joints! 

And then, another.

You: I may need a top up sooner than i thought, if that’s ok?

Azriel: what happened to it lasting you 2 weeks?? Nah, that’s fine. Did you wanna meet up tonight?

You: would that be ok?

Azriel: yes. Old tower in 20?

You: life saver <3 see u then!

He tried his damned hardest not to stare at the little heart you sent him, tried his best not to picture you thinking about texting him to meet up again. But all he tried, it didn’t work and a smirk began to tug at the corners of his mouth. 

//

His Ford Mustang parked outside the Old Tower fifteen minutes later, the engine still humming softly and his eyes flitted between the rearview mirror and his view in front of him, trying to gauge which way you’d come from. 

He didn’t expect for you to come out of the shadows in a third direction, one in the wake of the passengers side, and he didn’t realise until the door opened and you slid your body inside his car, shutting the door behind you. 

“Hi,” you turned to him with a beaming smile—eyes gently blazed with a moody pink hue. 

Azriel drank you in. Your hair was down today in what he presumed was your natural waves, face bare of makeup save for the sheen of pinky lip gloss that coated your mouth. You wore an oversized cropped olive cardigan; the large buttons done up just enough to offer a slither of a peek of the white bralette you wore beneath, and a pair of straight-legged black cargos. 

Gods, you looked even better than he remembered, but Azriel wasn’t naive to your staring either. Your eyes caught notice of his thick, muscled arms. They weren’t hidden beneath a jacket this time. No. They bulged from the black t-shirt he wore, and his brown skin was etched in intricate swirls and shapes and designs in black ink. 

You gulped, visibly so. Tattoos had always been an immediate attraction for you—not that Brandon ever had any—but the sight of Azriels and the one that hid beneath the sleeve of his top and curled up and around his neck… Gods, your throat felt extremely dry.

And Azriel noticed everything. 

“I thought you said you didn’t smoke much?” 

Your eyes finally snapped to his hazel ones and warmth coated your cheeks and chest. You cleared your throat, blinking a few times to regain some sense of composure. “I don’t,” you retorted. “Girls night. And it was my turn to host.” 

Azriel tried not to think too deeply into the idea of you having a night at home with your girlfriends, stoned and warm and cosy and all inhibitions thrown out the window. He wondered if those were the types of things you did with your friends. He’d been with a few before that did. 

He looked away as soon as he felt that familiar tightening in his jeans. “So, you want another 3.5?” He cleared his throat, lifting the compartment between your seats. 

You hummed, eyes following his movements. Your gaze lingered on his biceps for a moment, trailing down to the veins that protruded from his smooth skin. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. Oftentimes than not, you found yourself horny and riled up when under the influence, but never like this. Never so strongly at the sight of two veiny, tattooed arms. 

“Um, yeah… please.” You finally spoke. “I promise it’ll last me longer than three days this time.”

Azriel prayed to the fucking mother above that it didn’t. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he retrieved a 3.5 baggie and handed it to you, closing the compartment again and the second he opened his mouth to speak, you were already grabbing a marred hand and shoving two twenty’s into it before forcing his fist closed. 

Perhaps it was the buzz of the joint you smoked on your way, or perhaps it was the pure arousal you felt at the sight of him and the feel of his hand in yours that gave you a surge of confidence. Whatever it was, it had you saying, “Pretty clients might get a discount from you, but incredibly attractive, tattooed plugs get full pay from me.”

Azriel was stunned for a moment, by both your boldness and the shameless compliment. His mouth blubbered open, a retort just as flirty as yours on the tip of his tongue when the sound of his ringtone blaring through the car’s bluetooth speaker cut him off. 

He disconnected the call a bit too quickly, an amused smile teetering on the curves of your already twisted lips. Azriel paid no mind to his own actions, instead turning back to you with a fire in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. 

His lips parted in another attempt to speak when that gods-dammed phone interrupted him for a second time and you could no longer hold your laughter. Azriel decided there and then that the next time he saw you, he’d make sure he heard that sweetness again. 

You didn’t give him time to cut the call off again. Instead, you reached for the door handle and offered a grateful smile. “I’ll text you when I’m out.”

His senses were too on overdrive. Too torn between wanting to stop you, even if to spend a few more moments in your presence, and the deafening sound of his fucking phone. But you’d exited the car and closed the door behind you before he could do anything about it. The cash was still stuffed in his warm hands and the incoming call continued to make his ears bleed. 

“What?” Azriel seethed the second he answered the call. It was silent for a moment, the caller caught off guard by Az’s tone but that only pissed him off further. 

“It’s Brandon,” the line paused for a moment again. “You about?” 

Azriel felt his blood boil. “If I don’t fucking answer the first time, that usually means no.”

He disconnected the call without another word, marred hands now gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He hated the way he was reacting over you—over being interrupted from your presence. But he couldn't help it. Couldn’t get the thought out of his head of how sweet your lips probably tasted with that gloss. And without it. 

Azriel’s chest heaved slightly, that all too familiar sense of arousal tightening in his pants. He couldn’t stand this, couldn't understand how a tiny slip of your bralette could have his mind and body reacting like this. How a subtle smirk and a sultry gaze could have him ready to blow a load in his pants. 

Christ, he needed to sort himself out. Absent-mindedly, Azriel snuck a hand between his thighs, large scarred hand palming at his length through the fabrics. His breathing turned quicker, his moments growing needier. If he didn’t sort himself out soon he’d been in agony. 

With one hand on the wheel, he forced himself to drive—only for a moment or two until his Mustang was parked idly between two buildings and switched off the engine to not draw too much attention to himself. 

He was above this—above getting himself off semi-publicly. But he couldn’t fucking help it. He didn’t care how shameful and icky he might’ve felt afterwards, not when he was so desperate. 

As soon as the car was covered in shadows of darkness, he unclasped his seatbelt and unpopped the buttons of his jeans. He didn’t bother to pull them down, only releasing the zip and reaching into his boxers to tug his length free. 

The second he felt his skin on him, he shuddered. His slender fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, offering himself a teasing squeeze as he slowly moved. Azriel didn’t need lube or lotion—not when pearly beads of semi-translucent arousal leaked from his pink, ruddy tip. He smoothed it down his length, mewling at the contact he rewarded himself. 

And all he could think about was you. 

Your eyes, your lips, your voice.

He let his mind wander to sinful images of what may lay hidden beneath your clothes—beneath that little white bralette. Azriel quickened his pace as his eyes fluttered closed, the back of his head hitting the headrest. He throbbed in his hand, a gruff moan tearing from his throat. 

Azriel could picture you clearly in his head; on your knees in the footwell, your dainty hands around his cock as your lips kissed and sucked him. His hand in your hair, bobbing you on his length, watching your eyes water from the size of him as he hit the back of your throat. 

His breathing grew ragged, filthy images of your choking on his cock filling his brain, clouding his sensing and coaxing a release out of him. Azriel didn’t think he’d ever come so quickly before in his life, but the idea of you looking up at him with sultry eyes through thick lashes had him spurting warm ribbons of cum into his hand as he cupped his head to minimise the mess. A desperate attempt to replicate what he imagined the warmth of your mouth would feel like. 

As his breathing began to even out, the post-nut clarity hit him like a ton of fucking bricks. Shame boiled in his blood, a tint of pink embarrassment painted on his cheeks as if the shadows judged him, too. The idea of seeing you again while knowing what he’d done to the thought of you… it made his insides churn slightly. 

But more than that, it made his cock leap again in anticipation of soon being in your presence once more. 

//

“Az, what do you say? Up for a double date?” 

Feyre couldn’t hide her smile, unable to keep her emotions in check when it came to her attempts to set Azriel up. But the instant disappearance of his smile wasn’t missed on her. Nor was the way his shoulders tensed slightly. 

He sighed. “Fey, as much as I appreciate your concern for my love life, I don’t need to be set up.”

She pouted at him. Despite that always being his answer, she still held a shred of hope every time she suggested it. Even if he never changed his mind, she was willing to continuously try, even if he did find it annoying. Even if she didn’t tell him until the very last minute. 

“Who’s the lucky girl then, Az?” Nesta piped up with a wide grin from her seat in the couch, tucked closely into Cassian’s side who paid no mind to the conversation at hand. 

He rolled his eyes at her. “There is no girl.” 

“Guy, then.” Nesta scoffed, waving a hand. 

Azriel didn’t want to entertain this conversation, especially not because it had somehow brought his mind back to you. Something he’d been so desperately trying to avoid. 

Though, he supposed it was inevitable. He would be seeing you again at some point and then he’d be stuck right back where he started. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why he was doing this to himself— why he didn’t allow himself to pursue you if that was what he truly wanted. 

His phone chimed from his pocket. 

In hindsight, it was probably a good thing that Azriel didn’t hear from you for two weeks. It gave him ample time to attempt to get his hormones in check, but it didn’t stop his blood from warming everytime he received a notification. Each time, he was left with slight disappointment to find it was just another client. 

Until today. Until now. Where your name was in fact the one on his lockscreen and all of that forgetting and willing to get you out of his mind faltered. 

You: Hey, are you free later?

Azriel: I'm free all night.

When you didn’t respond, Azriel assumed you were looking for a more direct answer. So he sent another text. 

Azriel: old tower in an hour good for you?

You: see you then.

He couldn’t help the frown that furrowed in his brows at your reply. Given, your only communication was mainly through text, and perhaps he was looking too much into it, but you didn't seem yourself. And that thought shouldn’t have irked him as much as it did. 

He barely bid anyone a goodbye, throwing a mumbled ‘see you later’ as he grabbed his shit and left. 

His first stop was to Sean, a lean Asian guy that had been buying off Azriel for two years now. He was decent enough, never tried to haggle or complain about the prices. They shared a mutual respect and minimal words were shared when Az handed him a Q and Sean gave 140 in one swift motion. 

And just like that, Azirel moved onto the next.

And then another. 

And another. 

Until he was waiting at the Old Tower and watching your silhouette approach the Mustang. You entered the car just like you always had done, though you didn’t meet his gaze this time. Instead, you kept your line of view ahead. Your hair obstructed the side of your face, effectively shielding you from his prying eyes. 

“Sorry I’m a little late.” 

Azriel absolutely did not like the quake in your voice as you spoke, nor did he like the way you seemed to cower into your body and clothes. Clothes that didn’t seem to match your usual vibe—instead, the mismatched black sweatpants and bright pink puffer jacket gave off the impression you threw on whatever was around you. 

Somehow, Azriel still thought you made it look good. On you, the outfit looked both planned and effortless. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that that wasn’t the case. 

“You good?” he asked through the piercing silence. 

You hummed, twisting the bulky silver ring on your thumb. “Yeah, just tired.” You tried your hardest to offer a convincing smile as you turned to him, but Azriel noticed the way it didn’t meet your eyes—the eyes that appeared slightly bloodshot, though he had a suspicion it wasn’t from smoking.

Not wanting to press on the matter, Az opened the compartment and pulled out a baggie of your usual amount and kept it pinched between two scarred fingers. You reached for it, the cash in your other hand but he kept his grip tight. 

Azriel raised a brow. “You’re sure you’re alright?” 

You could see the concern flood his hazel eyes, and the sight pulled on your aching heartstrings. How could someone who was a virtual stranger care more for you than the ones who were much closer in your life?

You didn’t trust your words, so you nodded and he finally released his hold on the bag. “Alright,” Az sighed. “It’s a different strain than my usual stuff, so go a little lighter with it. It’s pretty strong.” 

You were incredibly thankful for the warning, though you couldn’t help feeling a little offended. Did he really think you were so naive and new to this world that you couldn’t handle a new strain at your usual strength (which, admittedly, was very weak) without greening out? 

But as quickly as that feeling rose, it faded. He was a dealer, afterall, and he couldn’t afford to lose business all because someone thought they knew better and had a bad trip. 

“Thank you,” you muttered out, already reaching for the handle when his ruggedly soft voice stopped you. 

“You wanna smoke before you go? I can drop you back after.” 

You whipped your head to him, blinking through slightly blurred vision. With a brow raised and widened eyes, your lips parted. “Together?”

A smile stretched across his full lips, one so full of charisma and keen interest that it awakened something deep in the pit of your stomach. Something you distinctly remember feeling the last time you saw him. 

“Why not?” 

You swallowed as your hand slowly fell from the handle and made its way back in your lap. Your smile morphed into a smirk that matched his and the air shifted into something unreadable. Something palpable but not quite real. 

“Really? Do you normally smoke with your clients?” 

Azriel’s wicked grin widened. “I do with the cute ones.” 

You choked on a laugh, rolling your head back until it hit the headrest and Azriel didn’t think he’d ever seen or heard anything so fucking beautiful in his life. That laugh would haunt him in his dreams to a blissful paradise. 

“First, I’m pretty. Now I’m cute… what’s next?” 

Damn the rules he set himself. Damn the restrictions he forced when it came to someone who piqued his interest. It was about time Azriel took what he wanted for once. Even if that meant he started with no longer feeling guilty for flirting with you. 

Chewing at the inside of his cheek, Azriel started up the engine and shifted the gearstick. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” 

He tilted his head to the dashboard compartment and you pulled it open. The small warm white light lit the cove, a golden hue casting on a small yellow tin. Throwing a glance to Azriel, he nodded and you pulled it out, closing the compartment and popping open his travel tin. 

It was packed with perfectly rolled joints and blunts. The smell was strong—potent—but you didn’t mind. Not as much as you had before. You picked one random of the bunch and pinched it between two fingers. It was rolled tightly and packed full, a very small twist of paper at the end and you hummed, impressed. 

Of course he could roll perfectly. And you had a feeling just two pulls of one of those would keep you warm and fuzzy for the remainder of the night. 

“There’s a lighter in the cup holder.” Azriel spoke as he pulled out of the space and began to drive further out of the lights of the city. 

You pinched the lighter. Just a simple black one, no funky pattern or engraved initials like most others had. No, Azriel’s was one that came in a pack of five and the other four were somewhere in the car or back at his apartment. 

“We can smoke in here?” you asked softly, that crack in your voice easing. 

Az hummed, taking a right turn. “If you’re comfortable to.”

You waited a moment, eyeing the joint and then him. “You drive when you smoke?” 

He seemed to notice your somewhat apprehension when he nodded again. He turned to you briefly before flicking his eyes back on the road again. “I drive better when I’m stoned. But if you’d prefer, we can park up somewhere.” 

You shook your head, warmth caressing every inch of your body. You didn’t know what it was, but something had overcome you. An overwhelming sense of pure yearning. You could admit when you first met Az that he was attractive, incredibly so. But now? Watching him, speaking with him, smoking with him… oh God’s… you had a fucking crush on your plug. 

“You wanna start it or should I?” Azriel’s voice broke you from your epiphany and you blinked quickly, willing the rising heat to just fuck off and give you a moments reprive. 

“Oh,” you squeaked. “You can, it’s your weed.” 

He didn’t look away from the road, not for a second. With a hand on the wheel and the other shifting gears, he edged his head closer to yours and angled his face just slightly with his lips parted. You were stunned for a moment, realising what he was asking you to do, and you swallowed back that bubbling arousal as you placed the unlit joint to his lips and sparked up a flame, igniting the end.

Az hummed in thanks as he took a long, deep drag. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. He was a fucking sight. Cheeks ever so slightly hollowed and eyes barely squinted as the smoke filled his lungs. 

A scarred hand left the gearstick to reach for the joint, his thumb reaching for the bottom while his forefinger grazed the top and he pulled it away with another fresh intake of breath, settling the drug further. 

You were soaked, you were sure of it. Your previous problems from today were a distant memory as you finally watched him exhale and bring the joint to his lips again for another long pull. 

The sound of the windows opening broke you from your trance and only then did you realise you hadn’t yet put on your seatbelt. You tore your gaze away to clip yourself in and when you turned back, Azriel was offering you the joint. 

With your free hand, you accepted it, the other stuffing the cash in his cup holder with the lighter. You inspected the joint, tried not to let your heart race. You’d only ever smoked with your friends and Brandon. Never with a dealer. Never with someone like Azriel. 

You slotted your pursed lips over the same area Az did, and inhaled as deeply as you could. The burn at the back of your throat was stronger than when you smoked your own joints, and as it filled your lungs you pulled it away and held back a cough that gagged to release from your throat. 

With a shaky exhale, you swallowed around the dryness of your mouth before bringing it back to your lips for another drag. When you pulled it away, the burn wasn’t as bad and you passed it back to Azriel who took another turn on the roads. 

“Where are we going?” You pondered, a certain rasp to your voice from the strength of the joint. 

Azriel took two short pulls and angled the burning end out the window, flicking off the excess ash before offering it to you again. 

“Wherever you want,” he replied. “But first, we should probably get some food for when the munchies kick in.” 

You laughed as you exhaled another breath and handed the joint back to him, waving a hand to signal you were tapping out and did not intend on smoking anymore. Five pulls of that shit was more than enough for you. You could not handle the idea of greening out in his car with him. 

Azriel stifled a laugh and finished off the rest of the joint by the time he pulled into a drive-thru. He placed his order first, turning to you with flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. You blinked a few times, your brain requiring a few moments to catch up with what was happening. 

“I’ll have the same as you.” 

He stifled a laugh as he spoke into the machine, doubling up on his order and driving through to the next window. Azriel paid no mind to you when you attempted to offer him your money—barely even looked at you as he tapped his card against the reader and then reached for the cash in the cup holder, shoving it back in your empty palms. 

“You can keep that, too.”

You knew it wasn’t up for discussion, so you begrudgingly took your cash back and stuffed it into your jacket pocket again. Az stopped in the parking lot, the two of you eating through hushed yet uncontrollable giggles at the people that passed by. 

It was the first time you’d heard his laugh so unrestricted and it spread another shot of warmth through your body. It continued like that for another undisturbed hour, where after the food, Az sparked up another joint and began the drive to your apartment. You’d told him Old Tower was fine, but he wasn’t okay with that. 

“Too many freaks around at this time of night. I’ll drop you to your door. Put your address in the GPS.”

And it wasn’t until the drive back to your apartment that you were reminded of your previous troubles. The ones that caused your teary eyes and sombre mood. The buzz off the night felt like it had dwindled away the second you thought of your situation, and you were left slumped in your seat again, fiddling with your fingers. 

Azriel noticed your change in mood almost immediately as he glanced over to you before flicking his eyes back to the road. He took another drag of the joint. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You pondered his offer for a few moments, weighing out whether or not you should. In the end, what difference would it make? If you divulge your issues or not, it wouldn’t fix them. But perhaps talking about it might help. 

“My sister got married yesterday and no one told me.”

Azriel blinked rapidly, almost spluttering on the breath he exhaled. “What?” 

“Yeah.” 

He waited patiently, eager for some sort of explanation as to how and why something like that was kept from you. But he didn’t know the relationship with your family, he couldn’t presume anything. For all he knew, you had troubles just like his. 

“My family and I didn’t have the best relationship growing up. I was born from a toxic relationship so I was cast aside as a kid, I guess. I thought we were past that, though. I thought things were better.”

That familiar ache sat heavy in Azriel’s chest. He knew all too well the hurt that came from being shunned by your own family. He wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Especially not somebody like you. 

“I’m sorry.” His words held such compassion and sympathy. No pity, just pure understanding. 

You blinked back the tears, not wanting to show just how much it had all affected you. But it was no use. A single drop slipped down your cheek and as quickly as it fell, you wiped it away. 

You were agitated now, extremely so. “I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend, Az.”

“Why would they do that?”

There was a pause. And then, “because her now husband was my first everything.” 

You waited for the statement to settle into the thick night air. Your first kiss, first boyfriend, first time. First love. Azriel could understand even more now just how much it hurt you. And the fact they kept it a secret? Even your family knew what they did was wrong. 

“I’m so sorry, that’s truly fucked. But you know, families suck sometimes. I only speak to my mom.”

“Oh?” You hadn’t realised you were even on your street until he parked right outside your apartment and flicked on his hazards. 

Azriel flicked the but of the smoke out the window and held out his hands, showcasing the marred flesh and patchy skin. “My half brothers did this to me when I was eight. They didn’t like that our mom had me with another man before she had them. They said that my bastard blood tainted the family, so they wanted to taint me.” 

Azriel had absolutely no fucking idea why he was divulging such an intimate and traumatic part of himself. But he made no attempt to hide or sugarcoat any of the truth. Especially not when he looked up from his hands and caught sight of your face. 

Salty tears silvered the linings of your eyes at the truth of what had happened to him. Bile crept up your throat and hatred for his family formed. Eight years old. You felt sick. 

“Az… I’m so sorry. That’s… I can’t even…”

But Azriel waved it off with a gentle smile. “It’s awful, sure. But I’m fine. I wouldn’t have met Cass and Rhys if that didn’t happen. They may be my found family, but they’re my brothers. Blood doesn't mean shit to me.

A single tear slipped down your warm cheek, staining the skin in its wake. Azriel reached out to wipe it away, his touch gentle and soft and yet all-consuming. Your gaze met in a flickering glance of hazy eyes and fluttering lashes. 

And then next thing you knew, your lips were on his. 

Azriel was quick to kiss you back; moulding his plump lips around yours as his large palms cupped the sides of your face. He was sweet on your mouth, a hint of salt from his fries and he swiped his tongue across the seam of your lips, you almost imploded. 

Azriel was no better. The second he got a taste, he was a starved man. Your tongues met in needy strokes and Az had never tasted anything like you before. Sweet like the watermelon lip gloss you wore, and a tang of smoke that haunted your mouth. 

He was hooked, desperately fucking hooked. Your own hands reached up to hold his wrists in hopes of keeping his touch on you. Azriel kissed you deeper, licking across your teeth before settling even deeper in your mouth. 

It was needy and messy and every unspoken word of desire was poured into that kiss, your touch. He could stay like that forever, kissing you, tasting you. Azriel could feel himself stretching in his pants, and from the almost inaudible whimper that strained from the back of your throat, he was certain you were just as needy between your own thighs. 

The thought spurred him on, as it did you. Your hands trailed down his forearms to his biceps, feeling at the muscle that tensed beneath your touch, until your arms were wrapping around his neck and he was pulling you closer over the centre console. 

Azriel kept a palm caressing your jaw while the other snaked to the side of your neck, his long fingers weaving through the hair at your nape and blunt fingernails scratching at your scalp. 

In your drug and lust filled haze, Azriel was shifting in his seat. You let one arm leave his body to reach for your seatbelt, planning to unbuckle it and crawl into his lap for a deeper, richer taste of him. 

But the second the safety belt was released, the blaring sound of an incoming call through the car's speaker jolted you both apart. It was then, and only then, that the gravity of the situation finally sunk in. 

His eyes were glazed over with something you’d never seen on him before, his lips even plumper and smeared with your gloss. You didn’t look much better. Only your eyes were wider than his and your hair had been a lot more dishevelled. 

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the insistent ringing of his phone jarring your eardrums. For the fourth time tonight, warmth settled over you again but in the form of embarrassment. He confided in you about a trauma so deep, and you’d kissed him. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologised breathlessly. 

Too caught up in your own fear and anxiety of what you’d done, you missed the way Azriel’s brows furrowed. His confusion quickly turned into panic when the thought settled in that perhaps you had regretted it. That even though you kissed him, perhaps you felt he had pressured you. 

And that made him sick to his stomach. 

Before Azriel could utter a single word, your hand was on the door handle and you were pushing it open. “I’m sorry, I should go.” 

You climbed out of the car as you uttered another apology, and slapped the door shut without so much as offering him another glance. The incoming call died to voicemail but Az couldn’t take his eyes off your empty seat, couldn’t get the taste of you off his tongue, the feel of your lips off his. 

Frustration grew at himself. Azriel turned forward in his seat, nostrils flared and teeth grit. He’d fucked it. He’d gone and fucked it entirely. His open palm smacked against the wheel before gripping it tightly, taking a moment to compose himself. 

He looked over at your seat again. 

Despite the lack of your physical presence, you were still there. In scent and touch and taste. 

Azriel was fucking done for. 

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[sleepyspnap]

Green Room- E.M X reader

Description: Rockstar!Eddie and Best Friend!Groupie!Reader; This came from the idea of Eddie fucking you before a show and getting caught by the band but he loves people knowing he gets to have you so he doesn’t let up and now its a whole fic

Tags: NSFW MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI,possesiveness, Oral (f reciving), Afab Female Reader, Fingering, begging

Wc: 2,304k

Taglist!

With its loud noise and long haired boys the metal scene was something you’d never imagined yourself dead and center of.

Yet, it was every other night you were in some dingy bar standing front row with sweaty bodys and buzzing bass, watching none other than your friend, your best friend even, Eddie Munson thrash about on the stage.

There was something erotic about watching your best friend since you were 16. The way his head tilted back exposing the thick expanse of his neck. His curls would stick to the sweat that glittered under the stage lights.

The new guys there always made an effort to flirt. Your clean clothes, tight tops, shades of earthy tones, decorated by jewelry you’d made. Needless to say you weren't what these guys were used to.

They’d corner you against the bar where you’d talk to a bartender you knew, or an older looking regular who somehow knew exactly why you always seemed to be there.

You’d tense and flush under their gaze, always unsure of how to tell them you werent there for a hookup. Or rather you were but not with them.

“Hey man, i don’t wanna ruin your fun but she's not available.” A bartender had said once, his name was Jack, he was a decently nice guy, always chatting with you while you waited for Eddie's band to start.

“Why? Are you her boyfriend or something?” The guy had sneered making Jack burst into laughter.

He wasnt incredibly obvious about it, there werent glitter and rinestones, but needless to say a few minutes in his vicinity you had figured out he was gay as they come.

“No doll, she belongs to the band.” Jack had said. Something twisted in your gut at his choice of words.

Belonged

You belonged to the band.

There was no dicrepancy between you and Jack anymore. He knew about what was going on when you were absent before shows, why you were quick to slip behind stage as Eddies band packed up.

“Shes a groupie?”

You snorted. His annoyed gaze flickered with fire to you.

“Something like that.” Jack laughed lightly, a pause held tension as the guy looked you up and down.

“I’m sure i could do better than these coked out wannabes babe” He uttered, voice dropping low as he persisted.

You wanted to laugh in his face, tell him all about what Eddie did for you. How his calloused fingers made you cry, how his tongue seemed to be burning with brimstone with how devious and sinful it was.

You didn't have the chance to reply however because Jack cleared his throat. Your eyes flicked to him, watching as he flicked between you and a space just over your shoulder.

You furrowed your brows turning to see what had his attention.

You spun on your heel, jumping as you were face to face with leather and black cotton.

There was the familiar smell that was distinguishable even in the smoky bar. Weed and a sharp bite of musky cologne.

“Woah! Didn't mean to scare you sweets!” Eddie teased, a hand that wasn't holding a sweating beer bottle wrapped around your waist.

“There's a delay because of some technical shit. Do you wanna hang in the green room?” He said lower, leaning down.

His breath was all beer and cigarettes, the common scent of a rockstar.

You didn't think twice when you nodded, his face broke into his signature crooked grin.

“Stop looking so excited, Eds, it's ruining the illusion.” You joked, only making his goofy smile widen.

“C’mon pumpkin! Don’t be like that.” He faked a pout that made that queasy feeling of guilt swell. You wanted him to kiss you, you wanted his kiss. Smile against his pout till you both giggled.

But that's just not how this was. Outside of sex you were basically nothing more than close friends. Not even his possessive touches lingered for too long.

That was okay.

Or at least that's what you told yourself in the moments you kind of wished there was more. That he actually liked you.

He guided you with a hand at the small of your back, letting his touch linger on the small strip of skin where your shirt was slightly too short.

“We don't have long, so no bratty shit today.” Eddie said as you entered the empty room.

The lights were a dim orange, a few bulbs busted and others letting off a terrible buzzing. A leather couch was against the furthest wall, ripped in places but the amount of times you were face down on it, you never minded the wear.

The door clicked behind you and Eddie pulled you close.His eyes scanned you, as they always did. He loved seeing your anticipation cloud over your eyes. And you loved staring at him while you could.

“I’m just gonna eat you out. I don’t think there's time for you to get fucked right now.” Eddie said lowly as he backed you to the sofa.

God did you love Eddie's mouth. Most of the time he would get you loose with his fingers, making you cum around them to loosen you for the girth of him. But in moments where he would put his mouth to good use for once in his annoying little life, it would leave you trembling and weak in the knees.

You loved grabbing his hair, feeling his moans against where you were most sensitive. It was always nice to know Eddie got pleasure just from giving.

And not to mention how you loved seeing his cock straining against his jeans as he stumbled out on stage, red lipped, sweaty and slightly still pussy drunk.

You bit your lip in anticipation as his hands ran along your waist, his gaze dark and wanting. It was nice to be wanted. It was even better to be wanted by him, even if not in the same way you desired.

“You look real good tonight babe.” He muttered, leaning in. His kiss was quick and soft, just long enough to where you got impatient and tried to deepen it.

He tugged the waistband of your pants down, not enough to expose you quite yet but enough where he could see the smooth unblemished skin of your pubic area.

“You shaved?” He asked redundantly, and slightly exasperated.

You giggled soft, knowing it wasn’t to insinuate he didn't like when you weren't baby smooth.

He’d told you before, while in this exact position how much he loved when your hairs grew a little long, how the burn on his mouth after made him throb.

“Y-yeah, I got waxed yesterday.”

His eyes were slightly wider, he pursed his lip to hide a grin.

“What?” You asked in his silence, his stillness was uncommon for moments when you were rushing. It was normally straight to the point, foreplay not necessary when just his smell and his smile made you dripping.

“It’s dumb but, don’t really like the idea of someone seeing you like that.” He wasn't shy when saying it, still oozing confidence as if the words didn't have your world crashing around you.

“You’re an idiot. It was a woman anyways.” You hid a blush behind your hands as he worked your pants and panties down your legs.

“Well shit sweetheart, tell her I said thanks next time.” He said breathily as his eyes locked on where you were smooth and glistening with wet arousal.

You gasped in surprise when his fingers ran up your slip with firm intention. His second hand coming down to spread your fold open, exposing where you were leaking clear slick. Your clit was throbbing between your legs, eager for more than slight brushes.

He took no time in pulling back his hair, pulling a banana clip from his pocket before skillfully pinning it back.

You loved when he pulled his hair away. Not only was it incredibly hot to see him get ready to devour you. Rather, without the thick curls you could see his face better. His light stubble and sharp features are all on show for you to see between your legs.

“Ready baby?” He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, your skin erupted in heat.

“Mhm, please.” You whimpered, feeling his warm breath against your pussy.

“Alright, let me take care of my whore.”

You cried out, the bittersweet name and sudden pressure of his slick tongue against you.

Your back arched off the leather, shaking hand coming to your mouth to muffle the noises that tumbled out.

You could feel his grin against your heat. The slick sound of your wetness being pulled from your body and into his waiting mouth.

“Fuck! Fuck eddie please!” You cried, your eyes stung with overwhelming pleasure as his lips wrapped around your clit.

You thought of this feeling often. When he’d take drags from a cigarette or a joint, you’d think about how that mouth brought this out from a deep locked away chest inside you. Only open and wanting when he was offering.

“That's it honey, feels good?”

You thrashed around, head bobbing with a nod as his fingers slipped with no hesitation into your sopping hole.

That was one thing about fucking a rockstar. He needed that ego boost that was your pleasure. Your confirmation to him that you were where he wanted and willing to let him take and take of his own volition.

“Yes! S’so good Eddie!” You were breathless, that coil in your stomach was tightened with every curve of his fingers against that spot you felt all the way to the tips of your fingers.

“Mmm, your close pretty girl. I can feel it around my fingers.” He hooked them hard against your sweet spot just to show off. You could feel your walls pulsing around him, begging for them to draw out the sweet release.

“M’ so close eds!Ca-Can i please cum!?” You pleaded, always asking, always awaiting confirmation.

“Good fucking girl. Asking so sweet. You can cum.” He sucked harder at your clit now, fingers speeding to a bone rattling pace.

The hot swell in your cunt was building, feeling it swirl and travel through your stomach as you rapidly approached release.

That was until the door of the green room swung open. Your eyes went wide, horrifying embarrassment fell over you as you locked eyes, one by one, with all of Eddie's band mates.

“Fuck dude! We gotta go come on!”

To make matters even worse, his head staid firm between your legs, tongue still working.

You tried to hide the pleasure that still overflowed from you. You gripped his hair, trying in vain to pull him away with weak tugs. Your body fought against your mind as it cried for him to continue.

With more shouts of rushing words he finally pulled off. Smiling up at your beet red face.

Just to further the humiliation it seemed he pressed a kiss to your aching clit before sitting back. His chin was slick with your wetness and he make a show of wiping some off with his shining fingers before sucking them clean.

“Eddie!” You whined, covering your face as he gazed down with a smile like there weren't sets of horrified eyes staring.

“Sorry for the interruption pumpkin. I’ll be back.”

He sauntered out with a devlish smirk, his cock obviously pressed painfully against the zipper of his jeans.

“I’m so sorry guys I-“ You tried to apologize through the red hot humiliation.

“Don’t sweat it! Eddies the idiot to blame anyways. He knew we were already short on time.” One of the boys called back, trying to avoid looking at you while also offering understanding smiles as they all left the room.

You never had the heart to say you knew that it was a race for time as well.

You laid back once the door had clicked shut. You could cry with embarrassment, even after their affirmations. You couldn’t imagine what they’d seen. How disheveled you were and how to make matters worse, Eddies continuation.

You weren’t mad at him, he was always one to want everyone to know how good he was. Besides, they’d caught you both fumbling to redress many times, but never like that. Never in the act.

Your skin was sweaty under your clothes and the ache between your slick legs was still there.

If it were any other circumstance there would be no qualms about getting yourself off but the fear that they might have forgotten something was in full force.

You wanted to throw up but your mind suddenly flickered to Eddie's face. How pleased he had looked when you finally were freed from him.

It made the shame take a back seat as heat flickered in your gut. Always a prominent feeling when you thought about Eddie wanting people to know what you did.

You kind of liked being his groupie, even if you both knew in an unspoken agreement that this was much more than that. It was a constant teetering between nothing but lust and gentler moments where you both just revealed in having each other so intimately.

It would be too hard to not want more. To not sit in the crowd everytime he fucked you before a show and feel that swell of superiority as you watched all the girls swoon over him, knowing he was yours, even if not offically.

You smiled to no one but yourself, a moment of bliss and recognition.

You figured then, even if you couldn’t look the members in the eyes ever again, that as long as Eddie wanted you. You were willing to get caught every time if it meant you would see his want, his desires spilling over. All for you.

[bbcphile]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Thanks for the ask, @thesilversun! 😀

Since the ask said written, not “are writing,” I’m not including my current MLC longfic (as yet unnamed), but otherwise it would absolutely be on this list. It’s 58k and not yet halfway through (facepalm), and I’m really looking forward to finishing it and sharing it. So, for MLC folks, sorry there’s only one MLC fic here!

1. What’s Sealed Away (Mysterious Lotus Casebook, Dihua)

I really enjoyed figuring out how a-Fei’s amnesia works based on the details the show gives us and the things it’s oddly silent about, and reverse engineering based on how he acts towards LLH what his experience of amnesia might be like. (Also, as someone who has unfortunately had experience with amnesia, I feel like most examples of the amnesia trope really punt on the many different kinds of memory and how amnesia can mean you lose some but not all, and the wild things that happen when there are contradictions between them.) I’m also really proud of the ways I tried to convey the meanings behind LLH’s reactions even when DFS as the POV character had no way to fully interpret them because of all the missing context. It was a fun writing challenge.

2. Nunc Atque Semper (Horatio Hornblower, Maria/Horatio Hornblower, past Archie Kennedy/Horatio Hornblower; the only Dead Kennedy Universe fic I will ever write)

I can’t even read fics where Archie dies without being an emotional mess for days, so I was not ever expecting to write one. But 1. I got a prompt for it, and 2. It was a chance to hold Horatio accountable for the ways he treats Maria in the series while also being sympathetic to him for his overwhelming grief and being married to someone he doesn’t love; and 3. I love incorporating literary allusions into my work, and Archie’s canonical love of Shakespeare meant that I could have a central part of the fic be Maria essentially trying to do literary analysis to figure out what Archie and Horatio were to each other. I very much broke my own heart with this fic and I’m still proud of it.

3. Harboured and Encompassed (Horatio Hornblower modernAU (libraryAU + actor!Archie), Archie/Horatio; Archie/Horatio/Will pre-slash; 148,000 words)

I am still so incredibly proud of how I adapted the characters and events (with aspects of some of the books thrown in) to a modern setting while staying true to who they are. These characters will always have a very very special place in my heart, as will the special combo of humor, fluff, and heart-rending angst that having a character like Archie at the center of it enabled (I miss writing him so much sometimes). I love the whole series, too, but this is definitely the core of it.

4. Turning Over the Sands of Time (Horatio Hornblower, Archie/Horatio)

I still don’t understand why this one has so few kudos when I think it’s some of my best writing. Maybe the subject matter is too bleak/violent? (Mind the tags if you read it!) I really love writing missing scene fics and character studies, and the moments from the show that bookend this fic break my heart every time and make me fall in love with Archie all over again, respectively, and I wanted to delve into the hellscape of Archie’s mind in those moments and show how, even when he is in emotional agony and dealing with flashbacks, he is still compassionate and caring and trying with what little agency he has to make sure no one ever suffers as he did, or at least, if they are forced to, that no one has to suffer alone. (Also, a horribly depressed and triggered Archie means a very poetic Archie, which means I got to write lines like “The actors had changed, but the play had not” and “a rotting weed by any name would smell as fetid” and “Dying might be a price worth paying if it could but purchase that.” Have I mentioned I miss writing Archie?)

5. Taking Hands Against a Sea of Troubles (Horatio Hornblower, Archie/Horatio)

TW: suicide mention

The first time I saw a delirious Archie quote Anthony and Cleopatra during his suicide attempt and the play-illiterate Horatio has no idea what he’s saying, I knew I wanted to write the a scene where they see the play together years later in Drury Lane and Horatio finally understands the context. And I knew the scene in the theater box would need so much non-verbal communication and would need to be so comparatively subtle–because of the semi-public nature of the theatre box and the very real danger they would face if Horatio actually comforted Archie more overtly–so I waited a few years after having the idea until I was able to execute it the way I wanted to. I really love fics that deal just as much (if not more) in what’s unsaid than what’s said–for all that I love deep dives into character psychology–and I’m so glad I was able to finally write this. 

Thanks again for the ask!

[gigantomachy1916]

🤡🎢❌💞🤩

I'm saving the first two for last because my answers are loooong.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Pregnancy, it gives me the ick! Also I don't like writing about healthy, well-adjusted people in happy relationships. Booooring.

💞 Who's your comfort character?

Loki from Marvel tbh. Coral Fang was mostly just me playing with him like a little doll, trying to put him into absurd situations and show different facets of him. Also L and Misa, and Villanelle from Killing Eve, and lots of others.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

As far as writing from their perspectives, I find L and Misa the easiest and most fun to write. I like writing his deductions because the way we think is pretty similar. With Misa, writing her is just like I'm indulging the bratty, attention-seeking 19 year old girl that still lives in my heart.

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Honestly there are so many parts of Coral Fang that were just me entertaining myself. I'm gonna be super self-indulgent and quote several, especially since most people who follow me on here just know my Death Note fics and might not have read it. (It's my longest fic and is about a broke punk dumbass accidentally putting Loki from Marvel in her debt and using that to make him be her friend. Then they bone a lot and get up to shenanigans.) This is gonna be a long response, sorry.

The opening line of Chapter 9:

Avery was not entirely sure if her biggest mistake had been taking Loki of Asgard to the aquarium, or if it had been smoking a metric fuckton of weed first, but either way, mistakes had been made.

From Chapter 17:

It was like a riddle. What do you get when you cross a magic alien god-prince with nearly a thousand micrograms of LSD? Hopefully the answer was not ‘Avery’s apartment being blown to pieces with Avery still inside it.’ But even if it was—fuck, what a way to go.

I had the time of my life writing Chapter 26 ("come back with a warrant"), when the Avengers track Loki to Avery's apartment, kick down her door, and attempt to "save" her from him. When Loki leaves, Avery accidentally reveals herself as his accomplice, and the Avengers decide to question her and search her apartment, leading to several incredible conversations:

Black Widow: [holding Avery's backpack, with $3600 in $20 bills inside of it] Care to explain how you got this? Avery: I'm a barista. People tip me. Black Widow: Lot of money for a barista. People tip you twenty dollar bills? Avery: [shrugging] Some of the money was a birthday present from my grandma. Black Widow: What about this? [sets a plastic baggie of weed on the table] Avery: ...That was also a birthday present from my grandma.

Then Captain America and Black Widow notice a bite mark on Avery's neck, pull off her hoodie, and find bruises all over her (from having rough sex with Loki while he was in his frost giant form).

Black Widow: [trying to be gentle and reassuring] Did Loki do this to you? It’s okay, you can tell us. Avery: No, I got the bruises at my fight club. Once a week, me and the ladies get together in a parking garage and beat the shit out of each other. Oh, fuck, I wasn't supposed to talk about that. Black Widow: [under her breath] God, she's worse than Tony. Captain America: You've clearly been bitten by something very recently, and whatever it was, it wasn't human. Avery: Oh, now that you mention it, that was Loki. Did you know that Loki’s actually a vampire? He’s been sucking my blood. He promised me that one day, if I’m a very good girl, he’ll make me a vampire, too.

But the scene that makes me absolutely crack up is in the following chapter, when, after they take Avery into SHIELD custody (where she says basically nothing to Director Fury other than "Lawyer" and "Go suck a bag of dicks"), Captain America tries to appeal to her conscience and get her to reveal Loki's plans.

Captain America: [finishing a very long, sincere speech] If you're afraid of Loki, we can take you into protective custody until he's caught and put behind bars. If you're protecting him for some reason, such as a, uh, personal relationship, all I can ask is that you think long and hard about what you are doing. You have a choice to make here, one that could potentially determine the fate of humanity, or at least the lives of a lot of human beings. I believe that, in your heart, you know the right thing to do. Avery: [voice shaking, looking at him trustingly] You promise you'll keep me safe? Captain America: Of course. You have nothing to be afraid of. Avery: Okay... I don't know what Loki is up to, exactly, but he did say something about his plan. Would that help? Captain America: Yes, anything you can tell us will help. Just tell us everything you know, no matter how little, and then you can go home. You have my word. Avery: From what I can remember… He told me the next thing he was going to do, after getting the scepter, would be to go get some Updog. Captain America: What’s Updog? Avery: Not much, dog. What’s up with you?

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Coral Fang lmao. Avery passes out drunk in a park, wakes up to find Loki of Asgard standing over her, invites him to Waffle House, lets him crash on her couch, is granted one favor by him, immediately gets drunk again and uses it to ask him to carry a bookcase up the stairs to her apartment, and it goes from there. During the story, Avery and Loki: [SPOILERS AHEAD]

have a birthday party

watch terrible porn

go to the aquarium

rob various establishments, including a bank, a convenience store (just for slushies), and SHIELD

beat the shit out of some construction equipment with bats and pipes

regrow a forest

turn a man's beard into centipedes for catcalling them

read a lot of Kurt Vonnegut

take an insane amount of LSD

hold each other at knifepoint on numerous occasions

kidnap an internationally renowned scientist and drop him off in a random town in Wales

destroy Mount Rushmore

put a Waffle House at the bottom of the Grand Canyon

make a deal with an infinity stone

telepathically mind-meld with each other

travel into Thanos' mind and quote Game of Thrones at him

get Avery's mugshot in Time magazine

[small-but-mightyy]

Hi I love your blog sorry I had to be anon to ask this I don’t want to get sent hate mail people do that on trauma blogs but I wanted to ask you this for advice purposes not curiousity.

I live with my abuser too, our stories seem so similar… can I ask your journey? Story or treatment path?

Hello anon!

I apologize for responding so late, but I hope this reaches you.

My treatment journey has been very up and down. I am very fortunate to have been given so many opportunities when it comes to treatment. I’ve been able to really weed out what works and what doesn’t (speaking from personal experiences). Here’s an idea of what’s helped me and what hasn’t:

I’ve been to about 7 different rehabilitation centers and maybe 4 or 5 psych wards in the past five years. While these places kept me alive, the reason why they didn’t help me was mainly because I was still living with my abuser. Talk therapy/CBT was also very triggering and since I wasn’t processing my emotions, it ended up making me feel worse. I have learned a lot from DBT, but it was and is hard to apply what I learned when I was/am still stuck in survival mode. I attempted to leave my abuser over and over again, but each time I ended up back in the same environment that broke me. I do believe that I would have benefited more from these places if I was truly safe at the time. The main reason why I kept going back to treatment centers was because I needed to get away from my childhood home.

Something that I’ve really benefited from is ketamine infusions. It’s not cheap and I understand that not everyone is able to try it. I was lucky to be able to and it honestly saved my life. I’ve experienced suicidal ideation since I was around 7 years old (possibly younger) and first started attempting to end my life at that age as well. The ketamine infusions made my SI go from severe to mild and I started noticing a difference about two weeks after the last infusion. I’m not cured obviously it doesn’t work like that, however I am able to say that the worst SI I’ve had since the infusions are fleeting thoughts that only last a couple seconds. It’s incredible. The effects don’t last forever, it can vary for each individual. It’s been a few months and I’m still doing pretty well so I’m hoping it continues to help.

I’m starting EMDR therapy soon because I am fortunately moving out of my main abuser’s house. I have an amazing therapist at the moment. I’m excited to finally start healing. Excited but terrified, but I’m trying to stay positive about it all. I really do believe that somatic experiencing is the best way to heal from trauma. My therapist even told me that you don’t need to talk about the trauma out loud in order to heal. The main thing is feeling it in your body and processing it that way.

I hope this helps you, and sorry again for responding so late. I wish you the best anon and I do hope you are able to get away from your abuser soon.

[geminisecrets]

Bad Habit

Warnings:  18+ ONLY! NSFW! Explicit sexual content, coarse language, oral sex, smut, unprotected sex, alcohol, jealousy kink, mentions of weed.

Word Count: 6.7K

Summary: jealous Sam idk that's pretty much it lol. aka the one where jake unintentionally helps you get laid

Authors Note: Listennnnn it took us a long time to post this because we had a bit of writers block, we also had a show and quite the trip planned around it, so it's been crazy. But, we hope you enjoy this jealous Sam fic hehe

Y’all are super duper fuckin rad for telling us what you think about our stuff. ☯️

Requests are open :) 

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“A little faster, baby.” I beg breathlessly. Sam obediently quickens the pace of his middle and ring fingers as they stroke that spot inside me. Lazily, his tongue licks between my lips, stopping every so often to flick his tongue over my clit. “Just like that.” 

“God, you look so fucking hot like this.” He groans into my pussy, his hips rocking into the mess of sheets and pillows under him. 

“So do you.” I mumble, gazing down at him as his tongue swipes up my center, lips and nose shining wet with my slick. He spits at my clit before going back in to devour me. 

“Lover?” I hear his voice, quiet and soft, call to me. 

“Hmm?” I hum, incredibly distracted by the way the scruff of his facial hair is tickling my thighs. 

“You know how we’re going to Hawaii in two weeks?” He asks.

“Mhm.” 

“Remember how Josh and his girlfriend begged to tag along? And we said yes?” 

“I agreed to it only if you promised to do the laundry for a month, but yes–” my voice catches as another wave hits me. “Why? Why are we talking about your brother right now?” I grimace. 

“Well, Jake found out…” he mutters, face still between my thighs. I groan and push him back a little, mood completely ruined at this point. 

“Samuel Fransis Kiszka… did you think you could soften the blow of this news with sex?” I begin to say, as Sam looks up at me with his doe eyes, pleading with me guiltily. 

He ignores the question.“Josh and I felt bad for leaving him out. I had to invite him, Sunshine.” There’s a pause as he anticipates my response, but I’m waiting, eyebrows raised, for further explanation. He peppers wet, sucking kisses across my thighs and up to my belly button in an attempt to lighten the mood again, but to no avail. “It’s just that he’s been in such a slump since he broke up with–”

“I know, I know.” I agree. See, I’m torn here. Part of me is pissed. Sam and I had finally found time to go on a trip, just the two of us. This getaway we’ve been looking forward to now included not one, but both of his brothers. Shit, we might as well just invite Danny and make it a family vacation. 

I also feel…warm. Warm because I love that Sam loves his family. He’s always prioritized them and it’s a quality of his I find incredibly endearing. And, I do love Josh and his girlfriend Pepper, and I love Jake and want him to get out of his own head for a week. 

“Fuck it. The more the merrier,” I roll my eyes teasingly at him, reaching for the back of his head and guiding it between my legs. He returns my smile and reattaches his lips to my clit, arms wrapping around my legs to keep them from clamping shut over his ears. “We'll circle back to this conversation later,” I breathe out. With the feeling of victory he has from me taking the news better than he thought, his vigor ramps up. His fingers curl inside me with purpose and determination as his lips suction onto my core, tongue drawing circles against the spot just above my clit. “I’m close, Sam. Don’t stop,” and before I can even take another full breath, I’m cumming around his fingers. 

As I come down, Sam slips his fingers into his mouth and then wipes them on the leg of his sweatpants. “Shower with me, Sunshine?” He asks, getting to his feet and reaching a hand out for me. I take it, padding barefoot behind him into the bathroom, legs still a little wobbly from the orgasm he’d given me. I reach into the shower and turn the left nozzle, warming up the water as he grabs two towels from the closet next to the sink.  

“You know I think you’re going to regret inviting your brothers on this trip.” I smile, wrapping my arms around Sam’s torso from behind and meeting his eyes as in the mirror as the steam from the hot water already starts to fog up our reflection. 

“Why’s that?” He asks, running his wooden handled paddle brush through the long tresses of his hair, wincing when he catches a snag. I let my hands roam the expanse of his bare chest and stare at the long column of his neck as he swallows, eyes now following the path my hands are taking. 

“I think you know why.” I smirk, biting his shoulder, my eyes finally meeting his again. 

“We’ll have our own room, beautiful.” He reminds me, turning in my arms to face me, placing his hands delicately on my cheeks.

“In a shared bungalow, handsome.” I sneer, teasing. Sam’s head lolls back as he lets out a groan, chuckling lightly. 

“I’m sorry, okay, you know how Josh gets with planning and shit and he begged for this place.” He explains. “It’s supposed to be a dream inside with an incredible view.” 

“I’m not really the one who should be worried anyway, am I?” I lean in, pressing a kiss to the hollow at the base of his neck. “You’re the loud one.” I smirk against his skin as I feel his chest vibrate under me, the howl of his laugh making me giggle in tandem. 

___________________

“I think my ass is going to be asleep for the rest of my life.” Jake groans as we step off of the plane and out into the humid, sticky, Hawaiian air. Immediately, we’re peeling layers off. Sweatshirts and cardigans are being tied around waists and hung over forearms as we saunter through the airport, following signs to baggage claim. After being cramped up in a plane for eleven hours, we’re all happy to be stretching our legs. 

The taxi ride to our bungalow is longer than we anticipated, so by the time we all get inside, I’m sideswiping my friends to get to the bathroom. It just so happens to be in the bedroom right off the living room. 

“Guess we’ll take that bedroom.” I hear Sam laugh, following me. 

“Pepper and I will take the loft then!” Josh shouts, practically running up the stairs, his girlfriend close behind. 

“No way. I get the couch bed? All to myself? How’d I get so lucky?” Jake teases, flopping onto the plush white linen of the rather large couch in the living room.

“Best bed in the house for the best brother I have.” Sam says, joining him on the couch. 

“I heard that!” Josh yells from above. I join Sam and Jake on the couch, fitting into the space they’ve left between them as I cuddle into Sam’s side, feet tucked under Jake’s leg and start to drift off to sleep, jetlag hitting me like a ton of bricks.

___________________

The clock is just ticking past seven in the morning when there’s a pounding on our door. I quickly cover my naked body with the sheets and before I know it, Josh is waltzing into the bedroom. “Wake up! We’ve got beaches to see!” He beams, sunlight radiating from behind him, causing me to roll over and pull the blanket up a little higher over my head. 

“We’re on vacation,” Sam mumbles, tossing in the sheets and covering his face with a pillow. I feel his hand reach out for me under the covers and I give it a squeeze.  

“Come on you lazy bastards, Jake made breakfast and Pepper’s too nice to eat without you. We’re starving.” Josh responds. 

When I hear the door click shut, I peak my head over the covers and stretch the sleep out of my muscles. I expect a good morning kiss from Sam. The same good morning kiss I’ve received every morning since we've been together. But when I roll to my head to the left, Sam’s walking into the ensuite bathroom, phone is his hand, typing away. 

“Excuse you?” I feign offense, although I’m not sure how feigned it really is. His head whips up to look back to me as though he’d forgotten there was even anyone else in the room. He hums in question and furrows his eyebrows, waiting for me to go on. “Are you forgetting something?” I ask, sitting up further.

“Course not, Sunshine.” He shakes his head, walking back over to my side of the bed to plant a kiss on my lips. It’s a peck. Not nearly as slow or soft as I wish it was and I find myself leaning forward, chasing his lips as he pulls away, retreating into the bathroom. 

Sam and I make our way out of the bedroom, half clothed and still half awake. When we turn the corner into the kitchen, we find Jake in a tiny apron, spatula in hand, and I can’t help but laugh at the sight of him. 

“What’s so funny?” Jake asks me, head whipping around, tapping the spatula to the palm of his hand. 

“Nothing, I just never thought I’d live to see the day where you're living out your housewife fantasy,” I mock. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s funny now, but wait until you taste these pancakes.” He boasts. “Un-fucking-real.”

Eventually, we all get ready, and load up the rental car– a lovely 2012 Toyota Sienna.

“Ahhh, the champagne of cars,” Jake chides, sitting in the third row backseat, palms resting on the headrests of the captains chairs in front of him. 

“You’re telling me you don’t think you could pull any women in this thing?” Sam asks, slapping the leather seat. 

“Oh, the car has nothing to do with the ability I have to pull women, Samuel.” Jake huffs.

Jake has always had a multitude of women at his reach, everyone always wants a piece. He’s been like that ever since I’ve known him and from what I've heard, ever since he was a teenager. Jake is the perfectly dangerous mix of meekly charming and confidently sexy. 

I met Jake while he was working at the cafe on campus when we were both in college. We became friends quickly. He was with another girl at the time but he had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world when he was talking to you. He’s incredibly easy to naturally gravitate toward, but damn, he keeps his walls up high. It makes him practically unreachable. 

I’ve seen many women come and go from his life over the years that I’ve been with Sam. They all have the same mindset of, “Oh, I can change him,” but they never last. After I was introduced to Sam, everything else was history. I don’t even know if Jake remembers the stage in life where he unknowingly had me wrapped around his finger. 

The drive to the beach is embarrassingly short. We really could have walked, but the resort is huge and we didn't want to chance getting lost. As we pull up to the white sand, I feel unbridled joy bubble up inside me. 

Once we finally set up camp on the beach, the sunscreen is being applied, the drinks start flowing and the music coming from the speaker at the little tiki bar behind us is setting the perfect vibe for the day. 

After about an hour in the sun, I start to squirm. “Fuck, it’s hot.” I whine from my lounge chair. Shifting on my side to face Sam’s chair and sliding my sunglasses down my nose, I ask, “swim with me?” He doesn’t answer at first and I almost think he’s asleep before he shrugs and says,

“Maybe in a bit.” 

“I’ll go in with you.” Jake offers from his spot on the other side of his brother. Josh and Pepper end up following too. 

After a dip in the ocean, with everyone but Sam, we all make our way back to the beach. Sam has moved from his chair to the shade of the beachside bar. I walk over to him, still soaking wet and wrap my arms around his neck, soaking him and smacking a kiss to his cheek. 

“Fuck, you’re freezing.” He hisses and winces, pulling away from me. 

“Why are you being such a grump?” I ask, trying to get a feel for exactly what happened between last night and this morning to put him in such a piss-poor mood. 

“I’m not being– I’m fine.” He pushes his sunglasses off his nose and rests them in his hair. “It’s just hot.” 

“Yeah, so the cool thing about the beach is that there’s this huge body of water you can go in to cool off.” I tease, still trying to lighten the mood. 

“What a strange, new concept.” He snides, grabbing his drink and shuffling past me back to the lounge chairs to join the others. I audibly huff out a humorless laugh and roll my eyes as I turn to the bartender. 

“I’ll take a mojito please.”

—--------------

Sam's phone is repeatedly going off, text, after text, after text and he’s checking it like a fourteen year old girl checks the Snapchat notifications from her crush. 

“Jesus, who is that? Your wife?” I ask, only half joking, reaching for the phone only intending to put it on silent. 

Sam reaches for it as I do, our hands colliding. “Umm…” He gulps, looking at me, “It’s–” He doesn't have to say her name before I see it on the screen. 

“Oh.” I say. “What does she want this time?” I question, trying to play it as cool as possible. Sam gestures for me to read the messages myself. I type in his password and start scrolling through the dozens of text messages, the first one coming in last night around midnight. 

All I’m seeing as I skim are keywords like “hospital” and “again” and “new medication” and “so depressed” and “I miss you guys”, “I’m here when you’re ready”–you get the point. 

That incredibly familiar, complicated feeling of jealousy and hurt washes over me. This isn’t the first time that this has happened. Sam’s ex-girlfriend slides back into his messages every few months or so. Sam being the kind and generous guy that he is, always responds. Politely telling her that she needs to move on, etc. But, there’s so much more to it than what you’re probably thinking. There’s a history there that dates back much further than I can even put a date to. A history that involves a myriad of mental health crises, mood disorders and deeply unhealthy attachment styles. 

We’ve had this conversation multiple times. So many hours spent arguing and discussing and crying. I have love for her too. She was my friend too and I want the best for her, but Sam can’t be her security blanket anymore. The last time we talked about this we’d both agreed that he would stop responding to her cries for help. She has good people in her life, she has a solid therapist and a loving family. Sam doesn’t need to be her savior anymore. 

What’s frustrating me is that he’s clearly giving in once again. I don’t know if it’s his savior complex or if he’s trying to hurt me for some reason, but I’m tired of it. 

After a full day on the beach, we decide it’s time for dinner. We’re all tired, sunburnt, and starving, so we pile up in the minivan as Josh drives us back to the bungalow. 

Exhausted, we decided to stop for dinner on the way home instead of going back out later. As we shuffle in the house, everyone drops their beach bags by the door and heads straight for the showers. Clean and lazy and still a little jet lagged, I join Jake on the couch. He reaches for the TV remote and picks out the movie, ‘50 First Dates’.

 “Hawaii. Very cliche,” I say, huffing out a laugh. 

“I feel as though it’s mandatory”, he responds. 

Meanwhile, Sam is typing frantically on his phone in the arm chair across the room, not muttering a word. He’s been like this since we left the beach. I try my hardest to ignore it, because I know exactly what he’s doing– feeding into his ex’s bullshit yet again. 

About halfway through the movie, Josh and Pepper break off to head to bed for the night, leaving Sam who is still glued to his phone, Jake who is glued to the TV, and myself, sitting awkwardly on the couch, bored, irritated, and tense. How many times are we going to have this fight? How many times am I going to sit here feeling guilty for being pissed off? 

“Holy shit, where did that bruise come from?” Jake asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

“Huh?” I ask, following his gaze to my thigh. 

“Right there.” He emphasizes his point by poking his finger into the reddish-purple spot on my skin. 

“Ouch, fuck!” I laugh, pulling away. “It must’ve been when I wiped out during our failed body surfing attempt today.” I grimace as I poke the edges of the bruise myself, assessing the damage. “I bruise so easily, I didn’t even notice it.” I chuckle, looking up to Sam. “Did you, babe?” 

Silence. He’s in another world over there. “Sam.” I say, directly. 

“Hmm?” He hums, head lolled back against the armchair, eyes on the glowing screen in his lap. 

“Did you notice this bruise?” I ask. Finally, he looks over to me but not for more than half a second before he’s preoccupied again. 

“No, I didn’t. Looks gnarly.” He states, deadpan, mind clearly elsewhere. 

“Do you want some ice or something?” Jake asks and I feel heat rise to my cheeks in embarrassment. Something about Jake noticing, taking the time to care about something as menial as a bruise I didn’t even feel until he touched it, when my boyfriend could not seem to care any less, is humiliating to me. 

“No, no I’m fine.” I brush it off. “I’m sure it’ll be yellow by the morning.” Jake nods in agreement but I can feel that he’s not convinced in the way his eyes linger on my skin. I feel it then, the flame, flicker, ember, even, of heat in my belly as his eyes drag down the length of my leg when he thinks I’m not watching. When he looks up to my face, his eyes flash wide for a second and he tries to hide a smile, turning back to watch the movie I know none of us are paying attention to. I can’t help but smile back before mimicking his actions and facing the screen. 

I’m not overly proud of my next move, but it does eventually get me exactly what I want. 

“Maybe that wipeout hit me harder than I thought.” I groan, reaching up to squeeze my shoulder muscle. Jake looks back over to me. “There’s a knot the size of a fucking baseball here.” I laugh. “Feel this.” I scoot closer to him on the couch. Without hesitation, he reaches over and gently digs his thumb into my deltoid. “No, here.” I reach for his hand and guide it closer to my neck. I press his fingers into the flesh there and watch as his eyebrows furrow. 

“Jesus, it’s like a rock.” He notes. I drop my hand and he continues to poke into the muscle with the tips of his fingers. I hiss when he rolls his fingers over the tendon. “Shit, sorry.” He pulls his hand away. 

“No–” I reply, maybe a little too enthusiastically, grabbing his wrist. Jake’s eyes widen again, this time in humor as my grip tightens on him. “Don’t stop.” I say, eyes flashing to Sam who is now sitting up a little straighter in his chair. 

It’s fun to make Sam squirm every once in a while. We’ve played this game before. He’ll make a comment about our server when we’re out or I’ll blow a kiss to a stranger. It always ends in explosive sex when we get home, or on the rare occasion, before we get home. It is, after all, harmless. Harmless in the sense that they’re always strangers and the intent is never malicious. It’s always more of a dare when we’re drunk or feeling brave. This feels a little different. Like I’m breaking the rules. 

As Jake massages my muscles, I start to really get into it, tossing my head to the side and letting out soft, faint noises of relief. It’s as I glance up at Sam and then back to Jake that he finally gets exactly what’s going on here and decides to feed into it further. He purses his lips around a grin and squints his eyes at me, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t you lie down on your stomach and I’ll tickle your back for you,” Jake offers. I slowly move myself down to the floor, making sure not to lock eyes with Sam. I lie on my chest and pull a throw pillow from the couch down to rest my head on. This isn’t so strange. We’ve been friends for years. Platonic back rubs, hair braiding, even the odd cuddle on the couch isn’t out of the ordinary for our friend group, but again, we all know this is different.  

Sam, still not uttering a word, continues to scroll through his phone but begins to look up at us every so often. I can feel his eyes on me, flashing questions, but I never meet his stare. He knows what I’m doing, but how far can I push him? 

I expect Jake to take a seat next to me, but he ups the ante just that much more when he straddles me, each leg falling to the side of my hips. I can feel him grind down on me as he tries to get a little more comfortable. I can see Sam’s face from this angle but I close my eyes, really giving into the facade. 

His fingers start to trace lightly up and down on my back. “Go a little slower, but a tad bit deeper Jakey,” I quietly breathe out, falling into a trance. He does as I say, slowing down his movement but digging his fingertips in a little harder.  “Feels kind of like deja vu.” 

“Are you talking about the night after Emma’s party when we crashed together in the guest room?” Jake laughs. 

I giggle at the thought. The night he’s referring to was a little (a lot) less sexy than he’s making it out to be, but there is a resemblance. After smoking too much pot and nearly greening out, I felt a panic attack coming on so Jake and I slept in the guest room. He rubbed circles on my back to help ground and calm me. I didn’t even know Sam at the time. 

“Here.” Jake says as he scoots back a bit and pulls my shirt up exposing my bare back. I didn't put a bra on after my shower and I think it catches him a bit off guard. His confidence falters as he clears his throat but lets his hands continue to wander, fingers drawing patterns on my skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

At this point Sam is staring daggers into us. I can see his chest rising and falling and I chance a look up at his face. His eyes aren't on mine, however they’re burning holes into his brother’s hands as they roam my skin. 

Feeling like we’ve taken this just about as far as we can aside from literally fucking in front of Sam, Jake moves to lay down on the floor beside me and I throw an arm out by his head, signalling for him to rest there. He scoots closer then, head in the crook of my elbow, eyes back on the TV. When I look back up to Sam, he’s finally put his phone down. He’s staring down at us from the armchair, his eyes nothing but slits as he gives me a disapproving scowl. 

“So, is this why you agreed to come to Hawaii with us?” Sam asks Jake. His words come out a curt and bitey, though I know he’s trying to stay casual. 

A smile brims his lips before his eyes slowly flutter open to respond. “I was thinking about making my move. Been thinking about it for years.” I know he’s only saying it as a jab to Sam, but something about the way he lifts up on his elbow, head in his hand, looking down at me, makes my stomach twist. Sam scoffs out a laugh. 

“We all know you had your chance years ago.” Sam mocks, standing now, stretching his arms over his head. The sliver of skin between his low slinging sweatpants and his t-shirt peeks out. I can’t help but look and of course he catches me. Damnit. The smirk he’s wearing pisses me off again and I shift up onto my elbows as well, looking over to Jake and our faces are less than a foot apart at this point.

“I don’t know, I could be persuaded into a polygamist situation.” I shrug, looking up at Sam now. “You’re always talking about how I’m so gullible I could find myself in a cult accidentally. Who's to say I don’t start one myself and get me a few brother husbands.” 

Jake tosses his head back and bellows out a laugh. “Brother husbands.” He repeats, tossing an arm around my neck and squeezing me into his side. “Whaddaya say Sammy, would you share with your big brother?” With his other hand he takes my jaw in his grasp and squeezes my face firmly, but gently until my lips pucker. “Don’t we look cute together?” He asks, pressing his cheek to mine. 

Meanwhile, Sam has lost any and all ability to ‘stay cool.’ He’s never been good at hiding his emotion or masking the way he really feels. He wears his heart on his sleeve and comes by his emotions honestly. Good or bad. 

“Cute isn't really the word that's coming to mind, no.” He grits, the smile on his face is so fake, it’s almost cartoonish. Jake’s grip on my face loosens and his hand wanders down to my stomach, laying it there casually as he continues, as if it’s the way we always touch each other. 

“Cute isn’t really a word I’d use to describe her either, if I’m being honest.” Jake says, suggestively, reaching to play with the string on my hoodie, and that does it. The silence is deafening as they stare at one another before,

“I think it’s time we call it a night, we’ve had a long day and could all use some sleep,” Is all I say. I sit forward and reach for Sam to help me up, but he’s already turned his back on me to pick up his phone from the armchair. 

“Here.” Jake says, standing and reaching for my hands. I’m not even fully stood up yet before Sam’s walking through our bedroom door and shutting it behind him. 

“Fuck.” I mutter, guiltily. 

“Maybe that was a bit much.” Jake grins, bumping his hip to mine. 

“Yeah you were laying it on pretty thick there, Jesus Christ.” I joke, shoving his bicep, though he barely stumbles. “If I didn't know better, I’d say you were barely acting at all.” I tease, facing him and walking backward toward the bedroom I share with Sam. 

He says nothing, only stares at me with a look on his face I can only describe as… coy. 

“Goodnight, gorgeous.” He smiles and turns around to make up his couch bed. “And goodluck with Casanova tonight.” I roll my eyes and finally turn to face the wooden door in front of me. The doorknob is in my hand, but it takes every ounce of willpower I have to turn it. 

When I open the door, the lights are all off except for the sliver of light coming from underneath the bathroom door. With a deep breath, I tap lightly on the door and hear a grunt from the other side. “Can I brush my teeth?” I ask softly. He says nothing but swings the door open, shirt off, hair in a messy bun, and toothbrush dangling from his mouth. 

I maneuver past him to the second sink on the counter and grab my toothbrush, starting my night routine in silence. The tension in this bathroom with Sam is painfully thick and I start to wonder if I really did take it too far. “Sam–” I start at the same time he says,

“Fuck you for that, by the way.” 

“Are you– Me?” I ask, toothbrush tipped over abandoned on the counter, toothpaste making a mess. 

“Yeah what the fuck was all that? Are you trying to make my bad day worse?” 

“Your bad day?” I nearly laugh. 

“Stop responding to my questions with questions.” He snides, spitting into the sink and putting his toothbrush into the little cup on the ledge. 

“Sam, can you seriously not see, from my perspective, how fucking miserable I was at the beach when your face was in your phone all day?”

“You think I wanted to be?” He retaliates. “You think I wanted to come on vacation with my favorite people only to be burdened with her shit yet again?”

“Yet again!” I walk past him into the bedroom and flick on the light. “Exactly. Cause we’ve been through this a million fucking times, Sam.” He follows me in and walks over to the bed where he fluffs his pillow and turns down the sheets.

“I promise you, I’m just as sick of it as you are.” He huffs. 

“You’re not the one fighting for affection in this relationship.” I frown, pulling my top over my head and reaching for an oversized tee to throw on for bed. “It fucking sucks.” 

“You say that like you've had to fight for anything at all in this relationship.” He bites. “I’m the one that moved because of your job. I’m the one who gave up my dog because you’re allergic. I’m the–” 

“Okay!” I raise my voice, now standing at my side of the bed. “I get it, Jesus, I’m a horrible nagging wench who clearly should’ve taken Jake up on that offer to hook up four years ago.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to swallow them. 

“I fucking knew it!” He laughs. “I knew you were getting off on that shit in the living room.”  

“Are you really putting this back on me?” I start to say as he talks over me.

“You want to fuck my brother don’t you.” He asks, and something about the tone of his voice as he slowly walks around the foot of the bed makes heat shoot through me from my throat down between my legs. He stares, waiting for me to respond as he stalks me like prey. 

“Are you being serious right now?” I ask, but I know the shake in my voice is giving me away. 

“I know you wanted him.” He says, now standing directly in front of me. “You can’t tell me there’s not a touch of that still in there.” He says, his hand slipping up under my t-shirt, finger ghosting along my underwear band. “In here.” 

My breaths start coming a little more sporadically as his eyes bore into mine, his fingers still wandering. 

“There she is,” he says, lips brushing mine. 

“Sam,” I whimper against his mouth as we breathe each other’s air. 

“There’s my girl.” He says. “My girl.” His fingers finally slide into my underwear. 

“Your girl.” I whisper, and just as soon as I feel his fingertips on my clit, they’re gone.

“Oh, so now you want to play nice?” He asks, reaching around me to turn the light off and then flicking on the bedside lamp. “What was all that out in the living room if you’re mine?” 

“I was just trying to get you to pay attention to me.” I nearly whisper. “Wanted you to want me.” 

“And you thought letting my brother put his hands all over you was going to get you what you wanted?” He asks, stepping toward me again, lightly pushing on my shoulders to lay down on the bed.

“That was the goal, yeah.” I smirk, lip between my teeth. 

“Did it feel good?” He asks, pressing his fingertips into the flesh on my shoulder that Jake had massaged just minutes ago. 

“Um..” I begin, not quite sure how to answer. “I mean, yeah my shoulders were pretty tense after a whole day of you stressing me the fuck out.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He chastises, straddling my hips, hands on either side of my head. “I want to know if you felt it in your pussy when he touched your shoulders.” I audibly moan in response to the boldness of his question. “Answer me, Sunshine.” He says, lips at my ear and hand traveling back down between my legs. 

“I–” I swallow, distracted by the feel of his fingers lightly petting me over my underwear. His teeth sink into my shoulder just enough to sting as he coaxes the confession out of me. “Yes!” I squeal. “Yes, fuck okay, yes it turned me on.” His lips and tongue soothe the area he’d bitten and he kisses down my chest, pulling at the neckline of my t-shirt to get at my breasts. 

His silence stirs up a need in me to explain myself. “All day long.” I start. “All day long, I’ve been thinking about fucking you,” I moan. 

“Is that so?” He asks, lips suctioning around my nipple. “Where, Sunshine?” 

“Everywhere. The beach, the kitchen, the fucking gas station.” 

“The gas station?” He chuckles, teeth grazing the sensitive bud of my opposite nipple. 

“Anywhere, God, is it not crystal fucking clear by now that I’m a slave for your affection? That I’d do anything for it?” I moan, hands gripping his hair to hold him close. 

He lifts his head to look at me and I can’t quite read the emotion on his face. He sits back a little bit and runs his hands under my shirt, lifting it off of me and over my head.  

“Anything?” He asks, hands running all over my body, starting with cupping my cheeks in his hands, down to my throat where he squeezes lightly, his blunt fingernails scraping down my chest, causing me to gasp as his hands squeeze my waist. 

“Anything, Sam.” 

He brings his hand to my mouth and slips two of his fingers past my lips. I swirl my tongue around them and watch his jaw fall open slightly as he watches my mouth. When he pulls them out, he reaches down to push my panties to the side and slide them inside of me. 

“Say it again.” 

“Anything.” I say. “I need you.” His fingers continue to pump in and out of me while his thumb moves to swipe repeatedly over my clit. My back begins to arch and that’s when he stops. 

“Not gonna be that easy,” he grins, standing up and pulling his boxers down and throwing them to the floor. 

“Careful not to wake anyone up with that pretty mouth, angel,” I tease as he crawls back on top of me and positions himself over my face, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me onto his cock. 

I slide him inside of my mouth until I feel him hit the back of my throat. His cock pulses inside my mouth as he begins to moan, gripping my hair harder with each thrust. 

His hips buck into my mouth and his breathing changes, I can taste the precum on my tongue as I circle him around in my mouth, paying special attention to the head the way I know he likes. 

He pulls out of me and before I can even catch my breath, he’s kneeling on the floor, throwing my legs over his shoulders, his mouth at my entrance, fucking into me with his tongue.  

“Fuck, yeah.” I groan, grasping at the sheets. His tongue pushes into me as far as it can go and his nose presses against my clit perfectly. “Oh my God.” I sigh as I rock my hips against his face. He hums his approval, creating the most unholy vibrating sensation through me from the inside out. His hands move to grip my hips, grinding me against his face as his nose slides up and down over my clit. “I’m gonna cum, Sam.” 

And I really should not have warned him because he licks one stripe up and my slit, and pulls away to leave wet trails all over my thighs as he peppers kisses all around me. 

“Careful Sunshine, you’ll ruin the sheets,” he says, as if that’d be solely my fault. 

“Maybe I want to,” I whine as he lies down on the bed next to me. 

“Such a needy little whore for me,” he says with a smoldering look on his face as he wipes his mouth clean. I can do absolutely nothing but moan in response. I love when he talks to me like this, and he knows it. “You wanna be my whore tonight, Sunshine?” He asks, pulling me on top of him. 

“Mmhmmm,” I say.

“Ride me,” he demands as he slaps my ass. I hover above him as he aligns himself with my core, teasing it at my entrance, rubbing my clit with the tip of his cock. 

He grabs me by the hips and slams me on to him, I cry out a moan in response, “fuck!” 

“Shhh shhh, don’t wanna wake ‘Jakey’, now do we?” He says. 

“Shut up,” I say as I continue to bounce up and down on him, watching him squirm below me as if I have the power, knowing full well that I don’t. 

In retaliation, he flips us over. With my knees bent and him in between my thighs, he thrusts himself back into me and picks a pace and rhythm that takes my breath away. 

“You are so fucking perfect.” He says, sweetly peppering kisses against my cheeks and lips, a complete juxtaposition from the way he’s pounding into me so perfectly I think I might have bruises in the morning. He grabs me by the hips and arches my back deeper so I’m not laying completely flat on the bed. 

“You’re so deep, Sam.” I say between gasps as he takes my breath away with each thrust. 

“Can you feel me here?” He asks, pressing into the skin under my belly button, making me squeal. “Jesus, you’re soaked,” He leans over me, then, my knees pressed to both of our chests as he grabs the back of my neck with his right hand, applying pressure to my pulse points. 

“Harder,” I cry out, as he slams into me, fingers squeezing tighter then moving around to my throat. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He teases as his hand grips a little tighter around my throat. I open my mouth to tell him I’m cumming but my orgasm washes over me in breathtaking waves. My hips continue to buck up against his as he grinds down into me until I feel his release inside of me. 

He falls to the side of me, pushing my hair away from my face and peppering the smallest of kisses down my cheek. My eyes flutter closed as I regulate my breathing.

“Hey.” He takes my face in his hands. “You’re right.” I open my mouth to tease him, because, yes. I know I am, but he smiles and beats me to it, clasping a hand over my mouth. “Don’t.” I smile under his hand and he kisses my forehead. “I wished her all the best and blocked her number right before your little stunt out there.” He confesses, reaching around me to turn off the bedside lamp. 

Masterlist

Taglist: @doodle417 @gvfrry @spicedandicedtea @yeehawbesties @samkiszkalover @gretavansteph @saoirsemaeve @mannick @theweightofjake @basiccortez @lallisonl @sammiejane22 @loofypoofy @sammyslappers @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @angelqueen99 @keighoe @myownparadise96 @gretavanbitches @kittykiszka @s0livagant @hallecat17 @aconfusedhippie @katie-gvf

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Bet: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: While on vacation, Gojo makes a bet that Geto just can’t refuse. 

words: 1677

tw: nsfw, heavy smut, and bondage, baybeeee

Vacation sounded nice. 

When Suguru said “vacation” and “we” and “are going” all in the same sentence, you first squint your eyes at him, noting the last time he had said those words, you ended up sitting on the floor of the hotel watching a B-rated horror flick while he laid in bed, snoring the night away. But he promised this time would be different, mentioned a beach, and then had you hooked. 

The beach was there; that was a fact. You actually went to the beach earlier, splashing around in the ocean after making a very amature sand castle and burying Satoru in the sand. But now, you were sitting in the adjoining suite with Satoru and some girl he had picked up from a local club, your legs in Suguru’s lap while you talked, absolutely sober. 

“I bet you all of the money in my wallet that y/n won’t survive thirty-minutes of being tied up.” Gojo laughs, a long arm slung around the random brunette who giggles a little at the bet.  “She’ll be begging you to untie her before you cum, Geto.” Suguru tilts his head at Satoru, stroking your bare legs in his lap and calculating the possibility of beating Satoru’s odds. You don’t know how they got onto the topic of rope and the art of tying someone up, but here you were; the focus of this particular unwarranted conversation. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure… You’re pretty resilient - aren’t you, kitten?” He asks, patting your thigh with certainty. You just nod, half-interested in the conversation, half hoping they would just leave well enough alone and Satoru would waltz off to fuck the woman to his left. 

The woman in question eyes you carefully from her perch on the couch, fully relaxing into the white-haired sorcerer’s chest. Little did she know that this would be her one and only debut because Gojo never dipped in the same pot twice. Ever. So you effectively ignore her and answer Suguru’s question. 

“I’m sure I can handle it.” 

You really thought “tied up” meant both wrists bound or even a simple frog tie. But your hands are bound behind you in reverse prayer, with your legs tied up in some other position that Suguru had mentioned to you as he worked. You wonder for a moment where he got the rope and if this had been Satoru and his plan all along.

But the thoughts fade as you watch the sorcerer work his magic, taking care to exert minimal pressure with his movements and check the tightness with fidelity. The sound of the thick rope running through his fingers arouses you more than the positions he contorts you into, and before long you are absolutely helpless to his every whim and wish with no ability to move of your own will. When Suguru finishes, he runs a hand over your back, admiring his handiwork with a sweet smile. 

“It’s been a minute since I’ve done this…” he murmurs, peeling off his clothes slowly. His arm muscles ripple in the dim lighting of the room, and you feel saliva pooling in your mouth. “But you look just as beautiful as I thought you would.” As a final touch, Suguru reaches into his suitcase and pulls out a bar gag, looking at the device before deciding that yes, he would like to use it. “I need your consent,” he states, and you nod your head, eager to feel the contraption between your lips. A relaxing sensation sweeps over you after the gag is put into place, and you rest your head on the sheets in surrender. 

“You’re being so good for me tonight,” your lover coos, swiping a hand over your pussy. You groan at the contact, constricting on nothingness until he slides a finger into you. You quickly discover that the gag is a barrier to all speech except the guttural sounds you make, and your desire to be vocal about your pleasure heightens. Now that you can’t touch yourself, the sensations are enhanced exponentially, and you squirm beneath Suguru’s touch. “If something doesn’t feel right, I need you to shake your head twice, understand?” You nod, and he adds a finger while tugging on an exposed nipple. The sound that wrenches itself from your throat is needy and heady and absolutely filled with lust, and your head begins to spin. 

Suguru removes his fingers quickly, making you cry out, but it isn’t long before they’re replaced with his cock nudging at your entrance. When he enters you, you hear him mutter a long string of curses, more than he’s ever uttered before in one sentence to your knowledge. 

“Oh my fucking god, this shit is so motherfucking good.” You whimper when he begins to move inside of you, the familiar wet slapping sounds filling the room. You hope Satoru and his little plaything can’t hear you enjoying yourself, but you’re sure Suguru has plans to make your moans the soundtrack of the night. As you jostle back and forth with each stroke, there’s a distinct sense of pain you feel from the rope against your skin. Not that it was too much, but the pain added another layer of stimulation that you couldn’t quite describe in any other word except incredible. 

Suguru sounds like a dying man as he plows into you, and you answer his pants and grunts with your own. “Seeing you like this makes me… oh, shit… it makes me feel so good, y/n. You’re such a beautiful woman… all tied up and...” He couldn’t finish his words as he moved inside of you, but you knew that this was exactly what turned him on: the fact that you were absolutely helpless without him made him feel invincible. The power dynamic is switched, and here you are, beholden to his every move. He wanted to be the one to give you pleasure, not anyone else; not even yourself. He held the cards in his hands, and he wouldn’t let anyone have them. 

So when you tumble over into your first orgasm of the night, you know he’s swelling up with pride as he continues ramming into your soaking wet cunt. “Cum for me…” he whispers as you moan around the bar in your mouth. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” 

Afterwards, he unties your hands, rubbing feeling back into them before re-tying them together in front of you. Instead of looping the rope around your wrists until it runs out, he deftly ties the ends around the restraints on your legs, making your arms stretch out between your thighs. Your fingers are so close to your pussy that you can feel the heat coming from it, but when you try to touch your clit, you find that it’s nearly impossible to do so. 

“We’ve got about fifteen more minutes,” Suguru murmurs into your ear, kissing your temple. “Think you can hold on?” You nod eagerly, hoping he can give you at least two more orgasms in that time frame. “Wonderful,” he answers, and takes his position behind you again. Except this time, there are no fingers or his cock… His tongue soaks into your cunt with precision, both hands resting on your ass cheeks. 

At the unexpected feeling, your head shoots up, tugging on your restraints a little. But Suguru ignores the movement and continues his agonizing, languid procession up and down your pussy, circling around your clit and back. His appreciation for your taste is evident in the sounds he makes, the humming down below stimulating you further. 

“Mmmph!” You grunt in response to his teeth grazing your clit before his tongue soothes the dull ache, flicking the bud back and forth. Your fingers extend out painfully, trying to anchor on anything as Suguru tortures you. But you fall over into the nothingness again, eyes drifting to the back of your head as you tremble beneath him. 

Your orgasm hasn’t even fully ended when he re-enters you, beginning his strokes. A wet sensation runs down your ass and the pressure from a single finger on your asshole startles you, making you jerk again. “You can take it…” Suguru whispers, pressing his thumb into your asshole with slight difficulty. “There you go.” 

The combined pressure from his cock and the finger in your ass drives you wild. Nevermind the fact that you were tied up; this was an entirely different level of satisfaction: ecstasy. 

Tears slip from your eyes and your body begins to feel the ache of an overwhelming experience. Reality is no more. You are no more. The universe? It’s all composed of this. 

The gag is drenched with your saliva and Suguru tosses his head back, a pained inhale dragging into his throat. “Fuck, I’m so close…” You try to buck your hips or at least attempt to reach your clit one last time so you can cum with him and completely black out, and you’re almost unsuccessful until you feel his cock twitch fiercely in your pussy. And that’s when your soul is snatched out of your body. 

You’re deaf to the loudest groan you’ve ever made, blind to the sight of Suguru tilting back and pressing his eyes closed due to the force of his orgasm, and numb to the feeling of him shooting long streams of cum into your cunt. 

The blackout doesn’t last forever, but you wish it had. 

The timer beeps, ropes come undone, the gag comes off, and you’re covered in a thick blanket before Suguru presses an infinite number of kisses to your face and neck. You feel as if you’d smoked the best weed in the world, but you know the high only stems from the man who is holding you close and whispering tender words into your ear. Before you can close your eyes and shut out the world around you, a kiss is pressed to the inside of your right wrist, Suguru places your hand on his heart, and whispers, 

“Satoru better not be broke.”

[rosicheeks]

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Cashapp - $rosicheeks420

Venmo - @ wickednyx

[laketaj24]

Serotonin III

A/N: Hey! Here’s the final part!!! I hope you enjoy it! I am working on three requests for Mr. Baker and Part 2 to The Business! My taglists and requests are open! Let me know what you think! Happy Reading!

Pairing: Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Language, Nudity, Lowkey Pettiness, Smut, orgasm denial

Inspo Song: Acting Like That : Yungblud ft. MGK, Travis Barker

Serotonin Masterlist,  MY MASTERLIST

Meg: I can’t believe you left me at the club! I was joking with your petty ass!

Colson: you said if I wanted her, go get her. I did

Meg: so you really are choosing her over me?

Meg: hello?

Meg: I know god damn well you getting my texts, you asshole

Meg: Colson.

Colson: who is this?

Meg: real funny

Colson: what you want?

Meg: Are you still coming tonight?

The hours  passed since he left seemed like seconds; maybe you’d fucked up. Overreacted by busting his phone up and making him go.

Shit.

The fact that he left his phone left meant Colson knew you’d fucked it up this time. You tossed the phone on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, and to make matters worst, you couldn’t even text and say come back because you had the phone. You’d fucked up.

Guilt played a weird role in your relationship, making Colson feel guilt, easy as pie. He did shit all the time, and even when he didn’t, his little ass found reasons for him to still feel some guilt. Guilt rarely rested on your shoulders, but here tonight, it rested heavily on your shoulders. You stare down at the text messages, there were several avenues you could take to resolve the issue. The first was just say you were sorry; apologies meant a lot. But a text wouldn’t do; for starters, it wouldn’t do because you had his phone. He wouldn’t see it. Secondly, Colson would eat the texted apology and spit it out in your face if you did that to him. Your arguments had been more than toxic in the past, and you may or may not have told him text apologies were trash. The only actual resolution was to drive over to the house and do it face to face. Unfortunately, that would not be an easy feat either.

You dressed quickly, taking one of his out of the box outside your bedroom. You slide on his purple EST sweatsuit. His aroma still lingered even though it’d been washed. The musky scent of his earthy Cologne intertwined with his weed because the man smoked enough for his whole team. It was a scent you’d grown accustomed to, felt like home, even sliding back into his clothes.

The drive over usual took forty minutes, traffic and all, but today it lasted ten, or it felt like ten, and no matter how many times you rehearsed your apology, it still tasted like dirt when you said it.

“Colson, I overreacted.” You braced a smile in your rearview mirror and then leaned into the steering wheel. “Colson, you’re gonna forgive me because you’re a fucking cheater.” You growled and slammed your fist into the passenger’s seat. “Colson- I am sorry I broke your phone. I will go with you to buy another one.” You laughed and reached for the vape filled with the THC vape. It’d be best to be high talking to him. The vape hits smooth, the fruity flavor hitting your tongue before your lungs, and then a plume of smoke fills the car as you exhale. Fuck.

The knock on your window scares you, but only a little as Slim waves. He points down, signaling you to roll the window down. You do, and the plume leaves with the small gust of wind the fresh air brings. “What are you doing out here Y/N? It’s three in the morning?”

“Shit.” You glance at the fluorescent blue digits on the clock. “Damnit.”

“Yeah, you good?” Slim smirks knowing the answer.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I can go get him.”

“No,” you said quickly. “I’ll come in a few.”

“bet, I’m gonna lock this gate.” He laughed as he walked away.

He faded from your view, and you slinked down in your seat, regathering what you were planning once more. Ten minutes passed, and you hit the vape four more times, feeling your body relax and the tension dissipates. It was time; either he forgave you, or you would just sleep in the car until he did. Every light in the house was on, upstairs and down; they never slept at night. They just slept until the next afternoon and started the party all over again. It's the one reason you refused to live with him; your sleep schedule would be fucked.

You stand at the grand doors and knock a few times, hoping they hear you over the loud ass music that played in the room over. It stopped abruptly after a few seconds, and you could hear his long strides headed to the door.

“If you don’t have food, go back home.” Colson’s playful voice came from the other side.

“I-,” You chuckled. “I don’t have food; everything was closed.”

“When I apologized to you, I had fucking food. Go get food and come back. The pizza place on Simmons is open until five.”

“Colson, please.”

“You can call Door Dash or whoever, but the entry fee is food.” The music started back, Dopeman – lyrics raged from the door, and your mouth dropped.

This fucking asshole had audacity and some fucking nerve, You banged against the door, but this time the music did not stop. He was being serious, a food fucking entry fee. Fuck him! Ten minutes passed, and he did not budge. The music continued, and you swore you could hear actual drums being played inside.

Fine. He wanted food; you’d bring him food. It was hard to strip in the back of a car, but you did. You stripped out of your clothes and grabbed the one pair of heels that never left your car. You called them fuck me heels, but it wasn’t because you were trying to get fucked. They were six inches and incredibly hard to walk in; you hated them. The most said was usually FUCK ME, when you wore them. If Colson wanted to be an ass, you’d level the playing field. You liked putting on a show too. You laid on your horn for a minute, knowing it would get his attention, clicked the headlights to your car, and stepped out into the crisp air of the night. He didn’t have too many neighbors but now was their opportunity if they wanted to see you naked. You stood bare ass in front of your car awaiting the jealous Colson. You knew well to show his face, and like clockwork, he arrived.

“What the fuck are you doing!” He yelled, charging from the house. “Y/N.”

“You said to bring food. Well, come eat.”

“You’re not fucking cute.” Colson snapped as he slid out of his jacket. He quickly wrapped your body in the black leather jacket and tossed you over his shoulder. “Fucking spoiled ass. You could have just went and got the motherfucking pizza.”

“It’s late.”

“I know what time it is,” He hissed. Colson entered the house, eyeing his friends. “Don’t even look at her.” He warned as he carried you up the steps; his hand came down on your ass with each step until you two finally reached his bedroom. Colson tossed you onto the plush black comforter and stood in front of you, “Why are you here?”

“You left your phone.” The line seemed innocent enough, but there was little innocence behind it.

“You broke it.” His confused look makes you laugh; cupping your mouth, he smacks. “Don’t come over here tryna laugh at you throwing shit at me Y/N.”

“I thought-.”

“I know what you thought.” He pointed at you, “So don’t try to sugarcoat it. You thought I was dicking  you down and then going back to her. Then you read them messages and realized you were a whole asshole.” He stated matter of fact.

“So, you’re not gonna let me talk.”

“Did you let me talk before you tossed me out? Why are you here anyway? It’s four in the morning. ”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You attempted to kick off the heels, and he grabbed your foot, stopping you from sliding it off.

“That guilty conscience is heavy, huh??” He cracked a smile and shook his head. “Leave them on.”

“You won.” You whispered. “I fucked up,” the omission tumbled from your lips unwillingly.

“Was that an apology?” Colson teased.

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Oh, you gone say that and more.” He laughed. “Sorry, ass apology.”

“Col-,” You giggled, “I’m tired. Can I apologize tomorrow, please?”

He kneeled in front of you, rubbing his hands up your legs, his touch ignited something in you, even if you were sleepy. “Oh and the next day too, shit, I’m never gonna let you live this shit down. So you can apologize all the fuck you want, but you’re not going to sleep right now. I haven’t had you in my bed in months. I wanna fuck you to sleep.”

“ I’m halfway there.” You smiled lazily at him, raking your fingers through his hair. “We have all tomorrow for make-up sex.”

“You the only person that’s doing the making up.” He reminded playfully.

“So you’ve said.”

Sleep found you minutes after you snuggled into his lean frame; you missed sleeping glued to Colson no matter how hot he felt. He nestled into you as well, pulling you against his chest, tracing his long fingers down the line of your back, humming tunes to an unwritten song when he thought you were sleeping. He didn’t sleep much tonight didn’t prove any different as the hues magenta cut across the once dark sky outside the window.

“Morning came fast.” You mumbled.

“It’s been three hours.” He whispered. “Shit, You still tired I can see it in you. You don’t have to get up.” He pulled the cover over your body and sighed. “I gotta be somewhere at eleven.” Colson groaned. “I’m gone cancel that shit.”

“No, do what you said you were going to do. Get some sleep.” You climbed out of bed, pulling drapes closed and bringing darkness back into the room. “It’s no point in missing money.” You said his words back to him.

“Yeah, whatever.” He watched you, his tongue between his teeth. “I really thought you were not coming over here tonight. I was tryna find ways to apologize to you for shit I didn’t do. It’s already fucked up when I have to apologize for this shit I did do.”  Colson adjusted his pillow and waited for you to return to the bed.

“I know I fucked up, damn.” The walk of shame was generally when you’d fucked a one-night stand, but right now, it was walking back to the bed to face him. “I get really pissy when it comes to you. Like—I wanna fight.” You cut a smile and sunk back into the bed, this time angling yourself to face him.

“Why fight me? I didn’t send the text?” He pulled you towards him and rolled himself on you. The weight was comfortable and one you’d craved. “Huh?” Colson exhaled before he leaned down and took your nipple in his mouth. He held the small nub between his two teeth, tugging a little before he began to suck.

“You’re gonna be tired.”

“Man fuck that interview.” He whispered before diverting his attention to the other nipple and repeating the same actions. You were already wet for him; one look could get you ready. Eager for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your pussy against his boxers. He could make the foreplay lasts as long as the sex, and you both had things to do later. There was no time for the slow sex; you damn near wanted to be punished – but he wasn’t in that mode.

Colson pushed his boxers down and lifted your waist from the bed, putting you in the perfect angle to take him but instead of slamming into you as you desired, he teased. He stroked the length of his cock down the line of your pussy, soaking himself in you before finding his way to your entrance and stopping.

“Stop playing.”

“I want that apology.” Colson smiled, looking down at you.

Your pussy jumped with anticipation. “I’m sorry.”

“Fake ass apology,” He pushed an inch into you and then pulled out. “Make it real.” He whispered.

You groaned, frustrated, slapping his chest in a tantrum. “I said I was fucking sorry.”

“Mean ass apology--,” he shook his head. “That’s how you wanna play, let’s fucking play.” Colson slammed into you, and your mouth opened in pleasure. His pace was intense, knocking the breath out of you with each stroke, but you didn’t want to breathe; you wanted to cum all over him. “Say that shit as you mean it.”

“I said-,” You scratched down his back halfway, and he pins your hands above your head, thrusting into your harder and faster. “Oh,”  Tremors take over, rocketing through your body. “Yes,” You buckled against him. “Yes.”

“Yeah, keep saying yes.” He pulled out of you, slapping three fingers to your clit. “I bet you won’t cum.”

Your eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry.”

Another slap to your clit, and the pleasure had faded just a small tinge of pain, and he started to fuck you once more, long strokes, hitting your g-spot each time. “I don’t believe that shit; this pussy is just greedy. You wanna cum, you ain’t sorry.” He whispered.

“I am sorry.” You whined as your body climbed back up to the precipice of a release. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Your swollen clit throbbed, one stroke away from cumming, and he stopped slapping your clit again, bringing pain that made you cry out. “I am sorry.” You cried. “I should not have thrown your phone.” You mewled. “I should have talked to you.” You pleaded. “Believed all that shit you said.”

“Why?”

“I don't know, let me cum.” You pulled at the one hand that had secured both of your wrists. “Please, daddy.” The lustful tone made him smile.

“You can call me daddy all the fuck you want… you ain’t getting what you want yet.” You rolled your hips, coaxing the movement from him, and he shook his head. “Stop being a fucking brat.” He warned. “Just tell me why you’re sorry.”

“Because I want to be with you.” You admitted. “I love you.”

He grinned. “You better mean that shit too.” Colson started back fucking you slow, releasing your hands but making sure he was in control. You flooded with relief feeling him give in to you, gripping your hips to meet his thrusts, all while burying his face in your neck to nip his favorite spots on your body. This is what you had wanted all along, to be with the man who’d somehow drove you insane but simultaneously become an innate piece of your life that brought you a balance you didn’t know you needed. He was, in a way, as your serotonin.

 A/N: I know I described my Meg in this fic, but just a lil disclaimer she is not Megan Fox lol I realized that could be confusing.

Taglist: @taytayize123 @ctrlszn​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @jae-writes-fanfiction​ @bigsisbria​ @placeoffreedom​ @kyla-queen​​ @missdforever​​ @gottatoxicattitude​​ @bang-kim-bap​​ @msreshel​​ @blowmymbackout​​ @titty-teetee​​ @strawberry-skyes​​ @mauvecherie​​ @savageiz​​ @luci-her​​ @littlelovebug98​ @babyboy-cody​​ @hellshedevil​​ @daddyavesxx​​ @crystalbaby12 @jeonsblackgf​​ @fangirl199812 @thatonegrl-1 @isyoongi​​ @lifeisabitchandsoareyou​​ @cartoonlover101​ @therandomthoughtsofmsparker​​ @bowwowzer @fandomfic-galore​​ @mayaslifeinabox​​ @lasren​​  @szaplsdrop @heavenly1927​​ @mvrylee​​ @canyoubuymetoast​​ @littlelovebug98​

[littlefreya]

The Kitten & the Bear - Part 1

Intro: This story is a collab and was written by both @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ and I. It was born out of a fun role play we have going on. We ended up having so much a fun with this particular idea that we thought we should post it as a 3 part story and share it with the rest!

| Read Part 2  | Read Part 3 |

Summary: After a night of drinking in town get Walter’s bratty wife ends up with pure chaos and the overprotective grumpy husband is having none of her shenanigans. 

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC (first person pov) 

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Bratty behaviour, vandalism, dominant overprotectiveness, BDE, husband stalking his wife, sexual innuendo, dirty inappropriate talks, mentions of sex and oral, weed and alcohol usage. Sex in the next parts :D Walter is a Boomer. 

A/N: We didn’t beta it and did transform it from 2nd to 1st person POV, really hoping you guys will enjoy it as we did. Feel free to share your thoughts. 

Title: The Kitten & the Bear

Nothing chilled my heart more than waking up in an empty bed. Walter was already gone, leaving his side of the mattress cold and abandoned. A heavy sigh broke from my lips, I stroked the ghost of the kiss that still tingled on my cheek, knowing he planted it there before heading to work. 

Sadness seeped into my heart as I realised I won't see him today. Our work scheduled conflicted and I have scheduled a "date night" with my girls in the evening. Picking up my phone, I texted him a pouty emoji and then headed to get my day started.

Walter left me on read, which just fuelled the brat in me. When he called during his lunch break, he was taciturn as usual, and most of the call was about his disapproval of us girls going out without at least one male friend or a boyfriend to chaperone.

"Oh my god, Walter, this is not the 50s! Women can leave their house without a husband tagging along!" I grunted and berated him, "stop acting like someone is going to kidnap me!!! I'm an adult woman!" I snapped at him while sitting at the cafe. People sitting around stared quietly as I hung up the phone, and stormed out.

~~~

Walter looked at his mobile phone, shocked. He couldn't even remember the last time someone hung up on him, let along his wife.

"Fucking brat," he muttered as he pocketed it. 

After lunch, he went into the precinct. Since it was flu season and they were having a shortage of uniformed officers, he volunteered to patrol tonight. Assuming he might even be able to check up on me wherever I get to town. Just to keep me safe. That's right. Not from jealousy. Not because I'll be all dolled up and tipsy and every man in the vicinity will ogle me.

~~~

As the evening loomed, I was in dire need of letting loose. Walter had left me incredibly frustrated, acting like a police officer from hell rather than my husband. Going through my closet, I stumbled upon the most outrageous piece of wardrobe: a black strappy thing with corset details at the front. The same one I've worn for our first date which of course ended up with Walter and I dry humping like two horny teenagers at the back of his truck and him eating me out until I came all over his beard 4 times. 

I slapped a dark red lipstick and put on a pair of red "fuck me" pumps before leaving to meet the gals in a new night club that had just opened. I might or might not have a rolled-up joint in my purse.

~~~

Walter was sitting in a patrol vehicle on the opposite side of the street from the new fancy club with translucent walls. We were all sitting beside the window at a small table full of cocktail glasses, but the girls were gesturing toward the dance floor. Walter chose a dark spot on the street to park the car and was wearing a beanie. 

But he didn't need it. He knew I was oblivious to him and also to the men staring at me from 3 different tables. He ground his teeth frustrated when he first noticed that I was wearing that dress. His blood boiled as I was slowly sipping a cocktail with a sexy little pout around the long straw.

"Let's dance!!! I wanna dance!!!" I whined at my friend Keylah, grabbing her wrist and dragging her with me. My posture was slightly unstable after two cocktails and probably not enough food to pad my belly. She followed me to the dance floor while Stephanie remained in her seat, talking to some guy just for the sake of trolling. He'd been hitting on each one of us unsuccessfully. 

After an hour of dancing with Keylah, swaying my ass in ways that didn't leave any imagination to the men lurking, I remembered the little treat I had in my purse and decided we should take a small break to breathe some fresh air. 

I grabbed the girls, and we walked outside.

"Okay, don't you dare mention this to Walter," I warned them as I took the joint out from my purse.

"Daddy Magnum gonna punish you?" Steph teased while I lit the weed. 

"Oh, you have no idea, he gave me shit about seeing you tonight without a male chaperone, like this is Mad Man or something." 

"Woah! Walter is a boomer!!!" Keylah teased, and we all laughed hysterically. 

~~~

Unbeknownst to me, Walter was watching us dance from his patrol car, getting more and more frustrated by the hour. He observed as I gathered both girls and came out on the street, walking a couple of meters away from the entrance. A frown fell on his face as he saw me taking a lighter out from my purse.

"She doesn't even smoke, what the hell?" he fumed. 

His eyes widened when he saw the telltale shape of a joint between my fingers. His mouth was agape as I lit it up and started smoking and passing it around. "What the fuck? Where did she get that?" he muttered incredulously.

'It's fucking illegal in Minnesota, what the fuck? A cop's wife at that!' He thought, rage simmering in his gut.  

The police radio suddenly began buzzing, the sergeant calling on the line. 

"Hey Marshall, Toby came in for the night shift after all. Do you want him to keep you company?" 

'And see Walter's wife going to town on a spliff? No fucking way.' 

"No, Sarge, thanks. It's uh... calm tonight." He frowned from afar. "Nothing but law-abiding citizens," he replied, hoping his sarcasm didn't go through while he was watching the wife of a respected detective drunk and smoking weed in the great outdoors.

"All right" the sarge concluded and cut the line, and Walter put back the radio.

‘Un-fucking-believable.'

~~~

The girls and I fell into a fit of wild giggles, thoroughly buzzed and high at the same time. My skirt rode up my thighs, and I didn't even bother fixing it as the combination of drugs and alcohol made me frivolous and careless. 

"Is Walter such a nerd in bed too? Is he one of those guys who won't even make a sound because they are ashamed of it?" Stephanie asked to which I immediately snorted.

"Walter fucks like a beast from hell," I answered and put off the remains of the joint against the heel of my shoe. 

"I had to go to the gyno at least four times in the past because he was too violent, and trust me, the noise he makes, luckily no one called the police yet…" 

"Jennifer, your husband is the police!" Keylah answered, and we burst into another fit of giggles which then gradually died down. 

The same man who bugged us from before followed us outside, giving us some stares and making a suckling voice with his lips. I snorted at him and told him to fuck off before putting my arms around my girls. 

"This place sucks, let's go grab something to eat from the store, if Walter sees me like this I will NEVER hear the end of it".

~~~

Walter was watching us walk away, still furious about my illicit behaviour. He promised himself that he'd have a serious conversation with me about this tomorrow. He gave us two blocks of a head start and then ignited the engine of the car and made a U-turn, slowly he rolled towards the store and saw us enter. He made another U-turn in front of the store to park across the street. He just hoped that we'll buy some nachos and a coke and then call it a night, and call a cab to go home.

~~~

It was close to 1am. We barged into the store, marching through as if we owned the place. Keylah stopped by the condoms section and threw a bottle of lube in my direction. "Here you go, Jennifer, you gonna need it".

I laughed and threw it back at her, grabbing a bag of chips and a bottle of water. 

"Better fuck his brains before he starts asking where you've been tonight," Stephanie added. 

"Can you girls please behave?" The clerk-lady requested politely, giving us a prudent look. I rolled my eyes at her and then stopped short as I saw a large stuffed grizzly bear that reminded me of Walter. I grabbed it and hugged it tightly just as I got the sudden urge to misbehave.

"Girls…" I whispered, making them come closer, "bet you a 20 I can sneak this out without paying!"

~~~

Walter's shoulders slumped, and he let out an irritated groan when he saw one of the girls throwing things inside the store. Though, he sighed in relief when I paused this stupid game, and a small smile tugged the edge of his mouth when I hugged a huge stuffed bear that reached down to my thighs and was high above the top of my head as I squeezed it to my torso. 

The way I looked at the bear reminded him of the loving looks I always gave him. But a sense of foreboding assaulted him as we started whispering and pointed at the door.

~~~

"Okay, okay… shush!" I whispered way too obvious and held the stuffed animal behind my back.

"Hey Keylah, can you pay for my chips?" I asked and backed away toward the door, nearly stumbling on my heels and holding the laughter in my gut. 

Noticing my attempt, the old woman cleared her throat, giving me a glare, "You are going to have to pay for that or I will call the police…"

"Her husb…"

"Shut up, Stephanie!" Keylah shouted and threw a bottle of lube in her direction, accidently hitting my shoulder, which made me drop the bear on the floor. 

"Key, you fucking bitch!!!" I answered and picked up the bottle, throwing it back at her. 

"Hey stop that!!!!" The clerk demanded and walked back behind the counter, picking up her phone. 

We ignored her, laughing like schoolgirls and throwing the bottle back and forth between us. Boxes of tampons and condoms fell to the floor as we moved through the hygiene section shouting playfully. 

As Keylah threw the bottle at me for the 12th time, I lifted it and threw it so hard it hit the window and broke it, causing the store's alarm to go off immediately.

"Oh… fu……..ck" I uttered.

~~~

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," Walter panicked as he saw us vandalising the store. He was immediately ready to jump out of the car, but then it would be obvious he'd been keeping an eye on me. He had to wait for the call. 

He wasn't even hoping that the clerk would not involve the police in the matter. She has to. ‘Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck.’ 

When he saw the lady picking up the phone, he buried his face in his palms and rubbed it tiredly.

"Stupid, fucking bitches" he sighed, not believing his wife being so reckless. 

He picked up the buzzing radio and said, "Marshall. I'm here. On it." 

Without delay, he took the beanie off and got out of the car with his badge and gun ready.

~~~

Fingers dug into my hair, I stared wide-eyed at the broken window, immediately regretting all my decisions in the last couple of hours. 

'Walter was going to fucking kill me'. 

"I am soooooooo……." I began to say, turning to the clerk slowly while Keylah and Steph held their hands over their mouths. "So sorry." I stretched out while the alarm continued ringing in my ears. 

Then just like out of a nightmare, stepping through shards of broken glass with his big black boots, I saw Walter walking in, his brows knit together, his badge and his gun held out but kept low. He was enormous and menacing, yet the sight of him comforted me.

"Oh thank god, it's you!" I call out relieved.

~~~

The glass cracked beneath his steps as he walked in. He looked around and checked the store for cameras. 'Fuck, there were CCTVs'. 

He hoped to snatch me away and take care of the situation without involving... well himself but now that there was evidence it wasn't possible anymore. I was looking at him like a frightened little girl, but he couldn't help me, and frankly, he didn't feel like it either.

He looked at the clerk, showed her his badge and said in a neutral tone "MPD. What seems to be the problem?" 

~~~

My breath hitched at his "cop voice" and the way he asked the clerk. 

Stepping back and standing in the middle of the group, the three of us gaped at him with utter dumbfoundedness. Both my heart and gut dropped to the messy floor out of fear, and the way he carried himself, looking so menacing and authoritative made my panties drenched with arousal. 

"Officer, thank god you arrived! These three tried to steal a stuffed animal and started wreaking havoc in the store, throwing stuff around like children and speaking offensively!" The old woman explained and stood in the middle of the mess, looking helpless. 

My eyes rounded with false innocence, and I nibbled my bottom lip, giving Walter a vulnerable look. 

Walter was patiently listening to the clerk. Not a muscle flinched on his face as if he'd known everything. He took his notebook and a report form out and took care of the paperwork. 

The old lady eyed the three of us nervously while Walter was scribbling, and she hesitantly asked, "I'm sorry, Officer, but shouldn't you handcuff them? They might run."

Walter's curly head lifted, and he flashed the lady a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry, ma'am. They won't run."

"Is he serious?" Steph whispered, and I elbowed her, giving Walter a rather pissed off smile as he pretended not to know us at all and treated me like any other criminal.

Was it that just for show? Probably. We were going to have a serious talk about boundaries once we'd get home.

Walter finished writing his report and made the lady sign it before turning to look at the three of us, clenching his jaw. 

After a long, stern silence, I finally spoke, "Can I still get the teddy bear?"

Walter's nostrils flared as he dug into his pocket, pulled out a 20-dollar bill, slammed it on the counter and said to the clerk "For the bear."

At first, the lady was dumbfounded, then she blurted out outraged "Why are you buying a gift for a criminal?"

Walter didn't even spare her a look. He picked up the bear and looked at me with unflinching, stern eyes that made all three of us take a step backwards.

"Because she's my fucking wife."

The tone of his voice made the three of us startle, and I released a small gasp, seeing the look on his face. Walter made a gesture with his hand singling us to walk out of the store in order, and we did as he commanded. At the same time, my eyes gave him a mischievous smirk, mistaking this behaviour for a show.

Walter left the store last and immediately commanded, "To the car".

When we got there on the opposite side of the street, he opened the car and shoved the teddy bear on the passenger seat, then turned back, crossed his hands on his chest, and looked at all three of us. 

"Here's how it's gonna happen. We go in the precinct, fill out the forms, you stay the night, and most likely will be charged with a misdemeanour. Although the weed might be more problematic." He glared at me pointedly. 

The girls and I collectively gasped. 

"Now get in the back seat, all of you."

With shuddering legs, Keylah and Steph obediently entered the patrol car. I stared at Walter as he stood there towering over me, his massive arms crossed around his broad chest.

Still intoxicated, I looked at him with disbelief, realising two things: he arrived at the scene in less than two minutes after the lady called the police, which is impossible. And two, he couldn't possibly know I had weed on me unless… 

"Were you stalking me?!" I called out, ignoring the police officer and speaking to my husband. My hands went to my hips, my face sulking. 

"Oh my god, Walter! You were! Weren't you?" I frowned and shook my head, grunting with disgust.

"You are in no position to reproach me for anything right now", Walter said, seemingly calm. "But if you wanna know, I was patrolling in the neighbourhood and decided to check up on you. I saw the way you were shaking your ass for strangers" he spat, but he let his eyes roam the tight dress, and the way he subtly licked his lips made me sure he remembered exactly which dress it was.

"Do as you're fucking told and get in the car or you're gonna find yourself in even bigger trouble." 

"Oh my god, Walter!!! Are you fucking kidding me?!" I yelled at him and stepped back, throwing my hands in the air furiously.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!!! MY OWN HUSBAND STALKING ME?! What's next Walter? You gonna put an ankle bracelet thingy on me, so I don't get to leave the house without your fucking permission?!"

I got so angry, my hands pushed at his chest, to which he didn't even budge, and only his jaw tightened.

"I am NOT getting into that car, and you are going to let Keylah and Steph go before you are going to be in trouble!"

Keylah and Steph were both watching with utter fascination as they saw the growing tension in Walter's posture.

Once Keylah and Steph were inside the car, they felt like the immediate danger was over. Their drunkenness and high made them reckless again and they started cheering me in the verbal fight with my husband.

Walter was on the verge of bursting, it was evident from his face. He took a menacing step towards me and despite my anger, a pang of arousal shot in my core.

"Get. in the. fucking. car" he growled in a barely audible voice. He gave me one last chance to voluntarily obey him.

I moved closer toward him, my head tilting up to meet his menacing gaze, my breasts ghostly brushing against his hard torso.

"I am not going anywhere with you," I answered unflinchingly. "Keep this attitude up, and the whole town will get to enjoy me swaying this ass long before you do." I teasingly slapped my own ass and then smirked arrogantly as I heard the girls cheering at the backseat

"That's it."

Quick as lightning, Walter's hands uncrossed and shot out. He grabbed my arms, turned me around with dizzying speed and slammed my torso down on the hood of the police car.

"Jennifer Marshall, you are under arrest for destruction of property, public intoxication and obstruction of a law enforcement officer."

I gasped incredulously as I felt the metal handcuffs closing on my wrists while Walter was performing his duty automatically and methodically. I'd never seen him make an arrest, let alone manhandle me like this.

With my cheek pressed against the cold metal, I could see both Keylah and Steph gape at us, eyes and mouth wide with daze. 

Still intoxicated, I hissed as a shiver of fear and sexual arousal shot through my spine, creeping all the way down to my throbbing core. 

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I cried out in protest. "I am your wife!"

My attempt to stand up brought my ass to collide with his crotch, where I felt the unmistakable throb of his blood circulating down to his groin. 

"Are you also getting the feeling that they're gonna fuck?" Steph whispered to Keylah, loud enough for us to hear.

"Shush!" she answered and stared, licking her lips. 

"Let me go, you fucking pig!" I screamed and squirmed on the hood helplessly. 

"Anything you say will be held against you in the court of law" Walter continued in his deep cop voice as if I hadn't even spoken.

"Say his dick, girl!" Keylah shouted, and Steph wooed, but they quickly shut up and resorted to concealed giggling as Walter shot angry eyes at them. He stepped closer to secure his hold on the handcuffs, and I felt the warm coarse material of his jeans at the back of my thighs.

"If you don't want to add resisting arrest and possession of narcotics to your offences, shut the fuck up and stop squirming."

"Fuck” I hissed, which didn't go unnoticed by Walter. My ass naturally shifted against his hardening bulge, and I moaned gently, not loud enough for the girls to hear but definitely heard by Walter, who had his hand around my cuffed wrists.

"You're enjoying this, big guy?" I spit out sardonically, "controlling your wife like you always want to, hmm?"

With the alcohol flushing through my veins, mingled with the sheer exhilaration of anger, I became more daring than ever.

"I think you are just scared because we both know you are never going to tame me."

[a-froger-epic]

Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

J

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

J

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

[broadway-aradia]

i said to my friends and family for like a full year “if i could just start going to yoga again i would get my shit together so fast i swear…” but i was broke and jobless and still messed up from my shoulder dislocation and all these other things but

i finally said fuck it and redirected some bill money into a yoga membership and 3 months later i have a job, i was able to strengthen the muscles around my shoulder so it doesn’t pop out anymore, i have energy to cook and clean and take good care of my skin and hair, i eat healthier because i’m cooking, i go for long walks in the park and read books again, i get more sleep, smoke less weed, feel less of an urge to buy things, feel much more creative and happy, and have much more structured days because i know i have to be in class at a certain time

i would love to read more about WHY discipline and meditation have such an incredible effect on my adhd, i’ve had adderall and therapy since i was 5 (i’m 25) but truly nothing has helped so much i can truly count on it to work and that’s crazy. they really figured this shit out thousands and thousands of years ago

[triplexdoublex]

That’s My Baby

Pairings: Mod Sun x Reader

Warnings/tags: Pegging, use of a strap-on

A/N: This takes place in the same universe as my other Mod fics but it can still be read as a stand alone.

“Hey, you’re home!” You greeted Mod at the door. “I was starting to get worried, you usually text if you're gonna be home late from the studio.” 

“Sorry, I got a little distracted,” he motioned to the pink store bag in his hand.

“Oooh is that for me!?” You questioned excitedly, retrieving the bag from his grasp.

“Uhhh… yeah, I mean technically —“ he winced as you opened it, uncertain of how you would react. “I know we had talked about spicing things up and I-I just happen to pass that new sex shop they just opened on the way home, so I stopped in , and - and umm, yeah I thought I might be into trying... that” he spoke quickly, with both hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans, awaiting your response.

“Oh..” you gasped in shock as you pulled the apparatus from the bag. “A strap-on? Y-you want me to —“

“Sorry—” he began, with his head hung low. “I-if you’re not into it we can just—“

“Hey, hey, look at me,” you placed it back in the bag and stepped closer raising his chin with your fingertips. “You just caught me off guard that’s all. I’d be honored.” You smiled.

“Yeah?” His face lit up. 

“Yeah,” you pulled him in for a kiss. “C’mon,” you took his hand in yours, the bag in the other and walked him towards the bedroom. 

“Now?” He questioned, in surprise.

“Mmm, hmm” you hummed in confirmation , tugging him through the bedroom door.

“Damn, you spoil me.”

“You know it, baby.” You smirked before pushing him down on the bed, with a hand to his chest. You placed the bag at the foot of the bed for the time being as Mod rid himself of his shirt. You crawled over his sprawled out body on the bed and began kissing his neck. 

“God, I fucking love you!” He spoke with a hint of soft laugher to his voice. “I shoulda known you’d be cool with this.”

“Of course, anything for you, baby,” you began kissing him lower, and lower, trailing your lips and tongue over the permanent artistry that adorned his flesh until they disappeared below the denim horizon of his jeans. He lifted his hips as you unbuttoned his pants, aiding in their swift removal; his boxers stripped away with them. You took him in your hand and slowly pumped him while you lowered your mouth to the tip with a teasing, single swipe of your tongue. 

“Always such a tease!” He remarked with an impatient whine looking down at you.

“Can’t help myself, love watching you get all flustered and needy,” you continued to taunt him, holding him motionless in your palm as you licked around the base and mouthed his balls. His eyes were locked onto yours, watching you work. His hands were gripping at the sheets with eager frustration, his cheeks rosy and flushed.

“Please!” He begged as he lifted his hips from the bed with desperate need, trying to fuck into your fist. Eventually after teasing him a little bit longer you obliged and took him fully into your mouth; a satisfied hum falling from his lips. “Finally!!” he cried out gently threading his fingers into your hair, his hand bobbing along for the ride as you worked your mouth up and down his length, taking him in as deep as you possibly could and pumping what you couldn’t. You kept at until you felt his hand pushing at your shoulder; a breathy “stop, stop” bringing you to a halt. “Didn’t wanna cum yet,” he huffed “Wanna wait until —“ his eyes finished his sentence, drifting to the pink bag at the end of the bed. You got up off the bed and quickly retrieved the bag, as to not keep him waiting. 

“Oh good, you bought lube too” you noticed when taking out the strap-on. “Here,” you tossed it to him.

“I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself to the bathroom to put on the device, saving you both the awkward embarrassment of trying to figure out how to put it on.

Inside the bathroom you stripped off your clothes and struggled to find the right orientation of the contraption, turning it around as you tried to pinpoint which of the multiple adjustable loops were meant to wrap around your thighs and which were meant  to encompass your hips. Once you got it figured out you stepped into it, and pulled it up, adjusting the straps to fit you snuggly.

“Sorry that took so long,” you said as you stepped back into the bedroom. “I swear you need a degree in engineering to put this thing on,” you laughed. “Ohh— getting started without me I see,” you took notice of Mod prepping himself on the bed; two lubed slicked fingers working him open. “Ready for me yet?” You asked crawling onto the bed and settling between his thighs.

“I-I think so” he slid his fingers out.

“How do you wanna do this?” You questioned. 

“Just like this,” he answered. “Wanna face you.”

 You cracked open the bottle of lube and drizzled it over the pink, phallic shaped, object strapped to your pelvis and used your hand to make sure it was fully coated before bringing the tip to the slicked pucker between his cheeks.

 You were met with resistance at first, barely able to inch your way inside “Try not to tense up or it’s gonna hurt more. Just relax,” you coached him, rubbing soft circles with the thumb of your free hand on his hip. It took a few moments but eventually Mod relaxed enough and the head of the toy popped in, being swallowed by the tight ring of muscle. 

“Mmm, fuck!” Mod groaned, squeezing his eyes tight.

“That’s the worst part I promise,” You stayed as still as you possibly could. “I’m gonna give you some time to adjust, let me know when you’re ready.”

“You’re right it’s not so bad now, think I’m good,” he said after a few minutes. “You seem to know what you’re doing, have you done this before?” He questioned as you began slowly rolling your hips.

“No, but do think I’ve never been on the receiving end of anal before? Did you forget I used to date Colson?” You laughed.

“Ah, Touché” he laughed as well. “Speaking of Colson, please don’t tell him or the guys about this.”

“If that’s what you want baby, I can respect that, but I want you to know that this doesn’t make you any less of a man or whatever it is you're worried about?” You reassured him, gripping his waist with both hands as you gently thrusted.

“Mmhhmm uh, I-I know that, but I’m not sure the boys would agree,” he answered through strained moans.

“Pleasure is pleasure, if whoever the hell made humans didn’t want men to get fucked up the ass then perhaps they shouldn’t have put the male G-spot there,” you said in all seriousness.

“That’s a good point,” he laughed looking up at you with his crystal blue-green eyes. “This is why I love you,” he cupped your face, with a smile on his, and connected your lips.  You swallowed down his moans one after the other as you slowly increased your sped and depth. “Mmmmm mhhmmmmmn,” he broke the kiss with a long and throaty moan when you brushed against his prostate. “Aw yeah, do that- do that again!” He exclaimed breathily, gripping your backside, pulling you in deeper.

“Yeah, that’s my baby, that’s my baby. Let me hear you,” you praised and encouraged him. Typically Mod wasn’t one to be openly vocal, you knew he had the potential but he usually chose to hold back for whatever reason, but there was no stopping him now. 

“Uhhh , baby, fuck! This feel so ah- amazinggg!” He whined, covering his face with his hand.

“No, lemme see you,” you pushed his hand away and cradled his face. “Look at me. You close?” You questioned. Mod nodded. “Wanna watch you cum for me.” You reached your hand down between your two bodies and began stroking him to assist with his release. He tried his best to keep eye contact; his eyes fluttering closed in sync with the ebb and flow of your thrusts. Suddenly, you felt him twitch in your hand. “You gonna—“

“Yes,yes —- oh fuck! UhhMmmm,” His eyes rolled back and his shaft pulsed as he came, emptying on his stomach. You gave him a few minutes to come down from his high.

“Might sting a little” you warned, before you slowly pulled out, producing a brief whimper from Mod. “Stay right there,” you said. “I’ll be back with something to clean you up,” You once again excused yourself to the bathroom where you rid yourself of the contraption and wet a face cloth with warm water before returning to the bedroom. “You did so good,” you praised him as you wiped the cum and lube from his body.

“ I seriously can’t thank you enough, that was absolutely incredible,” he smiled at you fondly as you finished cleaning him up.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” you smiled back. “You might want to take it easily for the rest of the weekend, you’re probably gonna be a little sore.”

“Oooooh yeah, good idea,” he groaned as he sat up. Just then his phone went off. It was a text:

Colson: 11am tomorrow don’t forget!

“Oh fuck! I forgot I promised Colson I would help him move his shit into Megan’s place tomorrow.” 

“Can you cancel?” 

“No, I already smoked all the free weed that he gave me in advance in exchange for helping him.” He laughed 

“Yup sounds like something you would do!” You giggled “I’ll go with you tomorrow to help.”

***************

“Aye, perfect timing!” Colson shouted as you and Mod pulled into the driveway. “Just about ready to move my dresser out into the truck. Mind giving me a hand, while the boys take a break? Rook, Slim and Baze have  been helping since eight am but I know that’s early as fuck for you and you need your beauty sleep or whatever.” He laughed “let’s go.” 

Inside both boys lifted one end of Colson’s dresser and removed it from his room, and headed down the stairs with it. Mod was moving slower than usual, feeling a little sore as to be expected. 

“Aye, Mod you think you can walk a little faster here, my fuckin’ arms are getting tired.” 

“I’m walkin’ as fast as I can, Kells. You want help or not?”

“Walkin’ like you got a dick up your ass is more like it,” Colson taunted in friendly banter. “I’m the one walking backwards down a staircase here bro.”

“Kells, just shut the fuck up.” Mod laughed as they continued down the stairs.  He could feel himself beginning to blush and hoped he could just play off his pink hued cheeks as exertion, before Colson started asking more questions.

“Yo, Y/N!” Colson yelled over to you as you were loading some of the smaller boxes. “What the hell did you do to my boy last night? He joked. “Man can hardly walk. Did you finally break him out of his little Vanilla shell and give his thighs a workout making him fuck you good and hard last night or some shit?” Colson truly had no filter at times.

You looked at Mod with a smirk before answering. “Yeah, something like that.”

[seros-tonin]

Sleepy Sesh

Summary: Sleeping never came easy for you. Sero understood that, and always tried his hardest to help you get the best sleep you possibly could. 

Rating: Technically MA, really only mentions of drug use

Genre: Fluff. Just super cute and fluffy :)

The night seemed to be dragging on. No matter which position I laid in, nothing felt even remotely comfortable. I felt bad, tossing and turning over every twenty minutes. Poor Sero, the one night a week he asks me to stay at his pace and I keep him up all night. I let out a slightly annoyed sigh as I sat up. With my back slightly against the pillows I put my head in my hands. What could I possibly do to just simply sleep? Why was it such a difficult task? Exhaustion and frustration took over as I let out another sigh, this one much louder and more strangled than the last. I felt Sero’s frame shift as he lay his head facing me. Without opening his eyes he let out a deep breath. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked without opening up his eyes. He was well aware of how difficult sleep was at times. Either getting to sleep or staying asleep. 

“No. Just one of those nights again, I suppose.” A crooked frown splayed on my face. 

“Yeah, I could feel you trying to get comfy.” Sero responded, a little muffled since he still hadn’t lifted his head from his pillow. 

“I’m sorry cariño, I’m probably going to head out to the couch. You need to do stuff tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you up.” I sheepishly whispered, beginning to remove the blanket from my legs. 

“Who says that not having you in the bed would help me sleep?” He raises an eyebrow while opening up his eyes. His hand gently reaching to grip my wrist. “Stay mi amor. I will help you fall asleep. 

“Hanta, you don’t have to. Please get some sleep, I will fall asleep soon out on the couch I’m sure.” 

“I can barely ever sleep when you aren’t next to me. I get you one night a week, I’m not letting you sleep in the next room over.” He chuckled as he sat up next to me. “Let’s get you a little sleepy, shall we?” He asked while turning the LED lights on a slightly higher setting. 

I watched him amusingly, wondering how more light would help me sleep. I kept a curious eye on him while he reached over to the small desk near his bed. It clicked as soon as he reached for the top drawer. 

“I can pitch in next time, I feel bad always relying on yours.” a small chuckle left me. 

“No worries cariño, I enjoy sharing with you.” he smirked while grabbing the tray out of the drawer and plopping down next to me. “What are you feeling tonight mi vida? I got some new strawberry papers, or a bowl that I should have cleaned like four days ago.” He slightly chuckled, obviously amused by himself. 

“Not because I think you're gross or anything, but let’s do the papers.” I replied while scooting closer to him. 

It was always so calming to watch him while he crafted,as he liked to call it. The way his fingers moved so gently yet precisely, truly beautiful. I grabbed the grinder to help him out at least a little bit. 

“Can we use some of your keef tonight babe? I really just want to get some good sleep with you.” I slightly pouted. “I promise I will buy you another one of those edibles that Jirou gave me.” 

“Deal.” he smiled while grabbing the grinder from me, laughing slightly at my proposition. 

I smiled to myself just enjoying watching him. I lay my head on his shoulder, careful not to mess him up. He gently grabs the paper, spreading out the grinded weed, and adding what keef he has left over. He has always been the best at rolling out of the whole group. Oftentimes he would try to teach Mina and me, only for us to give up after two tries, reasoning how we will never have to learn because we have him. He looked at me from the side, bringing up the paper to his lips and slowly licking the edge. The dim light only seemed to make him look even more beautiful that I seemed to remember. I smiled giddily, not being able to stop myself from cupping his face in my hands. 

“You’re cute Hanta, y’know that?” 

“I’m aware, but thank you.” He smiled at his own joke, scrunching up his nose in the process. I had no choice but to bring him in for a chaste kiss, hoping that the kiss alone was able to tell him just how cute I thought he was. He simply smirked as he resumed finishing up the joint. “Here you go mi amor! You can start it if you’d like.” He reached out the joint towards me, a big smile across his face. 

“If you insist mi vida.” I grabbed the joint gently from him, the lighter following shortly after. The pale pink paper looked so pretty in the dim light. I brought the joint to the end of my lips, the lighter in my other hand. I flicked the lighter to ignite the end of the joint, inhaling slowly, enjoying the first hit. Even though we had smoked earlier in the night, it had knocked Sero out about an hour ago, leaving me with a pretty set buzz still. We both knew that this joint would knock me out enough to get me a couple hours of sleep. I took another hit, drawing it out, just simply enjoying it. 

“I like this paper, you should get it more often.” I offered before exhaling. 

“They’re pretty good, aren’t they? I still think the tangerine ones are my favorite though.” he replied, taking the joint as I handed it to him. 

“Of course they are.” a small satirical eye roll following along with my reply. 

We both giggled at my response, falling into a comfortable silence afterwards. The remainder of the joint was spent in that silence. I moved closer into Sero, wrapping my arms around his side, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. At some point he started just passing the joint to me, allowing me to hit it while he held onto it. It allowed me to get more comfortable next to him. 

“Wanna try something mi amor?” He questioned. 

“Sure.” I simply replied, lifting my head slightly to look at him. 

“I want to shotgun with you.” a smile spread across his face. 

“Okay!” The excitement more than likely eminent on my face. 

He moved slightly so that we were facing one another. Bringing one of his hands to cup my cheek while the other brought the joint to his lips. He kept eye contact with me while he took the hit, making me blush slightly. The pure intimacy between this action was weighing down around us. Comfortable still, though. As he pulled the joint away from his lips, holding his breath, he inched closer and closer to my lips. Sero was careful not to get the joint too close to my face as he brought up his opposite hand to cup my other cheek. 

We both shared a small smile before closing our eyes, letting our lips connect. As I felt him exhale, I inhaled, feeling the faint smoke enter my lungs. The feeling of the flowing smoke mixed with the already heightened emotions from the weed only made the action that much more incredible. As I felt him back away from me, I slowly opened my eyes. I went to slowly part my lips as he broke my thought. 

“Hold it, mi vida.” Quiet, yet still impactful. I held the smoke in my lungs for a while as Sero simply watched me with an amused smirk. That damn smirk. He leaned in and gave me a gentle kiss. As he pulled away he said, “Okay hermosa, let it go.” 

I exhaled, watching as a small cloud exited above us. I gave him a small smile in return, settling ourselves back into our prior positions. Sero brough the joint back to his lips, taking a small enough hit to make sure to not clear the last of it. He brought the rest of the joint close to my lips, waiting until I parted them to bring it closer. I took a big inhale, knowing that this would most likely be my last hit before we were left with a roach. I opened my eyes after trailing away from the joint, meeting Sero’s own looking at me. I gave him a confused look, but holding in my smoke, waiting to voice my confusion. He smiled at me while taking the last hit of the joint, a small chuckle leaving his lips before he inhaled. 

“What did I do?” I asked horsley as I let the smoke leave my lungs. 

He shook his head, doing the same as me and waiting before opening his mouth. I waited patiently, simply looking up at him. I’m sure it was the mix of the drug in my body, but I was brought into the most loving headspace for the man. I smiled as brightly as possible, simply waiting for his answer. 

“You’re just so amazing. Mi todo. “ he said after slowly exhaling.  “What about me? What’s with the heart eyes, huh?” 

“A mí también.” I softly spoke, not breaking my gaze from him. He simply smiled at me, letting out a breathy almost giggle, before leaning down to gently kiss me. 

“How are you feeling mi amor?” he questioned. 

“Pretty fucking cool. Zoinked.” I laughed at my own response, in return causing Sero to laugh back at me. “Y tu?” 

“Bueno, muy bien.” He looked at me with hooded eyes, still sparkling even in this dim lighting. “Let’s cuddle for a bit,” he proposed, reaching to turn the lights back onto their lowest setting. 

We settled back into lying positions. Sero laid on his back, holding his arm up, inviting me to come lay next to him. I scooted closer to him,  laying my head on top of his bare chest and resting my hand gently on his abdomen. He brought his arm around my shoulders, both of us letting out a relaxed sigh at the same time. We just sat for the remainder of the night, relaxation taking over us. The mix of the dimly lit room and the whirlwind of feelings from the weed completely taking over. It felt as though we couldn’t get close enough to one another. We kept scooting closer and closer to one another (even when there was already no space between us). As I moved to drape my arm over his torso I felt all of his muscles relax. 

“Te amo, mi amor.” he expressed in a gravely whisper. He placed the smallest possible kiss to the top of my head while bringing me closer to him. 

“I love you too cariño.” I whispered back, resting my head closer to his chest. 

Both of us were too influenced to even think about talking. So we simply let the comfort of one another take over, engulfing us in a dream like state. The steady beat of Sero’s heartbeat only added to the feeling, and I very soon felt sleep completely take over me. The feeling of being held by Sero not leaving me the whole night, meaning that we both finally got the deep sleep that we both needed. 

[beaubokuto]

━ amnesia

pairing: shoto todoroki x f!reader

genre: angst

summary: shoto todoroki didn’t understand what went wrong when you broke up with him. he didn’t understand when you held his hand as you said goodbye. and he didn’t understand why you left him completely.

a/n: inspired by amnesia by 5 seconds of summer. also kind of inspired by a tik tok by @ leannaeileen ;D. i live for bakugou and todoroki friendship SO i added some of that in here hehe

tags: angst, swearing, suggestive humor, post break up, friends to lovers to strangers, sad, breaking up, pining, mutual pining, comfort, some fluff, characters are aged up, pro hero todoroki and pro hero reader, reader has an undescribed quirk, smut, dom!todoroki and sub!reader, rough smut, size kink

unedited

His eyes dart back and forth. He is most definitely seeing things correctly, but he wants confirmation. He needs confirmation.

Your eyes find his easily. The eyes which he has not seen in years.

His name slips off of your tongue with hidden nostalgia. He barely has time to process.

You look more beautiful now than you did when you left. Your hair is shorter, your skin clear.

You are the epitome of stunning.

Literally. He can’t move.

You weed your way through the human traffic of the mid afternoon streets to meet him. He greets you with a fake smile, though he quickly feels it turn into a real one. One he once only reserved for you.

“I cannot believe that I am meeting you in the streets, of all places.” You tell him once you are close enough. “I was on my way to meet some of the boys for lunch and catch up.”

Some of the boys. You meant Deku and Bakugou, he is sure.

Why didn’t they invite him?

“You look amazing.” Todoroki tells you before he can stop himself.

You take the compliment. “I try. You look good, too. But you’ve always looked good.”

He tries not to take it to heart despite the aching the casual conversation brings.

He tries not to think of you telling him that you loved him. He tries not to think about the ring that sits in his bedside table that he can’t seem to get rid of. He tries not to think of your lips on his.

He tries not to think about how you broke his heart with a few simple words and a plane ticket.

“This is awkward.” He finally says.

Your smile falters, but you nod nonetheless. “It is a bit awkward talking to strangers, huh?”

You were shaking as you grabbed his hand, connecting your skin for the last time. You traced your fingers over his.

You were hoping for a spark. A shiver of connection in that moment of weakness. And when you didn’t, you let go.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t do it anymore.” You told your boyfriend of years.

You expected him to question your reasoning. You expected an argument, a fight. You expected him to want you to stay. For him to ask you to stay.

But he didn’t.

Shoto Todoroki only stared at where your hands were just connected in his and said, “okay.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall for him.

You first met the boy during his years at UA. You weren’t in his class, but you ran into each other often. Whether it was in the hallway, or at lunch, it felt as though you came into contact with him more often than not.

“Are you stalking me?” You joked with him one day as you walked beside him towards the lunch hall.

Shoto Todoroki seemed to fluster for a minute, “No, no. No. We are just... going to the same place. At the same time.”

You giggled and nudged him with your shoulder. He wasn’t even knocked off of his balance a little bit.

“It was a joke, Todoroki.” You took your eyes off of him in favor of the hallway in front of you. “And since you aren’t stalking me, wanna sit with me at lunch?”

He started to question how you knew his name, but decided against it. Shrugging his shoulders and shoving his hands into his pockets, he said, “Yes, I’ll sit with you.”

The friendship blossomed slowly.

It was a helicopter leaf falling from the tallest tree, full of twists and turns and maybes and possibilities. It was a stone being skipped across a calm lake, creating ripples through the water and destroying the once stability in the most beautiful way possible. 

It was watching a movie that you couldn’t take your eyes off of, no matter how desperately you needed to pee. It was reading a book that you couldn’t put down because you needed to know how it ended before going to sleep.

It was a cherry blossom in the spring, only to disappear come fall. 

Because falling in love is falling out of a friendship.

“C’mon, Todo!” You begged, gripping his arm in an attempt to bring him with you. “Movie night! Everyone is going!”

He didn’t budge. He was effortlessly standing against your feeble attempt, hands in pockets and eyes on yours. 

“What did I say about calling me that?” He asked.

You gave up and looked at him. “Fine! I promise that I will never call you Todo ever again if you come to movie night.”

There was a pause.

“Liar.” 

And then a shrug.

“But fine. I’ll come.”

You first discovered that you were starting to fall for the boy during the winter.

You always thought that winter was the most beautiful time of year. Snow glittered the ground and casted the sky in bright whites and greys, lights for the holidays decked halls (or whatever the song says). 

And one afternoon, you found Shoto sitting alone.

He was sitting at a desk in one of the empty classrooms, staring out of the window, eyes watching the snow fall from the sky to the gound below. You found yourself at the doorway. 

Most of the others were gone for the holidays. It was winter break, after all.

“Please don’t just stare.” Todoroki interrupted the silence. 

“Sorry.” 

He didn’t lift his head as you walked to him, placing yourself in the seat in front of him. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing in particular.” He said. You knew that there was something going on in his mind, but you didn’t push it.

He finally glanced at you.

And that was your moment of realization. It was no drastic touch of fireworks, or static electricity that conducted at his touch. It was no bright flash of memories as your heart pounded.

It was the reflection in his eyes as he looked at you. You could see yourself in them, and that was the epiphany. The look of someone in love, and it was you.

You decided to ignore your realized feelings.

The love for him would remain to yourself. Mainly for the sake of friendship, but slightly because you knew that he did not feel the same way.

He realized that he felt for you very slowly. He didn’t know that it was love, at first.

He just knew that he felt very protective of you and he had never felt that with anyone before. He felt good with you by his side. 

He felt his chest flutter when you could ask him about his day; he felt his hands shake at his sides when you would grab his upper arm when you laughed.

Todoroki hadn’t noticed that he was in love with you until Deku pointed it out. It was two days after returning from winter break, and they were sitting in the dorms.

Izuku Midoriya was Shoto Todoroki’s self proclaimed best friend. Although Shoto was incredibly individualistic and would rather sit by himself than hold a long discussion, he didn’t mind a friend.

“Are you going to tell her that you’re in love with her?”

Shoto turned to him, confusion masking his features. “What do you mean?”

Deku giggled. He tilted his head. “You’re so funny.”

“I wasn’t making a joke.”

Deku laughed again. This time he turned to his friend with a slight smirk, a quip on the edge of his lips. “You’re in love with her. We talk about it all the time! You are there most of the time when we do.”

“Oh.” Oh.

You were laughing, tears close to spilling over your cheeks. Shoto even had a small smile.

Deku and Bakugou had just gotten into (another) argument. It was about something stupid, as it was more often than not. It was only a week into spring and you didn’t realize how accustomed you had gotten used to being in the dorms with only Shoto as company.

Katsuki Bakugou ended up calling Deku a series of names, and ended the argument with a solid, “This is why you eat alone at lunch, you piece of shit cumrag!”

And that is was caused a series of laughter through the classroom. Classes hadn’t begun yet, so you were sitting next to Mina Ashido and Hitoshi Shinso along with Todoroki and Tenya Iida.

Sensai Aizawa interrupted with a simple opening of the door.

“Get to your respective classrooms.”

A bunch of you got up, some with small smiles and some with fear of being yelled at. You left, too, but not without mouthing a small “piece of shit cumrag?” to Todoroki.

He still hid a smile even after you were gone.

“I think you’re handsome.” You told him one afternoon. 

He was in your dorm room. He spent a lot of time there, if he were to be honest. Sometimes Bakugou, or Mina, or Shinso or some other students he didn’t pay attention to would come in. You were good friends with Mina and Shinso from the other class, so Todoroki knew them by name at that point. 

But that day it was just the two of you. You had a movie playing as background noise. You were sitting next to him on your bed, centimeters between touching.

It took him by surprise, causing him to look at you with a raised brow.

“Thanks.” He responded, cautious. “What made you say that?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I was just thinking it so I said it.”

Your relationship with him was ninety percent you flirting with him and laughing and touching him and one percent him rolling his eyes with a smile. Even before your realized feelings, you found yourself naturally flirting with the boy.

“Well, I think you are handsome too.”

You chuckled at his attempted joke and pushed his head with your hand.

When you first became friends, he was startled at your endless flirtations. He had never met someone who flirted openly the way you did.

He knew that you did it for the tension, that you liked to tease. You flirted with everyone. But he felt kind of... different when he watched you flirt with other people.

You had joked about “exploding” with Bakugou, flirtations effortlessly releasing from your lips when Todoroki felt the need to leave.

“It’s called jealousy, dumbass.” Bakugou told him.

Being in love with Shoto Todoroki was much like being in love with silence.

It was being in love with a quiet library. It was sitting alone at the beach with only him beside you, no words between you. It was a breeze through leaves with no animals around to hear.

It was rummaging through old boxes and finding books you used to read. It was the taste of vanilla ice cream.

You were the one who broke through the silence.

“Can’t I spar with anyone else?” Todoroki asked Sensai Aizawa. The students all turned their attention to him.

It was some random training day. Three classes came together to spar and practice their quirks against each other, randomly assigned by the teachers. 

And when Aizawa said your name alongside Shoto Todoroki, you were excited. He, however, was not.

“No, your partner is picked.” Aizawa said. “Now get to it.”

“Sorry, but I will not be participating today.” Todoroki said as an announcement. “I would rather fail this than fight her. Thanks.”

You spun on your heels to face him. “You’re kidding.”

When he didn’t say anything, you stared him down. “Todo, it’s just sparring.”

“I don’t want to spar you.” He turned his attention back to the teachers. “Can I spar Deku? Or Bakugou? Someone more... powerful?”

You could not believe it. You chuckled humorlessly, causing some of the students to mutter under their breath to each other. 

“Someone more powerful?” You crossed your arms. “C’mon, let’s fight. You want someone more powerful, you’ve clearly never witnessed me pissed off. C’mon.”

“No.”

You let out another chuckle and rolled your eyes. “No?”

“No.”

“Fine.” Aizawa shrugged. “Todoroki, you’re with Deku. Bakugou, calm down your new partner before she gets as angry as you.”

“No, sir.” You whipped your head back to the front. “I think I’m good too.”

You were livid. You had never felt that much anger and embarrassment erupt through your body. It started as a small irritation, but soon you were burning with the heat of anger.

Shoto Todoroki followed you.

“Hey, wait.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” You didn’t turn around as you stormed to your room.

He didn’t stop following you, turning through the corridors behind you. You might as well be steaming through the ears. 

“Why are you so mad at me?”

“Because I’m in love with you!” You confessed, pure anger diminishing your filter. You couldn’t stop words from falling from your lips as you turned to him. “Because I’m in love with you. And it’s humiliating to basically be called weak by the guy you’re in love with in front of everyone. Because I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends. And that’s why I didn’t want to fight you.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Just fuck off, okay.”

No one had seen you for days following.

Most figured that you didn’t want to see your best friend, others made up stories of you leaving campus. None of them knew that you had confessed to said best friend and got nothing in response other than “we are friends”.

You were wallowing in self pity and anger turned sadness. 

“If you’re going to drop out, do it.” Shinso said. 

He was one of the people you didn’t mind still having around. He had no correlation to the two-toned boy you were avidly avoiding. And, to be honest from both sides, he liked to have someone who wasn’t scared to talk to him.

“I’m not dropping out. It’s been two days.” You threw a pillow at him. He caught it. “Two days is not a long time to get over the love of your life.”

You left your slump after another couple of days.

When you emerged from your pity party, you looked like garbage. You tried your best, you truly did, but you couldn’t get rid of the bags under your eyes and the exhaustion on your features.

You hadn’t even cried. You were just tired, and tired of being angry.

You managed to avoid Todoroki for a majority of the day, though you did manage to get stares. No one was subtle at UA.

Until lunch.

The second you entered the lunch room, you knew that you should walk right back out.

As soon as you walked in, your eyes found Todoroki’s. It didn’t take long. You always found your way to him.

You immediately looked away and sat next to Mina and Bakugou.

"You have to tell her now.”

They were all there: Deku, Bakugou, Kirishima, Uraraka, Iida, Tsu, Sero, Denki and Jiro. And all of them were staring at Shoto Todoroki.

“I...”

“No excuses.”

“You have to tell her.”

“Did you see her, idiot?”

“She looks miserable.”

“You gotta tell her.”

“This is peer pressure.” Todoroki stated.

“Yes.” Deku nodded. “But it’s the best kind.”

"Hi.”

Your step stuttered and you froze in your spot. You found him standing at your room door, hands clasped behind his back. 

You couldn’t help but wonder how long he had been waiting for you to return to your room.

“Hi.”

“This is awkward.” He said.

“It is a bit awkward, huh?” You shifted on your heels.

“I wanted to tell you that I am sorry.” He said. You started to interrupt, but he stopped you, “Please don’t say anything until I’m finished. I am sorry. I should have just sparred you, it was not that big of a deal. I made it one.

“You are a big part of my life. You have always been a friend to me, and because of my recent adaptation with my quirk... I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s why I didn’t. Not because you aren’t strong, your quirk is not weak in the slightest, but because I was worried about accidentally hurting you.

“I should have told you that instead of just being dismissive. I realize that. I didn’t realize, though, that it would make you as upset as it did. 

“And I also should have told you that I love you, too.”

You shook your head. He could have said a lot more, but you stopped listening. You had to face downward instead of looking him in the face.

“You’re shaking your head.”

“I’m sorry.” You held back a smile as you looked back to him. “It’s just... I wasn’t expecting you to tell me that you love me.”

“I didn’t realize it as quickly as I should have.”

“You could have taken a hundred years.” You reach for his wrists. “Thank you for your apology, I know that you had to be talked into it.”

His eyes flickered between yours. “You know me pretty well.”

“I know you better than most.”

The start of the relationship was the happiest you had ever been. You understood why people called it the “honeymoon phase”. 

You were nothing but smiles, and everyone was surprised to see him smile and gleam at your presence too. 

Neither of you were for public displays of affection, but one thing the both of you did like was holding hands. You liked the feeling of his fingers intertwined with his, and his warmth or coolness depending on which hand you found yourself holding (Yes, his quirk did that. It was kind of cool.)

He liked the feeling of your hand in his, too. He liked having your support, the structure of you holding onto him.

He also noticed how you didn’t flirt with anyone else anymore. You were still pretty outgoing and kind and funny, but you stopped your funny flirtations with the others. Not with him, though.

“Dang, my boyfriend’s looking sexy today.” You jokingly nudged him.

He knew that he looked the same as he did every day.

Shoto Todoroki rushed into your room with tears staining his cheeks.

You instantly shot up in your bed, staring wide eyed and fully awake despite being asleep minutes before. You didn’t need to know what time it was. 

“Todo?”

He didn’t say anything as he just came over to you and planted his body next to yours. You didn’t say anything either as he curled into your body with his head on your chest.

You laid back down and took him down with you. You wrapped the covers around you both and ran your hands through his mixed hair. 

You didn’t care about a boy being in your room in the midst of the night. You didn’t care about getting caught, or someone asking questions when he left in the morning.

You cared about your boyfriend’s tears that stained your shirt. 

“Get some sleep, you’re okay.” You whispered to him and planted a kiss to his forehead. 

That was one thing that Shoto loved about you.

You didn’t ask him questions, you didn’t push him to explain himself and his feelings to you. He was aware of his social constipation, and you didn’t force him to speak about things he didn’t want to.

It was the little things.

Kissing came naturally between you two.

The first kiss was nothing special, but it was the most special thing for the both of you. It was a goodnight kiss, one that he planted on your lips as if it were a second thought when in actuality it was something he had been considering since he woke up that morning.

It was a small peck on your lips, a second when everything seemed to fit perfectly together.

After that, the kisses were often in the absence of others. He would kiss you goodnight before going to his own room, or you would steal kisses between homework and study nights. 

He found out that you liked to be kissed on the neck, so he did it more often. Every once in a while, he would sneak one while giving you a hug after lunch.

It was everything you asked for and more. The butterflies never left either of your stomachs every time your lips connected.

Growing up with Shoto Todoroki was full of love and light.

You watched as he grew into his powers. You watched as he grew stronger and lighter, watched as he slowly started to become confident in himself. You watched him become himself, finally.

And he watched you, too. Watched you grow alongside him, become a better person and hero. He watched as you became confident in him, too.

You grew together. You grew into individuals and a couple all at once.

It was the beauty of love: everything was all at once and not at all.

“You should move in with me.” Todoroki told you over dinner one night.

You were in a fancy restaurant, and it was a date that he planned. You thought that he might propose, you had an inclination that Deku had been hinting at it for the last couple of months.

“That was more of a statement than a question, Todo.” You took a sip of the expensive wine. 

“More of an observation.”

You giggled and took his hands in yours. “Do you want me to move in with you? Or is this something one of the guys put into your head.”

“If I did everything they wanted me to, we would be married with five kids by now.” He joked. “But I am serious about you moving in.”

“Then fine.” You moved back in your chair. “I’ll move in with you.”

Growing apart was something unexpected and unfathomable until it happened.

It was slow, small things that made you notice the distance. The sleeping facing apart at night, the small pecks instead of passionate kisses. Saying “goodbye” more often than “I love you”.

It was different, to be in love as teenagers and to be in love as adults.

One of the first fights you ever had was a rough one. It started with an argument about safety, and then it spiraled into a fight about more than that.

You were yelling while he was frustrated. He rolled his eyes at your angry taunts, only egging you on. You couldn’t get your point across and neither could he.

“Can we just drop it?”

And that was the end of it. You didn’t bring up the fact that he said “that’s why I was in class 1-A and you weren’t” and he didn’t bring up the fact that you said that his “family trauma had nothing to do with you now”. 

The next several days were full of tension and near silence.

In the midst of the distance between you two, he came home late one night with gloom drenched over him.

He didn’t say anything as he ran into your arms, and you took him in without a second thought.

“You’re home now, it’s okay.” You told him with your voice muffled against his chest.

You felt him nod against you. He grabbed you tighter and pulled you impossibly close to his body. 

Neither of you thought about the tension from the previous fight. Because you were overwhelmed in love for each other.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered. Your hand still found solitude in his hair. 

Todoroki shook his head and brought himself back. He held his hands on your hips, maintaining his touch on you. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You placed your hands on his face, wiping away stray tears. “Some days are harder than others.”

He kissed you then. His lips matched with yours similar to how puzzle pieces line perfectly with each other. This kiss was soft and bound with his love for you, passion behind it and breaking through the cracks.

You and Todoroki had done a lot of things in the past. Turns out, he was pretty kinky, not that you complained. He had tied you up; you’ve been blindfolded and spanked. Name it and you two have probably tried it.

This time you could tell that there was something different, he kissed you with softness that was usually found only in aftercare. 

You let him lead you to the bedroom, let him lay you on the bed. Your lips never left his for more than a second or two. 

“Todo...”

“Shhh, don’t speak.” He planted kisses down your neck. He kissed to your colar and left the lightest kisses to your breasts. 

Your back arched when he kissed your ribs, and you felt him smile as he kissed your stomach. His hand traced your thighs so lightly that he was nearly hovering.

“Let me use you for the night.” He looked back up to you with pleading eyes. “Please.”

You didn’t think twice, you just nodded. You had done it before, and if you were honest you didn’t mind. That was all he needed to pull his hands down, taking his underwear with it. 

His size never ceased to make you nervous and mouth water all at once. Since high school, Todoroki became bigger in stature. He was buff, tall, and just overall... large. And his cock was not much different.

His fingers rubbed you only twice before he lined himself up.

On instinct, you put your hand against his thigh in efforts to keep him out. He looked down at you. You brought your hand back, giving him the go ahead.

You weren’t wet enough to take him, but he bottomed out either way. The pain made you ache and your back arch again.

“Shit,” You moaned. He brought himself out and back in, slamming into you. “Fuck!”

He was splitting you in half. And you wanted him to.

You would wake up to cold sheets and fall asleep to silence. 

You would work alone with a smile plastered on your face only to come home and feel the emptiness.

“You would be perfect for the position here!” The voice on the other side of your phone said, muffled only slightly by the speaker. “We look forward to your decision! Take as much time as you need.”

It was the happiest you had been in a long time, bringing a bright feat to your mind at the thought of moving somewhere else with such an amazing opportunity.

Some of the divisions in Europe had teamed with the States. They offered you a pro hero job that fit your quirk perfectly, and they wanted you to come by the next month.

It would be faultless.

When the door opened to signal that your boyfriend had arrived home, you rushed out to greet him. “Guess what?”

He blinked up at you for only a millisecond. “What?”

“I got offered a job!” You couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s overseas, so I want us to talk about it.”

“That’s great.”

His voice nearly mocked your excitement, monotone and deep. He was bored. 

Your heart shattered. “ You don’t have to come with, of course; but if you don’t want to come we can figure out long distance. It would be--”

“Why don’t we talk about this more later, yeah?” 

You were frozen in place. You wanted a bit of excitement. You wanted a hug, a congratulations. He knew that you had always wanted to travel, that this was the perfect opportunity for you to chase your dreams. 

Your entire mood dropped the second he shit all over that.

“Yeah, yeah.” He kissed your cheek as he walked past you. “Welcome home.”

Talking to Shoto Todoroki was not much different than talking to a brick wall.

You would voice your concerns only for him to wave you off. He would tell you not to worry, he would tell you that everything is fine when it clearly was not.

“We should talk.” You told him as you readied yourself for bed. 

“Can we talk tomorrow?” He asked with his eyes closed. “It’s been a long day.”

The same response you would get every day.

“Sure.”

You would talk the next day.

Falling out of love was much like falling into it.

It was turning off a light before bed, the lightbulb taking it’s time to dim out. It was watching the water drain from the bathtub until the last drop fell. It was a forest fire in the rain.

It was redecorating your bedroom and liking the new layout much more. It was the feeling of drinking water after running suicides. It was sitting down after standing for hours.

It was a cherry blossom in the spring, only to disappear come fall.

Because falling out love is falling out of everything.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t do it anymore.” You told your boyfriend of years.

You expected him to question your reasoning. You expected an argument, a fight. You expected him to want you to stay. For him to ask you to stay.

But he didn’t.

Shoto Todoroki only stared at where your hands were just connected in his and said, “okay.”

You had placed your ring into his palm. 

You stood to collect some of your things, just little things that you were going to take with you for the night. You expected him to watch you. You expected him to catch your eye at least once.

He didn’t.

He didn’t move at all, still staring at his hands that stayed clasped on the table. He didn’t look up at you, didn’t acknowledge you putting your shoes on.

You were at the door when he finally jumped from his seat and spun around. He raced to the hallway of the apartment complex.

“Why?”

You froze in your spot. Your heart broke in your chest, splintering every bone in its wake.

You turned around.

“Why?” You repeated. 

“Why?” He visibly swallowed. “Why can’t you do it anymore?”

Your eyes flickered between his. You could see the unshed tears lining his eyes, and you could feel yours as well. But you mainly witnessed his confusion, his anger that burned beneath the heterochromatic eyes you fell for.

“Why can’t I do it anymore?” You repeated again, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Shoto, we’ve been walking on eggshells for the past year! I have been holding my breath every single day, not knowing if I were going to see the warm or cold side of you that day. We would go weeks without talking, without looking at each other. Do you really want that in a relationship?”

Todoroki started to make an excuse, to form an explanation. But no words could come out. 

He started to speak your name when you stepped closer to him.

You took his hands into his again, and he felt as though he was simply a speak of sand on a beach beneath your touch. 

“Shoto, I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you.” You stared at the intertwined fingers. He wished you would look up at him. “And you claim that you love me back, but I truly don’t think that you do.

“Because what our relationship has been... that hasn’t been love. It’s been pain, over and over and repeated again and again. For you to be in love, it means letting me in. Letting me get close to you and know your thoughts and feelings.

“And you have never allowed me the pleasure of getting to know you.”

You finally looked up at him with those beautiful eyes. The beautiful eyes that were filled with tears at that moment, the beautiful eyes he caused that much pain to.

As he stands in front of you, Todoroki imagines a life without you in it.

He imagines a world in which he never met you, never found friendship in you. Never fell in love with you. It is nearly impossible, you are such a profound person in his life.

He wonders if he can forget about how your smile makes his stomach churn.

“Do you want to come with?” You offer. You motion to the streets behind you. “Do you want to come to dinner, too? I’m sure the guys won’t mind.”

Todoroki hesitates. 

Your presence alone is overwhelming. It’s been years and he can feel his heart pound in his chest when your eyes meet his. He can still feel his head cloud at the sound of your voice.

He desperately wants to hug you, to feel your skin against his again.

“I don’t know if...”

“Oh, please no stupid excuses.” You say. “Please?”

And then, “I miss you.”

He doesn’t wait a second more, “Yes. I’ll come.”

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