#chip away at projects. have a laugh. sounds nice

[ilguna]

☼ grim (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you were going to wait to tell Finnick you're hurt, but you can't.

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, weapon usage, gore.

wc; 2.2k

–

The streets of the Capitol have never been so eerie before. They were designed to be brightly colored, even the sidewalks that line the asphalt are tiny mosaics. Each street is themed after a different fantasy, it’s like a rainbow threw up all of its colors, took a breath, and then continued.

A couple weeks ago, this neighborhood would’ve been filled with the people that live here. They woke up later in the day, worked for a few hours, went shopping and came home to a full fridge and not a single worry in the world. They were excited for the next Quarter Quell and the hell that would follow it.

And now they’ve deserted the place they call home.

It’s almost wrong, the way that the buildings have been destroyed. A number of pods have been set off prior to your squad’s arrival to ensure that you’ll travel safely to the mansion. Which means that the building’s paint has gone from brand new to smokey from the fires. There’s large chips on the exterior, ruining its pristine condition. And most, if not all, of the windows have been shattered onto the mosaics.

The sound of glass crunching beneath your black boots is the only noise that fills the air. Everyone has been lost in thought for the past hour, following Boggs through the streets, hoping that he’s leading you in the right direction. Supposedly, with the device he has, he’s able to locate every pod that you’re approaching, can tell what they contain, and he’ll steer you away if they’re too dangerous.

You’ve been on the tips of your toes, waiting for a mistake. It’s too quiet out here, it feels like there’s someone watching you around every corner. When you told Finnick about the creepy feeling, he did close to nothing to help ease the tension from your body. He told you there’s a good chance that you’re right.

He hasn’t been very comforting as of late. 

As much as you’d like to be mad at him for it, you can’t really blame him. There’s been a tornado of shit that’s been going around you two since the Quell was announced in the winter. It’s a miracle that you’ve managed to stay together through it. After what happened in the arena, you thought for sure that was going to be the end of (Y/n) and Finnick.

Boggs suddenly stops at the opening of another block, a ring of apartment buildings with a nice courtyard right in the center. The group of you gather around as he pulls out the Holo so you can see a projection of the block and where the pods are inside. You cross your arms, listening to him explain how you’re going to do it.

There’s a gunfire pod positioned a third of the way down, above an apartment awning. He wants to trigger it with bullets, which means for a volunteer. As for a second pod, it’s at the far end, almost the next corner. That pod requires a body to set it off, needing another volunteer.

Several people raise their hands, not including you. Ever since you found out last week that you’re here for decoration, you’ve been doing the bare minimum. You’re not going to put yourself in unnecessary danger just so they can film you and manipulate the country into thinking you’re actually helping. Besides, no matter who raises their hands and their capabilities for the situation, Boggs tries hard not to call on any of the victors. Star Squad professionals, only.

Katniss gets sent to Messalla to get her makeup done for the filming. You follow Boggs’ directions to position yourself for when the pods get set off. It takes a couple minutes for the camera crew to get the angle they want. You watch as Messalla throws a few smoke charges to make an atmosphere for the video, and resist the urge to laugh. It’s comical.

On Katniss’ lead, you follow her through the smoke and down the path. Everyone has been asked to shoot a window, but when Finnick sees that you’re not participating, he does it for you. Gale’s the one that’s been selected to hit the pod, causing the rest of you to duck into doorways or flattening against the colorful stones in order to avoid being hit by the bullets. 

When Boggs feels like it’s not going to react to any movement, he orders you forward, only for Cressida to stop everyone before they move and ruin her vision. She wants close-up shots of your reactions, falling to the ground, grimacing, diving into the doorways. 

You opt not to participate, which it met with a stern look from Boggs. You two have had plenty of conversations these past couple of days about Coin’s wants and how you need to follow them. He stopped bringing it up after you kept repeatedly telling him that she is not in control over you, therefore he isn’t either. The one reason why you’re still part of the squad is for Finnick, no one else.

“Pull it together, Four-Five-One,” Boggs tells them firmly, they’ve been laughing at Messalla for trying to reenact how he felt. You look up from where you’re rolling a bullet back and forth on the mosaics. Boggs is backing away, Holo in his hand as he tries to see through the haze to find the next pod, his foot landing on one of the orange tiles.

You want the tile sink.

An ear-splitting explosion shakes the ground, as you take Finnick through the doorway with you. You hit the carpet, struggling to breathe through the toxic air. A second explosion goes off nearby, your ears begin to ring. You take in a breath, and you’re immediately met with a sharp stabbing pain.

You stop, turning away from Finnick as you try to see around your vest where the pain is coming from. Your face twists, fingers searching along your upper right side, around your ribs. You’re met with torn fabric, so you gently press into the exposed skin.

You let out a cry, gritting your teeth. You slam your head back against the carpet, eyes shut to prevent the dizziness that’s beginning to make the room spin. Your fingertips are met with a smooth object, and the moment you prod it, you almost black out.

“(Y/n)?” Finnick’s voice is loud, hands touching your face, “Are you okay?”

You let out a noise, wincing, “Yeah, I just lost my breath there for a second.” You extend your hand to block his view of where you’re touching. When you open your eyes, you can see that he’s searching your face. “I’m okay, go check on them.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, go.” You hold your hand out, and he pulls you into a sitting position.

Finnick gets to his feet, and ducks out of the doorway and onto the street. You can hear screaming, panicked voices being traded back and forth. There’s a dark liquid traveling your way, resembling the consistency of blood.

You pull your hand away from your wound, and find your fingers are coated in red, too. There’s something lodged in your side, it’s causing you to bleed. If you don’t take it out, you risk the chance of more damage as you move. When you take it out, you’ll be opening the floodgates for blood. This is not a winning situation.

You slowly get to your feet, being sure not to jostle too hard. Instead of going out of the door, you travel further inside the green apartment, heading for the mirror that sits in the hallway. You have a sick feeling that you already know what’s inside of your body, and it’s confirmed when you lift your arm.

A shard of glass, large and sharp enough to pierce your skin. You grit your teeth, taking a few deep breaths, before you grip and yank. The lightheadedness is instant, you find yourself on your knees, slamming your fist into the carpet to combat the pain.

“(Y/n)?” Finnick’s voice is faraway, he must still be outside. “We need to get moving, now!”

“I’m coming!” You shout back, wrapping your left hand around your chest to press flat against the open wound. It’ll work for now, you’ll tell them as soon as you’re somewhere safe.

You slide up the wall, focusing on your breathing. When you step foot out onto the street, you’re met with murder. Boggs is laying on the street, both of his legs gone below his thighs. The blood on the sidewalk belongs to him, and it’s sprayed up the side of the building.

“Prepare to retreat!” Jackson shouts.

“We can’t!” Finnick shouts back, he’s got an unconscious Messalla in his arms, “Look!”

You turn to look where you’d just come in. A black, oily liquid geysers from the street, and high into the air, raining down between the buildings. It coats the side so thick that you can’t see the bright pink underneath.

Gale works together with Leeg to shoot a path to the other end of the block, anticipating other unmarked bombs. It’s right of them to do this, they set off another one about ten yards away. 

You take off after them, ignoring the pain that surges through your body with every heavy step. You can feel the blood leaking between your fingers, making your skin slippery and hard to cover.

Homes and Katniss each grab one arm that belongs to Boggs and drag him down the street the best they can. Boggs is screaming, not bothering to try and stay quiet. You guess noise doesn’t matter, not with the bombs, the gunfire, and the giant wave of black oil rolling toward you.

They don’t make it far, there’s a shout, and the sound of someone hitting the stones. You turn to see Peeta over Katniss, the butt of his gun aimed over her head. Mitchell tackles Peeta, managing to pin him to the ground, but Peeta’s still got strength despite the torture he went through in the Capitol.

He gets his feet underneath Mitchell and launches him further downhill. A loud snap fills the air as he triggers a pod, four cables break through the stones, stringing Mitchell above the street. It’s mere seconds before he’s covered in blood, because of the barbs that line the wires.

You pause briefly, but then your feet start moving again when you’re choked by the smell of the oil. You follow after Gale and Leeg, who have managed to shoot the lock off a corner building, allowing you to get inside. You watch from the doorway as they aim at the wires that hold Mitchell’s net, hoping to get him down.

There’s several people on Peeta to restrain him. Katniss has gotten back to her feet, grabbing Boggs with Homes, they’re the next ones to make it into the apartment. Castor and Pollux drag in a screaming Peeta, Jackson handcuffs him, and they manage to get him into a closet without much effort.

You travel further into the apartment when Finnick gets inside with Messalla. You follow them through the living room, past the hallway and into the kitchen where everyone else has gathered. Leeg, Cressida and Gale are the last three to make it inside, slamming the kitchen door shut and stuffing towels beneath the opening to avoid the toxic fumes of the oil. 

“Mitchell?” Homes asks, Leeg shakes her head.

You lean over the counter, wincing because the pain is getting worse. You stomp your foot, squeezing your eyes shut.

Peeta’s feet are slamming into the closet door, trying to break it down. You all quiet down to listen, you’re sure a few of them are bracing themselves for when he succeeds. With each quick, they grow quieter, weaker. And then he stops.

“He’s gone?” Finnick asks, you look up to see they’re talking about Boggs. “We need to get out of here. Now. We just set off a streetful of pods. You can bet they’ve got us on surveillance tapes.”

“Count on it.” Castor says. “All the streets are covered by surveillance cameras. I bet they set off the wave manually when they saw up taping the propo.”

“Our radio communicators went dead almost immediately. Probably an electromagnetic pulse device. But I’ll get us back to camo. Give me the Holo.” Jackson reaches for the device.

“Finnick.” You call, he looks up, face twisting.

“You’re pale.”

“I’m bleeding.” You turn your body to the side, lifting your hand for him to see.

“Holy shit.” He pushes through the kitchen to get where you’re standing in the corner, “Homes, will you—?”

“Yes.” He pops out the first aid kit, setting it on the counter.

“What happened?”

“It was a glass shard, I thought I’d be able to handle it for a little while, but I’m dizzy.” You tilt your head back.

“Okay, okay,” He rinses the wound, you let out a groan between your teeth. “It’s a good thing you didn’t wait, (Y/n).”

“Listen, both of us have gone through worse, I thought I’d be able to handle a little blood.”

“Except this isn’t little.” He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I’m going to cover it, but we have to stitch it as soon as we get the chance.”

You make a face, “Great.”

“It’s that or bleed to death.”

“I’m already halfway there.”

Finnick gives you a look, "I don't think that's funny right now."

You touch the side of his face, "I'll let you know if I bleed through or if I'm in any significant pain. I won't keep it to myself, babe. I promise."

"Good, because we're wasting time."

[sushiwriterhere]

two: required texts

flight path

summary: "It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake."  rating: mature (eventually explicit, 18+ mdni) pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader word count: ~6.9k lol warnings: angst, masturbation ment, enemies to lovers!, college au!, eventual smut, hangman being hangman, no use of y/n.  notes: dedicated to @waklman bc u entertain my insane dms <3 pls pls pls let me know what you think everyone!! masterlist here this fic is being posted from my queue while I have little access to the internet. any tag list requests/fic replies will be slow; thanks!

"Jake said you were coming to our party this Friday?" Bradley's smile is so genuine, so unlike everything about Jake, "Never thought you'd agree but it'll be good to see you."

Sometimes you regret making things so sour with Jake, because Bradley’s actually really sweet. He’s been letting you and Jake duke it out about your project at their breakfast bar counter while he cooks in the background. He’s kind of always on FaceTime with someone, usually a girl, and he even makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. Something about the flakey sea salt just does it.

Bradley is the kind of guy you think you might settle down with one day. Bradley doesn’t throw his hands up in the air at you in frustration when you argue about what exactly qualifies as sustainability, and he certainly does not make deals with you to try and get you to come to frat parties.

That being said, he looks so happy to hear that you might be joining them that you really don’t have the heart to knock him down. 

“Oh, yeah, Jake–” You consider your words carefully. 

Jake hadn’t explicitly said that the deal was to be kept hush-hush, but you didn’t really know how much you wanted people knowing that you were willing to trade your introvert lifestyle just to ensure a good grade. Plus, it felt just a smidge pathetic that that was what you’d caved to. 

“Jake told me he talked you into it in exchange for going with your lead on your project, but it doesn’t seem to really be working.” Bradley’s laugh fills the hallways of the lab and you feel yourself tense up. 

God, you really did get the short end of the stick if it was that obvious that Jake wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain at all. 

“Yeah... well...” You trail off, twisting your hands in front of you until someone calls you name at the end of the hallway.

Bradley looks at you, his gaze a little too knowing, before you both wave goodbye and you take off toward the sound of your supervisor’s voice. 

Running into Bradley is one thing, he’s nice and doesn’t make you want to poke your eyeballs out, getting to the end of the hallway to see Jake standing in front of your professor with an easy-going smile on his face is another. Fantastic.

“Mr. Seresin here was just telling me that the two of you have been hard at work,” Jake bounces his shoulders just a little behind your professor’s back, as if rubbing it in how much he’d obviously been talking himself up in the few seconds before, “I have high expectations for the two of you.”

You resist the urge to call him a dumbass in front of the man who’s probably going to single handedly get you into MIT, and school your features into something a little more school-appropriate. You are not going to let him screw this, especially this, up for you. 

“Of course, Professor Simmons, we’re certainly putting our all into it.” Jake mock gags behind the professor’s back for a split second before he turns around, and then he’s the picture of academic excellence.

Simmons wanders off in the way he usually does, leaving just you and Jake standing in the hallway. Distantly, you know that you’re technically on the clock, but you’re well-liked enough that you can get away with a little time theft. No one’s had any complaints on time sheet day so far.

Jake rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, smile ever present. For a moment, he looks a bit unsure of himself, but the expression is gone even quicker than it came.

“What are you doing in the labs, Jake. Don’t you have some other poor girl to harass?” You cross your arms and stare expectantly at him– you’d rather spend your stolen time reading the New Yorker on your phone and not dealing with Jake Seresin.

“Was just dropping by to chat with Simmons, you know how it is. Office hours, etcetera, etcetera.” He’s at ease once again, his gaze trained fully on you.

“Why did you say etc like that?”

“Did you just say ‘e-t-c’?”

For a moment there’s complete and entire silence, the type that happens right before exams are handed out. Then, Jake starts howling with laughter, completely doubled over. You watch in horror, listening to his voice echo around the sterile hallways and probably right into every professor’s office. 

Once he’s done completely humiliating you, he stands up and wipes at his eyes, “Sorry, you just—you were lecturing me the other day about ‘histrionics’ and you’ve never heard etcetera said aloud have you?”

You bristle, teeth gritted, “I’ll have you know, you can say it either way.” He doesn’t need to know, but you haven’t heard it aloud.

“Oh, I was also looking for you.” His abrupt change of subject makes you nervous. 

You and Jake have admittedly been spending a lot of time together. After your first few hours at the library, Jake’s been making a habit of being around you. Like, a lot.

First, he’s always sitting next to you in your shared classes. You’re only taking four, and sharing three of those is just a lot of Jake-time. He mostly leaves you alone, thankfully, but he’s taken to poking you to get your attention for his random thoughts, turning his computer your direction to show you a funny meme someone sent him, and occasionally reaching over to doodle on your notes. He also always uses your shared seat rest.

You don’t know why you let him do it. But, if you were brutally honest, it’s kind of nice having him around. Despite all your petty disagreements, Jake’s a bright personality, and it makes your stomach flip in a funny way when he spots you across the quad and waves wildly to get your attention, or when he buys you lunch before your library sessions. You do keep bickering about nearly everything though.

That’s the second thing. Now, after your two classes together on Mondays and Wednesdays, the two of you will go to the library and study til the wee hours of the morning. On more than one occasion, he’s bought you coffee to sustain your hours of staring at complex equations and trying to apply to grad schools. 

(“What grad school are you applying to now?” 

“Nunya.”

“Okay, unless the top fifteen rankings have been updated since the last time I checked there is no grad school that—“

“Nunya business.”

“Very funny. Real mature. You’re really childish y’know that.”

“I’m childish? Remind me which one of us spent eighty five dollars at a candy store last week after taking forty five minutes to decide.”

“There’s a lot of options!”)

You two don’t make a lot of conversation but it’s getting easier to talk to him like he’s a normal person, like he’s anyone else. You still keep your cards close to your chest, though, unready to let him in fully and still not entirely trusting him. 

Once, you’d shared a bit about how much pressure you felt to get into a top graduate program, to ensure that your parents were taken care of as an only child. Jake had been surprisingly empathetic, and had shared some about his home life, which you suspected wasn’t as idyllic as he made it seem, but it had made you smile. 

“Youngest, with four sisters, I was a little doll,” He’d laughed. He never talked about his parents, really.

It had been an odd moment of peace between the two of you until he had teased you for the way you read out an equation as you were checking your work, and then it was back to trading barbs.

The third thing is that he hadn’t invited you to a party til this week, about four into the semester. Before he had, it hung over your head like an anvil–ominous, always present, and not exactly forthcoming on when it was planning on crushing you like a bug. 

He’d been too nice about it, assuring you that whatever you wore would be fine (“Just think... slutty?” “Don’t be sexist, Jake.” “What! That’s what the sorority girls say.” “Well, are you a sorority girl?” “I can be if you want me to be, sweets.” “You have issues.”). He’d also said he’d keep an eye out on you but that his frat brothers were all great people, and besides, Bradley would be around. You don’t really want to share how it makes you feel that Bradley had asked you if you really were attending.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re coming on Friday.” His smile softens into something more genuine than his usual wild grin. “Was worried I might’ve scared you off.”

You huff, “I’m not scared.”

The way he looks at you in that moment makes you want to shove him so he’ll stop staring at you, a combination of pity and something else you’re afraid to identify, “No, not at all.”

Then, his demeanor changes back into something that’s a bit more familiar to you as he tucks his hands into his pockets and turns to leave, “Besides, if you don’t come, we’re doing our entiiiire project on Naval mechanics. Bye!”

He’s gone before you can yell at him.

-

This isn’t who you are–outfits strewn all over the floor of your room, music blaring from your phone where it’s charging in the corner, a layer of nervous sweat starting to coat your forehead and palms. Nothing fits right or in a way that doesn’t make you want to lose your mind. 

For a moment, you wish that you were a sorority girl, surrounded by women who know all the cultural rules of what you’re about to walk into. It’s not in a “I’m not like other girls” way, but more in a “my parties consist of wine and boardgames”. You are excited, but you also just feel stupid. 

You jump about half a foot in the air when your music cuts off all of a sudden and is replaced by the someone singing “save a horse, ride a cowboy” at far too many decibels. Scrambling, you grab your phone from the far side of your bed and see that it’s Jake trying to FaceTime.

“When did you change your ringtone?” Is the first thing you say when you pick up, endlessly irritated. “Your voice is terrible, by the way.”

Jake just laughs, “Oh, it absolutely is not. And you left your phone unlocked when you went to the bathroom two weeks ago, it was the only logical course of action. How have you not noticed til now?”

“I keep my phone on silent like a normal person.” You try to angle the camera so he can’t see the fact that you’re only in a sports bra and that you are absolutely not dressed despite the fact that you need to leave relatively soon.

“Again with this normal person thing, sweets,” He looks like he’s walking through the frat house as you hear people in the background, and you have half a mind to ask if Bradley’s around but decide against it. Something tells you Jake would be, well, weird about it. “You have got to be the least normal person I know, and that’s saying something.”

The absolutely unimpressed look on your face makes him laugh, and you almost hang up until you remember that he could potentially be helpful with your predicament. He wasn’t helpful last time but maybe this time he will be. He at least knows more about what girls are supposed to wear to this stuff.

“Jake...” You start, unsure of how to even ask. 

‘Oh hey Jake, how am I supposed to dress slutty for the frat party you cajoled me into going to because this is really out of my comfort zone and I’m this close to just telling you we can do your stupid Naval aircraft idea so that I don’t have to deal with this’ is a decidedly bad start.

“Sweets...” He croons back at you over the phone as he sets you down on a bathroom counter. 

It’s then that you realize that he’s been shirtless this entire time, and is still very much shirtless. Look, you may have a deep dislike for Jake Seresin as a person, but you’re not blind. You have eyes. And your eyes are telling you that Jake is absolutely so fucking fine that you have sort of forgotten your question. 

He’s absentmindedly applying shaving cream to his face and bustling around the bathroom while opening drawers and humming to himself. You remain silent. 

You just sort of stare at him for a few seconds before he raises an eyebrow at you. It’s then that you realize you’re holding your phone at an atrocious angle and you’re supposed to be asking him how to dress for this and showing him the insides of your nostrils is definitely not going to be doing you any favors.

“Sweets, did you have something you were going to say or are you just going to spend the next thirty minutes checking me out?” Jake says it so nonchalantly it almost makes you hang up, but you’re caught off guard by how something as simple as watching him shave on FaceTime can feel so endearing and domestic.

“Very funny. I was going to tell you you have something sticking out of your nose but I guess I won’t now.” You huff, hoping it’ll distract him from the last two minutes of silence.

At the very least, it works. Jake frantically tries to figure out what’s danging from his nose while you try and regroup. 

“I need your help picking an outfit.” It’s dramatic, but it feels like a weight off your chest to say it, “I just– Well, it’s just that nothing looks good and I hate this.”

Jake sets his razor down and leans close to his phone so you can see only his face and nothing else, “Lemme see what’cha got, sweets.”

The next twenty minutes are, somehow, not entirely excruciatingly painful. Jake immediately vetoes every single one of your business casual outfits (“You are not wearing slacks to a frat party, sweets, be serious.”) but he’s nice about it. When you dive deep into your closet to pull out a box of items you haven’t thought about since you bought them freshman year, you really start to reconsider how much you don’t want to work on Naval mechanics. 

“Okay, you can’t be mean, I bought these freshman year in a moment of weakness.” You can feel how hot your face is and you barely manage to get through the sentence without stammering or hanging up on him.

You lay out the tops on your bedding–Jake had already approved of a pair of jeans you hardly ever wore. These pieces are much more party-oriented than anything else you regularly wear, and you remember how for a weekend freshman year you’d felt so alienated, so weird, that you’d spent almost three-hundred dollars on going out tops. You’d returned most of them but the ones in front of you you’d kept in secret hope maybe you’d get to wear them. 

“You are a liar.” Jake’s voice comes softly from your phone and you frown.

“I literally just asked you to not be mean. You can’t even not be mean when—” 

“Sweets, any guy here would pass away at the sight of you in any of these,” He says and you make sure the camera isn’t on you so you can contort your face into a silent scream, “Talkin’ about, ‘I have nothing to wear’.”

“Drama queen.” It’s all you can say, but the thought of him passing away at the sight of you? That might be more appealing than you’d like to admit.

-

God, it’s so fucking loud in here. You managed to arrive fashionably late, as Jake advised. Now, you’re just sort of standing by the doorway, unsure of where to go or who to talk to. 

Then, all of a sudden, Jake appears next to you, all bright eyes and white teeth as he bobs along to the music. He grabs your arm and pulls you into an excessively tight hug, one that smooshes your face into his chest and traps your arms at your sides. You try not to breathe in too hard, but you can’t really avoid smelling him (like a fucking weirdo). You’re only slightly disappointed to note that Jake smells really good. 

“Sweets! I thought you’d bailed!” He exclaims, letting you go only slightly so he can take a look at your face. “When did you get here?”

“Um, like ten minutes ago?” You try and push out of his arms but he’s got a strong grip on you–glancing to the side you see that he’s grasped his elbows so you’re completely stuck.

“Only one hour and fifty minutes left to go!”

And with that, you’re being hauled off by one arm through the frat house. You stumble on your feet but manage to catch yourself on Jake when you trip over a beer can someone just threw on the ground. He turns around with a glint in his eye.

“Sweets, if you wanted to cuddle, you should’ve just said so!” His tone is gleeful, but he steadies you gently anyway.

“Just get me a drink, Jake.” 

He doesn’t let you go but this time his grip is gentler and he walks at a human pace instead of trying to make record time. After turning a few corners, you finally arrive in the kitchen.

You have to admit, you’re sort of jealous. Your apartment isn’t tiny by any means, but you’d love to have a kitchen this sprawling, with its huge windows, what looks like a state of the art fridge, and granite countertops the sheer square footage of which could make you drool. You feel a rush of disappointment at how dirty it is in here, but you squash it remembering that this is a frat house. Clean is nowhere near part of these men’s vocabulary. 

Jake makes you a drink that seems to be some odd combination of liquors and juices (he avoids the jungle juice thankfully, almost turning green when you ask him if you should try some–“Not unless you want to spend all of tomorrow throwing up.”). When he hands it to you, he looks at you expectantly, like a child who just gave their parent a crayon drawing.

“Well? What do you think?” You grimace on instinct when the liquid hits your tongue, but you realize it’s actually not that bad. 

You tell him as much. Maybe you’re already starting to get drunk because it’s the only explanation for the way you think the look on his face could persuade you to drink three hundred cups of this if it means having him smile at you like that again. You keep drinking to avoid spilling your guts, figuratively.

Jake makes himself a cup while yammering on about planning the party, how he took shots with his frat brothers before you got here, and how he has a brunch planned Sunday with a few of his frat brothers. It’s all a bit too close, too intimate to be honest. Even with everyone around you, even with the way he almost has to yell so you can hear, it feels like it’s just the two of you. It makes you want to flee, but you force yourself to stay put in an effort to at least try.

And it’s not actually terrible. You keep sipping on the drink Jake made you, and try to engage with him. 

He’s in the middle of telling you a story about him and Bradley from freshman year when one of his frat brothers walks up to the two of you with a wicked grin on his face. 

“Now who is this, Jake?” He’s terribly handsome, but something about the way he’s looking at you sets you on edge. 

“Javy, meet sweets.” Jake gestures at you with his perfectly iconic red solo cup.

You roll your eyes at the introduction, “That’s not my name.”

But Javy doesn’t let you correct the record, instead his entire face lights up. He looks like a kid on Christmas as he wraps an arm around Jake’s shoulders and looks between the two of you, a gleeful expression spreading over his face. 

“You are famous in this frat, I hope you know that.”

You prepare yourself for a snide remark about your attitude in class, about your reputation, but instead Javy leans in close, so close that you can see how perfect his skin is (what the hell?), and he whispers conspiratorially, “Jake here never shuts up about you.”

The whisper clearly isn’t meant to keep much secret and Jake obvious hears him because he shoves Javy off him and starts waving his hands at him to shoo him off. When he turns back around, he’s blushing and you don’t think it’s from the alcohol or the heat. 

“Talking shit?” You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow expectantly, not knowing what you’d do with any other explanations. 

“Something like that. Want more to drink?” 

He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, and he clearly doesn’t want you to remember this conversation either, because his next pour is overly generous. After that, he drags you out of the kitchen to ‘socialize’. He keeps you next to him, occasionally slinging an arm around your shoulders or even just leaning on you. 

Much to your dismay, Jake doesn’t let you wallflower, to disappear as you stand next to him–suddenly you’re being introduced to everyone in the frat. You grouse about being forced to remember a thousand different white men’s names and Jake’s laugh rises even above the din of the music and the chatter. You’re loath to admit it aloud, but it’s sort of nice, being included, being in on jokes and spoken to like you might have something funny or interesting to say.

Part of you wants to bring up what Javy said, because almost every guy that Jake introduces as being part of his frat smiles in the exact same way that Javy had. Like a cat who got the cream. But the alcohol is making your tongue heavy and you worry what might be said if you start down that path.

Then, you hear your name distantly, and you whip around to see Bradley making his way through the crowd waving wildly. Nearly missing elbowing some poor sorority girl in the head, he pushes past people. His face is flushed from drinking and the heat, and he’s got his phone pressed to his ear. Why he’s attempting to take a phone call in this type of environment, you’re really not sure.

When he gets to the both of you, he at least has the sense to hang up before he separates you from Jake when he sweeps you up into a bear hug that lifts your feet off the ground and crushes you to him. He seems so happy to see you, and you smile bashfully as you hug him back. 

Once your feet are back on the ground and Bradley’s released you, you notice how Jake has stiffened slightly beside you. He and Bradley engage in some long, complicated handshake that ends with jazz hands and eventually Bradley sweeps away in just the same way he came over. No words are exchanged, and Jake relaxes when Bradley’s out of sight.

“You’re being weird,” You accuse, leaning into Jake so you can get closer to his ear to be heard over the noise, “Well, you’re always weird, but you were being weird towards Bradley.”

“Was not.” Jake says haughtily, pouting lightly like a child. 

“You’re literally pouting right now.” You’re too tipsy to deal with him acting like you just took away his toy truck, and you poke his arm to emphasize your point. 

Jake immediately schools his expression before taking you by the arm and pulling you outside. His broad form clears the way for you and you do your best not to trip on any more beer cans. You two aren’t alone by any means, but here the sound has space to dissipate. There’s beer pong tables, a bonfire going (which, frankly, seems very unsafe), and people milling about. 

“Do you like Bradley?” The two of you are now standing off to the side of the sprawling deck behind the frat house, illuminated by a series of string lights that only seem slightly out of place for a frat house and Jake’s staring at you intently.

You shrug, “I mean, what’s not to like? It’s Bradley, I think we’re friends.” 

This is so awkward and you hate it with every fiber of your being.

He wrings his hands just a bit, and it strikes you that there’s a chance that he’s actually upset. It’s not the kind of annoyed that he always seems to take on when you two are going at it, it’s more genuine, like whatever he’s imagining might be enough to get him really worked up. He opens his mouth but then shuts it.

“Jake. What is wrong with me liking Bradley.” This is so ridiculous–standing in the backyard and trying to get Jake to talk about whatever issues he has or doesn’t with Bradley is probably almost as close to the opposite of socializing as just staying home would have been.

“You don’t like like him, though, right?” 

You roll your eyes and snap at him, “Jake, what is this, middle school?” He’s not calling you sweets, and when you notice, it bothers you just a tad more than you’d like to admit, “No, I like Bradley because he doesn’t yell at me when I correct his projections and he makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. He’s a friend.”

Everything about his demeanor changes in the oddest way when you say that, he peps up and it’s like the Jake that was pouty (jealous?) was never there, and he takes you by the hand, “Great! That’s solved then, let’s go play beer pong.”

You try to ignore the way you get emotional whiplash as he drags you over to the people standing around a folding table.

But you can’t help it. As Jake tries to teach you how to play beer pong you end up ruminating on whatever the hell that just was. Why would it bother Jake if you did “like like” Bradley? The two of you, you and Jake, could barely be classified as friends. Besides, as frat brothers, there’s no way both Jake and Bradley haven’t gotten around or even been with the same girl. No shame for anyone involved, but what’s his fucking deal? (And, Bradley’s a cutie, so what?) 

Eventually, you give up trying to figure out what Jake’s issue is as the two of you start losing at beer pong, and badly, given just how inebriated you are. Jake keeps trying to shout instructions every time you go to throw the ping pong ball and it keeps messing you up, so eventually you shove at him. He barely moves as he starts laughing at your anger.

“Jake! Stop messing me up!” You can feel how bad your coordination is from the alcohol as you stumble a bit as you lean your weight into him. “You’re making us lose!”

He can barely breathe through how hard he’s laughing at how far off your last shot had been, but he still steadies the both of you and wraps his arms around you, “Sweets you’re just too easy to mess up, oh my god. Are you even looking at the cups?”

You just hit his chest once as you start taking in the way that you’re pressed up against each other. He doesn’t let go of you. Instead, he just sort of lets you step back enough to have full control of your arms and continues standing at your side with his arms around your waist. Then, he starts leaning down to breathe instructions in your ear.

Normally you would find it in yourself complain about how gross having his breath in your ear is, but in that moment, already past tipsy and just enjoying the warmth of his body and skin against yours, all you can do is shiver. You fuck up your next shot worse than the last one. You hope it’s dark enough to cover how flustered you are as the patio lights glimmer weakly in the distance.

It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake. 

It’s honestly the most fun you’ve had in a long, long, time and you lose yourself in it. Jake at your side, his arms wrapped around you, laughing loudly as you lose to team after team. He barely removes himself to make his shots. When he laughs it shakes your whole body. Every time he takes a step, he knocks your legs together so you move with him. 

You’ve continued drinking so you’re only getting progressively drunker and it only makes you focus on him more. You lose track of time completely and wholly.

Every time you turn to look at him or talk to him, Jake’s already looking at you. He keeps looking at your lips. In that moment, your rivalry, the project, and really, the entire world falls away. You have nothing to think about but how warm he is, how good he smells, and how you want to keep this moment in a jar so you can come back to it later. 

You think he might kiss you.

The moment breaks when you feel Jake’s phone start buzzing against your leg and he finally lets you go. In an instant, he takes a step back from you and his arms are gone. You didn’t realize just how much his body heat was keeping you warm in the cool evening air til he removes himself from you completely. You miss it immediately.

He steps off to the side, face completely impassive but frozen in a smile as he reads a text, and he starts typing furiously. The smile slides off your face as you think of all the girls in his phone who are probably waiting for his drunk “you up?” texts and you take a step back, putting more space between the two of you. Someone more important than you must want his attention.

“I, uh, I’ve got to go, sorry, sweets.” Jake says, but you don’t feel the apology as much as you do the rejection. It stings in the way a harsh winter wind burns at your cheeks, pricking your skin and raising the blood to your face.

Somewhere in your mind, you remember considering hooking up with someone tonight. That’s what people do, right? Get drunk, sleep with a stranger, then stumble home in last night’s outfit in the morning. And maybe somewhere along the way, maybe between drinks three and four, you’d thought about what it might be like to kiss Jake. At some point when you’d watched his eyes linger on your lips, you thought that was it.

You take a few steps back, trying to feel sober again, but swaying slightly without Jake to hold you, “Right.”

His face falls as he takes a step toward you, but the magic of the night is gone. There isn’t anyone standing on the opposite of the folding table anymore. The backyard is somehow too quiet despite the loudness coming from the house. Jake doesn’t reach for you when he sees the expression on your face. 

“I’ll uh, venmo you for the Uber.” His face betrays nothing but the cool indifference you remember from freshman year–are you really back to where you started after everything tonight?

Him offering to pay for you only makes you remember that you hate him–flirting with you all night then ditching you to go hook up with someone he actually likes. Classic Jake Seresin, everybody. 

-

You don’t care that he slept with someone else after how close the two of you were. You are deciding not to care. It does not bother you because you and Jake aren’t even friends, you are sworn enemies and the only reason you’re even going to these parties is so that you can ensure the project isn’t a flaming mess. 

You’re repeating these mantras to yourself from the moment you wake up, while you go to classes, while you avoid making eye contact with or speaking to Jake for fear he’ll know. You say it to yourself as you sit silently across from him in the library, headphones firmly over your ears so you don’t have to hear him ask if you want coffee. 

He brings you one anyway.

It’s clear that you are utterly failing to convince yourself, because all you can think about is how close he was, how the heat radiated off his body, how he smelled, and how his eyes flitted down to your lips ever so often. You feel like you want to crawl out of your own skin with the realization that you want Jake to want you. You’ve sort of always wanted his attention, it’s just that up until now it’s almost entirely been in the form of your little rivalry.

You find yourself scoffing as a thought comes to the forefront of your mind, It’s like in those romance novels. That shit does not happen to people like you.

The shame and desire washing through you reaches its peak when you find yourself biting into your fist with your hand between your legs a week after the party. All you can think about is how he’d smelled, how close he’d been to you, and the way his hands felt around your waist. You finish with a whine tearing itself from your chest and a deep sort of mortification coursing through your veins.

You can’t avoid him forever though, the work must go on. 

The thought of attraction goes as quickly as it comes when you find yourself sitting across from him at his and Bradley’s kitchen table again, the two of you bickering about a piece of analysis.

“Why do you refuse to listen to me, even the slightest bit, sweets? I’m literally second in our class, I can’t be an absolute idiot.” Jake looks at the ceiling as if some supernatural being will give him the strength to deal with you, and sighs heavily.

You clench your fists, “I’m not refusing to listen to you, Jake, I’m just telling you that you’re wrong.” You don’t remind him you’re first in the class.

Bradley walks in the kitchen, phone held casually in front of his face, a bag of chips grasped in his other hand. He stops to observe the two of you still arguing, now going on about a quiz question you two had disagreed on first semester sophomore year. He could be surprised that you and Jake have found something else to argue about, but then again Jake told him the two of you spent almost three straight hours arguing your first time together at the library. He’s also been witness to countless pointless fights about god knows what since the beginning of the semester.

“Can you two just fuck already, good god.” 

The room goes so quiet the only thing you can hear in your ears is your own heartbeat. Jake looks similarly mortified, cheeks turning red as he tucks his head to the side in clear embarrassment. The tips of his ears are bright red. 

Bradley, unaware of the absolute nuclear bomb that he just dropped, tucks his chips into the pantry, and leaves as the FaceTime call sound starts trilling from his phone. 

Neither you or Jake move. All you can think about is how you felt in that moment last Friday, Jake pressed up against you, his breath heavy in your ear, and his body solid and warm against you. You think about the way want had coursed through your veins when you’d been alone. But he doesn’t want you. His current reaction is evidence enough.

Jake’s the one to break the silence by muttering something under his breath. 

“What?” 

“I said, he’s one to talk.” He clears his throat and avoids eye contact.

You can’t take this, so you try to laugh a bit, but it sounds fake and tinny in your ears, “And I don’t know what he’s talking about. In case everyone’s lost their minds and forgotten, I do not like you, Jake Seresin.”

He laughs lightly in response and says, “People don’t use contractions when they’re lying.”

And you don’t really know what to say to that. Because you don’t really know if there is anything to say. So you decide not to say anything to that, at all.

“You still owe me twenty five dollars for the Uber.”

“Twenty five—“ Jake sputters, “Twenty five American dollars? Where the hell did you have him take you? Downtown and back!? You live twelve minutes from the house!”

“I tipped well.”

Jake mutters something about tipping culture being out of control but you still feel the way your phone buzzes so hard it rattles some pens strewn across the table.

-

When the second invite comes, you decide preemptively that you’re not going to drink. Your deal with Jake was about attending and staying for two hours, it said absolutely nothing about drinking or generally partaking in party activities. You don’t want a repeat of last time–you want the arousal that spikes your bloodstream every time you see his face to disappear as quickly as it came.

You’re avoiding Jake in the frat house by ducking into doorways and keeping an eye out for a blonde head of hair the best you can. At one point, Bradley spots you and sends a confused look your way, clearly scanning for Jake. He doesn’t do anything about it, you guess, because Jake doesn’t come running within the next ten minutes. 

Keeping yourself pressed to the wall where the music isn’t so loud but you also can’t hear the way people are very obviously doing drugs in the bathroom, you count down the minutes til you can leave. 

About five minutes before, you decide to sneak a peek in the kitchen one last time. Maybe you can rob these assholes of some Oreos or something as divine punishment–revenge of the nerds, or whatever.

When you get to the kitchen, you realize you’ve found Jake. His back is to you, and he seems to be holding court. Surrounding him is a group of frat brothers most of whom you don’t remember, with the exception of Javy, who’s leaning his elbows on the countertop and listening about as intently as a drunk person can. 

“She’s fucking stuck up man, I don’t know how you do it. I don’t think being that obnoxious is a requirement to be top of the class.” One of the frat brothers that usually surrounds Jake scoffs. 

You feel all the blood drain from your face and you suddenly feel like being sick. Backing away from the doorway to the kitchen you almost trip over your feet at the speed you’re trying to get away from the conversation, from Jake, from the frat house. 

There it is–there’s your out. Your ick, if you will. Jake, standing in his perfect kitchen, surrounded by a bunch of barely matured fraternity bros, talking shit about you. It’s not that the feelings of hatred weren’t technically mutual, but the extent to which you complain about Jake is usually limited to surface level shit. 

If you had stuck around for just a moment longer, you would’ve heard the way that he defended you over a chorus of agreement from around him, “C’mon man, it’s not like that. Don’t say shit like that about her. She’s under a lot of pressure and you’re kind of a dick in class anyway.”

But you don’t stick around. Instead, you push your way through the mass of bodies, accidentally stumble through a smoke circle, and you still seem so far away from the exit. You pass by Bradley again, and this time he’s with the girl that he insists is just a friend, but they seem too cozy for that in the moment. You don’t stop to say hi. 

When you finally get outside, your chest is heaving and you think you might be sick, alcohol aside. 

This is exactly why you focus on academics. They gave back as good as they got, never betrayed you, never let their friends talk shit about you. Academics never called you “stuck up”, stopping short of biting out the insult “bitch”. God you’re so stupid. 

You should’ve never let him get close, you should’ve stuck to the project and just finished it without ever learning more about Jake beyond the bare minimum. No evenings spent crowded around a countertop covered in textbooks and notes, Bradley humming in the background as he cooked something delicious. No letting Jake buy you coffee or cafeteria food. 

This is exactly what you deserve for letting him in.

----------

tagging: @roosterbruiser @joaquinwhorres @sometimesanalice @seresinsweetie @bobfloyds @theharddeck @jupitercomet @dempy @gigisimsonmars @sunsetsimpsblog @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @kajjaka @clancycucumber230 @desert-fern @bibitches-r-us @cruelmissdior @chaoticassidy @blue-aconite

[darkn2wistydia]

A Hazbin Hotel Side Story! ♠♦Blackjack Princess!♣♥ (PART ONE)

I thought maybe before I fully commit to a bigger project I could showcase what my writing is like and some of my original character, Vesper's, personality. This is quite long, but I enjoyed writing it and hope you'll enjoy reading it just as much. (I'm also not done with this yet, so stay tuned!~)

Word Count: 4,240

!CONTAINS TALK OF GAMBLING, SUBSTANCE ABUSE (ALCOHOL), CURSING, CRUDE HUMOR! {that might be it...?}

Synopsis:

Upon learning that Vesper was once a Blackjack dealer in life, Husk and them form a friendship of sorts and play together when Vesper's time and afterlife is not completely overtaken by VoxTek and the egotistical face of the brand, Vox.

When trying in vain to get Alastor to play one night, the only thing capable of changing his mind is Charlie's naive interest in learning to play this new game, completely unknowing of the spark of chaos, competition, and deal making!? she has ignited among the sinners.

--------------------------------

Husk growls out in anger, throwing his empty bottle against the wall, the sound of glass shattering, and his shouts echoing in the empty lobby.

"FUCKIN' BULLSHIT! You're fucking cheating, I know you are!"

Vesper rolls their eyes as they collect the cards as well as the poker chips Husk bet on his hand. They begin shuffling the deck as they speak, "Chill the fuck out and quit whining. You'll wake up everyone in the Hotel. So, we playin’ again or not?" They smirk, and raise a brow, knowing he won't quit. Not until he hits a winning streak and hits it big or he's out of chips. And, Vesper can always give him a win or two, just to keep him playing. They've already got these cards playing for her, not the other way around. 

He growls, then huffs. "... yeah. Lemme get another drink before you deal." He walks away, muttering to himself as he grabs another bottle of whiskey. He speaks up as he opens the bottle, "You want another one of those nasty ass champagne drinks?"

"Mm, yeah. Here, I'll bring you my glass so you don't have more shit to shine later. And quit hating on me. We're supposed to be having a good night." Vesper sets the deck of cards on the table before they stand and take their glass towards the bar, finishing off what was left of the previous drink and taking a seat on one of the stools.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Lights. Just give it here so we can get back to the game." Husk takes the glass and gets to work on the cocktail.

Suddenly, the front door opens, catching both Vesper and Husk's attention. In waltzes Alastor, silently shutting the door behind him with a grocery bag in hand. He then notices the pair at the bar. "Oh. Hello, Vesper. Husk. What are you two still doing awake?"

"We could ask you the same thing. Heard no one's seen you all day, Vaggie was looking for you for a good while before giving up. So, why are you getting back so late, hm?" Vesper questions then turns their head when Husk sets their freshly made cocktail on the bar, picking it up and taking a sip. 

Alastor laughs, "Ah. Well, you're certainly more confident when you're intoxicated. Usually, you don't speak so boldly. How humorous. But, since you asked, I spent the day in the Cannibal Colony with my dear friend, Rosie. I also stopped by a butcher to get a nice piece of venison for breakfast in a few hours. Now, since I answered you, do tell me what you two are up to this evening. I'm quite curious."

"Just drinking and gambling. They're a fucking asshole dealer, though. Pretty sure they're counting cards, just can't prove it...." Husk tips the whisky bottle back, taking a large drink before resting his elbow on the bar and propping his face up with his fist, glancing at Alastor's grocery bag, blood pooling at the bottom of the white plastic despite the meat being wrapped. He sets the bottle to the bar and makes a face, "That looks fuckin' gross, man. Put that somewhere else."

Vesper shrugs, not that bothered and simply ignoring Husk's last comment, "Eh, you're just a low roller and a sore loser, Feathers. Besides, we're not gambling anything of value, so what's it matter. Most I'm getting out of this is a good laugh when you lose. Which is every time." They snicker, earning a scowl from Husk. 

Alastor uses his magic to send his breakfast elsewhere before drawing closer. "Oh, such a shame you're still on that losing streak, Husk, but really, you've only got yourself to blame for that. Only natural your poor luck should continue."

Husk scoffs before sitting up, taking another swig of his whiskey and slamming the bottle down on the bar top, hard, but not enough to break it. "You know what, man? Fuck you, first of all. And, second, why don't you play with us tonight and see what I mean. They'll probably outplay you, too. Boy, wouldn't that be a sight to see. The Radio Demon, losing."

"Ha! I would join you both, really, even if it was just to watch as you continue to lose, old pal. But, as Vesper stated, neither of you is gambling anything of value. I see no reason to play."

"I ain't got nothing to bet, you prick! You got my soul and my power, what else do ya want?!"

"Guys, you're being really loud.... Could you... maybe just... quiet down? Just a bit?" A tired Charlie has appeared at the stairs, yawning softly.

Vesper hits Husk in the chest, "See? I TOLD you that your yelling would wake someone up." They huff, turning their attention to Charlie, "Sorry, Charlie. We'll quiet down, head on back to bed." 

Charlie sees the chips and cards on the table and gasps, "Ooh, are you guys playing a game! What game is it? Can I play?" 

Alastor blinks, bewildered and obviously amused at the thought of the Princess of Hell, someone quite literally Hellbent on rehabilitating sinners, engaging in something as frivolous and sometimes even sinful as gambling? Now, that would be quite an entertaining sight to see.

"If she plays, I'll join you."

Husk scoffs, throwing his hands up in annoyance, "What!? No! Fuckin’ leave the Princess out of this! She's going to bed!"

Charlie rushes down the stairs and to the bar, hands clasped pleadingly, "No, I think I got a second wind. Please, please, please...!" 

Vesper chuckles. "Alright, alright. C'mon, let me show you how to play. Oh, and Husk, go ahead and pour me a glass of that. It's gonna be a longer night than I thought." 

Husk groans, grabbing another bottle of whisky and two glasses, looking to Alastor, "On the rocks or straight, you pinstriped fuck?"

"Straight. And, I'll take it at the table." He smirks walking away to join Charlie and Vesper at the poker table, hearing Husk growl out an, "Of course you fuckin' will...." before he pours both drinks, carrying them in one hand and the now two open bottles of whiskey in the other.

Vesper lays out a faux play to show Charlie the rules of Blackjack. They've also placed a poker chip in the betting area and a second aside for a later example. "Oh, and this is just an etiquette of the game. Don't touch the cards. That's all on the dealer." 

"Huh. Ok. No touching the cards. So, what's the point of the game? How do we play?"

"So, your goal is to beat the dealer, me, without going over 21. Everyone starts with two cards, and everyone has to put in a chip worth at least the table minimum and usually a maximum. That last bit isn't as important unless you're playing competitively. The difference between your hand and the dealer's is that yours will be faceup while one of the dealer's cards is faced down, that's the hole card. Getting it so far?" 

Charlie nods. "Yep, play a minimum point value, beat the dealer's score without going over 21, my cards are face up. What else?"

{AN: After this cut is a lengthy description on how to play Blackjack as told by Vesper. There is some ditzy Charlie content and a fluffy moment or two between Vesper and Alastor, but be aware that you DO NOT have to read this part to enjoy and understand the story. I just didn't have the heart to cut it, so if you read this bit, thanks! But, don't feel obligated! Either way you read this story, it'll make sense. Happy reading!}

"Ok, I laid out a play for you so you can see how this works. The dealer's score is a 7, and the player has a king and a 4, giving them a score of 14. Kings, queens, and jacks, also called face cards, are all worth 10 points. The number cards are pretty self-explanatory. Aces are the magic card and can be valued at either one or eleven points. That's always the player's choice. Phew. Hold on a second." Vesper takes a breath then takes a long sip of their drink that they'd been holding. Doing so, they see Alastor has come to join them and is exceptionally close, listening intently to Vesper's explanation. He glances from the cards to them, offering his hand to take their drink after they've sipped on it a moment. 

"May I? I don't believe I've had the taste of a bubbly champagne cocktail since I was a much younger man. Perhaps I could hold it for you as well, since it seems you're in need of your hands to properly explain the rules to Charlotte."

Vesper smiles softly, handing Alastor the cocktail. "What a gentlemanly offer. Knock yourself out, Al." Their fingertips graze his as the glass changes hands. Alsator laughs at the comment, "Always! And, thank you, Darling. Mm. Is that... um... gender neutral...?" He raises a brow, unsure, but still smiling as he sips the cocktail, humming as the liquid graces his taste buds. 

They shrug, honestly not bothered by what he'd call them as they're not ballsy enough to correct him. "Mm, I'll take it. Now, let me get back to this and get in here real quick." Vesper turns back towards the table and grabs the deck, quickly dealing through for the cards for the ones she needs, setting them off to the side with the extra chip. Husk, perking up at the sound of the cards, looks and begins watching the cards close and intently as he sips his bottle of booze.

"Alright. You, as the player, have two choices. You can stay, which is where you wave your hand over the cards to keep the score you have. Or, you can hit, where you tap the table and the dealer will deal you as many cards as you want to get a better score, but there's always the risk you could go over 21, which is called a bust and causes you to lose. So, you have to be wary how many times you hit. Ok, this is where it starts getting tricky. You still keeping up?" 

Charlie nods once more, looking confident. "Yes. Wave to stay, tap to hit. Keep going, this sounds like such a fun game." She smiles brightly, leaning in a bit closer to continue observing from a better angle.

Husk chokes on his booze at the statement, suppressing a laugh.

"Ignore him. So, for now we'll say that you stayed with this hand, kept the fourteen. Now the dealer shows their second card. In this case it's an ace which is perfect. Dealer has a higher score so they win. Now, the dealer plays by a bit of a different set of rules. The dea-"

Charlie gasps abruptly, causing everyone to jump. "What!? That's dirty...! Why?" 

"Just the game, Charlie. It evens out, trust me. Anyway, the dealer's score will always be 17 or over without exceeding  21. If the two cards they delt themselves at the start of the hand don't equal 17 when they reveal the hole card, then they continue to draw cards until they add up to or exceed 17. Now, if they were to exceed 21, the dealer busts, loses, and the whole table gets a payout." 

"Everyone wins!? Whoa, what a turn around. Ok, ok. Anything else?"

Vesper chuckles softly, shaking her head a bit at Charlie's genuinely naive fascination, "Let me show you another few plays, just so I can give you some basic tips and make sure you're really getting it."

Charlie nods then looks back to the cards.

"Ok, the best way to know when to stay or hit is to pay attention to what you have and compare it to the visible dealer card.  We know in this case our dealer's point value is 17, but only the 7 was visible, so we'll go off that for now. Player has 14, this time we're gonna hit and say that we get a 7. That gives us a perfect score of 21, which means the player wins. Just use your judgment, you'll get better the more you play.”

"Now, players actually have a third play option, but it really only works if the player is dealt high doubles”

Vesper grabs the cards they’d previously pulled and set aside as well as the extra chip. They then pull a pair of tens out of the select cards without looking.

“Like these two tens here. That gives you a score of 20, which almost guarantees the win, but, if you're feeling lucky or got the balls, your third option is to split the hand. That's where you double the points you put in play at the beginning of the hand and double tap the table with two fingers to signify the split. The Dealer does that for you, of course." Vesper puts the extra chip in the betting area and properly splits the hand so Charlie can see an example.

"Wait, what? That's silly, why would you wanna split the hand if you've already won? That makes no sense." 

Alastor laughs heartily, "Good question, Princess! The right one, too. But, never assume triumph, especially in a game that at its core is based on chance. It makes one look cocky. Or at the very least don't verbalize it." He continues to chuckle, still holding Vesper's champagne glass.

Vesper nods in agreement, "He's actually got a point. Even if you have an almost perfect score, the dealer could end up with the perfect score. Happens more often than you think, especially for newer players. But, like I said, the thing with splitting your hand is you can win extra points if it works out in your favor. Since you bet double, you can win double from the dealer. They always match your bet. And, if you noticed, the dealer can't do anything but hit if their card value is below 17. If it's at 17, they're not allowed." 

Charlie gasps, “Ooooh, ok! So that puts them at a disadvantage! Despite this being a game of chance it's also a game of strategy.”

"Well, look who's getting smart and really thinking it through. Now you're really catching on. Moving right along, upon splitting the hand, the player actually then has two hands in play, allowing them to hit on both to get a score below 21. We'll say in this case we got lucky and pulled another ten and a queen, so both hands are worth 20 points and the dealer loses with 17. Now, worst case scenario, let's say your dealer actually has a six on top instead of that 7." 

Vesper switches out the 7 for the 6 they'd kept in their hand for later,  holding one more card in their off hand, discarding the now useless 7 with the rest of the deck.

“What do you think you should do?" 

Charlie takes a deep breath. "Ok. So, I already split my hand, they both value to 20, I can't hit or I'll go over, so I stay with what I've got. As for the dealer, they're score is 16 now, so... they have to hit. And, they only need to draw a 4 or 5 to win."

"Bingo. But, more often than not, they don't get that 5. 16 is a dangerous number in Blackjack." Vesper throws out the final card they'd been holding onto, the 5, watching as it lands with the rest of the dealer's cards, smirking a bit. "But, 16 is my lucky number, and I tend to get the cards I need. You ain't ever met a dealer like me. I'm a jack of all trades when it comes to card games, but this is where my skills really shine."

{AN: If you made it this far and read what could have been cut, thanks. And, congratulations! Now you have all the knowledge I have of Blackjack! I just had fun writing and couldn't stop. Thanks for humoring me Now, diving back in...!~}

Vesper takes a deep breath after the lengthy explanation, Alastor offering them their drink, which they take from him and take a large drink from before handing it back. He retrieves it from them, taking another sip from the bubbly cocktail as well.

"Ok, I think that covers everything. If I missed something I'll explain it when we get there. So, you think you're ready to play some Blackjack, Princess?" 

"Yes! Deal me in, Vesper!" Charlie pulls up a chair and sits directly in front of where Vesper will be dealing from, Husk moves from his perch on the side of the table to sit to Charlie's left and Alastor, still standing, is to her right.

Vesper laughs, grabbing the example cards and putting them with the rest of the deck, beginning to shuffle them as they round the table to where the bank of chips is positioned. "Alright, let me get you and Alastor some chips. Must be a lucky day after all, Husk, you're getting fresh chips. Everyone's starting with 15 chips, excluding the dealer, I gotta have a bank for when one of you fools decides to try and hit it big. That's inevitable. Each of your chips is worth 100 points. To play you have to have at minimum one chip in your betting area. I don't care about a max. If you run out of chips, you lose. At 45 points, I call the game. Hit that point total first, or hope that the other players strike out cause that's the only way to win."

Alastor rounds the table offering their champagne glass back to them, as he'd had enough and left the last drink for Vesper. Placing the deck of cards on the table, they take the glass, finishing what was left as they begin to pull the chips needed to play with their free hand.

Alastor reaches out, taking the glass from their hand carefully, once more, allowing their hands to touch. "I'll get that to the bar." Which simply meant he'd use his black magic to send itself over there. "Oh, and thank you, again. It was almost nostalgic sipping that. Reminded me of a party I attended once, though I believe the drink I had then wasn't nearly as sweet as yours. However, on another note, it really is such a pity that we've nothing of value to bet with so we can make the game more… interesting."

Vesper bites their lip, cocking their head to the side in thought. About both Alastor's emphasis on the word 'sweet' as well as his urge for something of value worth playing for. It was for his entertainment of course and unfortunately Vesper knew exactly what he was wanting them to say.

It was the only thing that came to mind.

"Alright, how about this? I'll put my soul on the table. Winner gets that." They raise a brow at Alastor, who is obviously visibly interested. 

Husk jumps up, "Don't be fuckin' stupid, Vesper! He'll cheat you out of it and you know it! You may be a pain in the ass but you're sure as Hell not dumb enough to make a bet like that."

Charlie looks at Vesper, "We're betting!? This is a betting game!? I thought it was just a point system! Um, I..... Don't... ugh don't bet your soul, Vesper! I don't want... You shouldn't... um...." Charlie can't even find the words to express everything she's feeling. 

Vesper stops shuffling long enough to finally deal out the chips they had pulled for each player before Alastor had distracted them. Instead of setting his chips across the table, Vesper offers Alastor his chips since he is standing just beside them. He opens his palm and Vesper places them in his hand, his gaze never wavering from them.

Vesper looks to a visibly concerned Charlie as she begins shuffling the cards once more, "Ok, ok, how about this. Just as an insurance policy, if you win, Charlie, I'll help you with lesson plans for a week on top of everything that I do for the flat-faced prince of VoxTek. Mm, and, I'll let you officially check me in and... participate in this whole, ugh... rehabilitation thing. But, if one of these bastards win, which I have faith is not gonna happen, they get my soul. It is mine to bet, after all. I'm still a sinner, gotta keep my afterlife interesting somehow."

Charlie's jaw kinda drops, eyes wide as she takes in this information. "You... I.... Really...? You'll actually try? Like genuinely, really try?" Vesper nods, still shuffling the deck of cards, now doing a few fancy shuffling tricks, catching Husk's attention who stares in admiration of the skill. 

Charlie takes a breath and stands, looking at Vesper. "Alright, despite not agreeing with the whole... soul dealing thing... I'll make an exception this time because I do believe in you.... And if you believe you'll win then, that's gonna have to be enough for me. So, um... I'll... I'll take your bet. You're on, Vesper." Charlie huffs then sits back in her chair, waiting for the cards to be dealt.

Alastor smiles widely, "Marvelous! Oh, what a game this shall be! Shall we shake hands, dear?" Offering his free hand to Vesper, a soft yet sickly green glow emanating from it.

Husk throws in his two-cents once more, "I ain't shaking his fuckin' hand. And, this is still a dumbass idea. Don't be a dumbass."

"What did I just tell her? My soul, I'll bet it if I want. Besides, you just gotta shake my hand, you grouchy old fuck. And, if you win you got my soul, maybe it'll be just the pick-me-up you needed. I hear I can be pretty useful, a jack of all trades. Now, get that stick out of your ass and gimme your fuckin’ hand. Not the one you used to remove the stick, though." Vesper snickers at their own joke and Alastor laughs as well, which only makes them laugh with him. 

Husk growls and mutters under his breath as he offers his hand from across the table.

Vesper takes his hand then Alastor’s, giving them a firm shake. "It's a deal. Either of you win, it's my soul. Should I win, I get to keep it. All I really want in return is bragging rights. Especially if I beat you, Alastor." 

Alastor laughs, hand still tightly grasping Vesper's, "A fine deal, I suppose. Though, should you lose, what you're giving up is worth much more than 'bragging rights,' Dearest. Now, don't get me wrong, taking advantage of such a poorly made deal would usually be something I enjoy and participate in solely for the shattered look on their face when they lose. However, you're smarter than that. And, trying to play me before the cards are even on the table. Clever, but not clever enough, I'm afraid. So, to make the earnings and playing ground fair, I have a suggestion. Should you win, I'll allow you to have bragging rights and to keep your soul, since that is what you say you wish, but I also offer mine and Husk's services for one future favor. Anything you can think of. However, should I or Husk win, your soul will belong to whomever wins the game, be it by point value or by not striking out. I also believe your services could be of good use for something, so you'll be indebted to one future favor as well, anything the winner wishes. Now, that is a much fairer deal, don't you agree?"

Husk, hand still locked in the handshake with Vesper, is flabbergasted at hearing that he could very well end up doing another shit favor just because Alastor offered him up for it. Again. And, watching Vesper make the same mistake he did, he almost felt guilty, even if he tried to warn them. Really he should have tried a bit harder, been more direct. This deal was just as carefully worded as his, which makes it dangerous. But, at least Alastor was offering his own services, too. And, thankfully, for some reason, he didn't require complete control of them. Not yet, anyhow. Because Husk knew better than anyone that once he had your soul, Alastor already owned you. Even if you didn't know it yet.

Vesper smirks, "Alright, smart ass, you're on. Now, go sit, I'm ready to deal."

Husk and Alastor shake their hand once more, causing Alastor's power to flare and the room flash the sickly green before dissipating. Husk pulls away as soon as the deal is sealed, crossing his arms. Alastor, however, glances down at Vesper's hand just before leaning down to place a gentle kiss on their knuckles. Then, as if it never happened, he turns on his heels and goes to the opposite side of the table to join Charlie and Husk, taking his seat to the right of Charlie. "I truly wish you the best of luck, Vesper."

A soft blush dusts Vesper's cheeks as they retrieve the deck of cards and begin to shuffle, setting the deck in front of Husk simply out of habit. He chuckles and cuts the deck and Vesper begins to shuffle once more then deals out their hands.

After dealing, Vesper reaches under the edge of the table, pulling out the box that houses the deck of cards they'll be using. They reach in and pull out one of the two Jokers before they shove it into the rest of the deck, only for it to pop out the other side of the deck. However, in doing so the card had changed from the classic black, red and white coloring to one emphasized by neon colors with a characterized image of Vesper replacing that of the Joker. They rest the card at the front of their bank, smirking as they lean comfortably on the table. Vesper's soul was officially on the table....

"Alright, sinners and Princess. Let's play." 

I sincerely hope you guys enjoyed this. I will be writing a part two, it is actually already in the works and will most likely update this with a word count, warning tags, (if it should need it), and fix any mistakes I may have missed. I'll also link Part Two once it's up. I thank you for reading.

[brightwingedbat]

[breaks through the wall] 27 for Blinnk and Chip?

27. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

A quite late night at the Durmand Priory headquarters, and yet the scholars of this place rarely seem to sleep. Always something going on.

One asuran magister, Blinnk, is returning from a visit to his krewe back at Rata Sum. Thankfully the close proximity to Lion's Arch and the asura gates make the travel take little time, though he still spent most of the day with them.

He's half expecting his Priory partner Chip to already be snoozing away in bed, he talked a lot about the things the two have been discovering and making, especially a charr-asura hybrid golem in the works. Though perhaps he talked a bit too much, enough so that his krewe joked about him finding a husband.

He laughed it off then, but alone with his thoughts on the travel back had the idea ruminating in his mind constantly. It is true that asura sometimes forge bonds like that when working on a long time project, and Chip has a most brilliant mind. But with a charr? Unlikely, he thinks, the culture is too different between them.

Quietly so as to not wake the probably sleeping partner of his, he enters the room the two stay in, where they do most of their research and development. Only to freeze up when he finds the charr sitting at the desk at the opposite side of the room, grumbling away while tapping a datapad pen to his right horn.

Still working on that hybrid golem's plans, reminds Blinnk of the times he was going through college, the sleepless nights spent working on his transatmospheric converter.

He hasn't been noticed, so perhaps this is the perfect time for a tiny little prank, he's always wanted to see if he can get a reaction from the charr. Using his elemancy, he sends a small wisp of electricity floating through the air, stopping just to the right of the charr's head and...

Zzz-crack! It pops loudly with a bright spark.

Chip however does not even flinch, he puts the pen down and turns his head. "I see you're back, Blinnk. Nice try."

"Alchemy, I thought I had you that time. It was the prime situation!" The asura shakes his head with a wry smirk spread upon his lips, better luck next time. Of course every time's been a next time and he's still no closer.

"Don't know how many times I gotta put it in your head, I'm Iron Legion, I'd end up killin' someone if I had a jumpy hand while holdin' a pistol." The charr grumbles, returning his attention back to the datapad. "Besides, I went through fahrar with Reeva houndin' me with pranks. Nothin' you can do can phase me."

Nothing? Now that's simply not true to the asura's mind, there's always something, he just needs to find it. He saunters closer to the work desk, stepping onto a raised platform especially for him. "Oho, is that a challenge?" He asks, leaning an elbow onto the desk.

Chip motionlessly shifts his gaze to the side, a glare at the asura beside him. "No, it's not."

"It sounds like a challenge."

"Don't even try, I've got my hands full with these plans and it's a struggle enough."

"And you don't even ask me for assistance? And here I thought we were partners..." Blinnk says with a sarcastically sad tone, still trying to get some sort of reaction that isn't just grouch from the charr.

"...I know what you're doin', you won't get a rise out of me. I'm not stupid." Chip huffs grumpily, his gaze returns to the datapad, as does the tapping of the pen to his horn.

Not stupid, that's for sure. It's a large reason why Blinnk appreciates the charr's company, why Chip ends up on his mind so often now... On his mind, now there's an idea. What better way to trip up his partner than by that... He turns and leans back on the desk, both elbows propping him up. "True, you're one of the most intelligent charr I've met..."

The tapping of the pen stops, the charr glances to his asuran partner slowly. What is he up to now?

Bliink raises a brow, a taunting shark-like grin forms upon his face. "It's why I love you, you big furball."

There's a small clatter as the pen falls from Chip's paw, his widening eyes stuck on the asura. "...What?"

"What?" Blinnk repeats back, in a most smug tone. Seems like that's done the trick.

"What did you just say?" Chip's voice is loaded with confusion, and curiosity. He isn't fully sure what he heard was correct, but the words are clear in his head.

A small chuckle escapes Blinnk, he's finally got through. "Four ears not enough to catch it?"

"N-no, I heard what you, I mean- You said- Argh, burn me..." The charr leans forward on the desk, rubbing his palms up over his face. He really did just get told in no uncertain terms that his Priory partner loved him, what is he meant to do with that? Reeva didn't even get like that with him...

"Oh my, has the infallible 'Iron Legion Soldier' met his match? Chip's weakness is love! How endearing." The asura jests, but truthfully this is starting to go even better than some prank.

"Singe my whiskers... Blinnk, can you not? How am I meant to keep workin' with this on my mind now..." He can't help it, the charr's entire mindset is now stuck on those words. And the thoughts that perhaps he also shares the feeling, his ears flush a slight red.

"Aw, it can't be that much- Oh." Blinnk can hardly avoid noticing the colour of Chip's ears, asura tend to notice those. His taunting tone shifts more softly. "Your ears are- Hold on a moment, do you...?"

What was meant to be a growl inadvertently comes out as a meek whine from the charr, and this just sets his ears even redder. "Why are you starin' at my ears! Scorch my sides, fine! You can help me more with the plans tomorrow, I can't work like this..." He rather quickly stands up from the desk and trods over to his quite large charr-sized bed. He sits down on its side, covering his face with his paws once more.

Blinnk managed to get part of what he wanted, to finally break that rough exterior around his magister partner. And yet, now it's replaced with something else, a want to hear Chip return the feelings in words. "Chip… I- Alright. Tomorrow then." He moves on to his own smaller bed, with a new thought to rattle his mind over.

...

The silence stays for a while after, both ruminating on their thoughts while laying back, until at last the charr finds the quiet too much and utters out a soft call to the asura. "...Hey, Blinnk. My, uh... My bed's big enough for an asura to get on too. Y'know, if you wanna talk things out. 'Bout the whole love thing..."

The asura immediately sits up, his ears raising excitedly. The fact Chip is offering to be close while talking is a promising sign. "Of course, certainly!" He practically dashes right over to the charr's bed, jumping on to the space beside the large feline and sitting with a grin on his face.

So much for sleeping, the two have something other than research and inventing to talk about, and who knows how long they're going to be discussing it? At the very least, the future appears to be in good fortune for the two.

[zoe-murphy-is-my-wife]

I know I'm a day late, but here's my @sincerely-us tribute for september 12th.

Favorite ship: galaxy gals

Alana started hanging around with Connor ever since they were assigned to do a presentation on Huck Finn, which was due in three days. It was obvious to Alana that Connor didn’t want to be with her (or really with anyone),but Alana figured there was a better chance of the project being done well if they got along, so she stuck around.

Besides, it’s not like she had any real friends to sit with at lunch, only acquaintances.

Sabrina Patel, who is in the student council with Alana, had joked that Alana and Connor were a couple, but Alana just laughed it off.

***

She was spending the evening at the Murphys' place, working on the project in Connor's room, about to ask him if she could borrow one of the books he had (one that she's been looking for but was unable to find till then) when a knock was heard at the door. 

"Fuck off Zoe!" Connor shouted, going back to his computer right after to continue their work 

"Fuck you! Mom's wondering if you'd want snacks." Came the response.

"You want snacks?" Connor asked her, looking bored.

Alana nodded, silently wondering if this was how all siblings interacted with each other.

"Bring chips!" Connor shouted. The door then opened, showing a gorgeous girl with long light brown hair shoving her middle finger at Connor, before running off to get the snacks, Connor yelling at her to get out.

Alana was unable to focus for the rest of the evening, wishing the door to Connor's room was open so she could catch a glimpse of the girl.

***

They got an A- on their project. Not perfect, but it'll have to do. Alana would usually be a lot more upset about getting less than perfect, but she was a lot more focus on Connor"# younger sister, who she learned her name was Zoe.

She has learned a lot about Zoe since then actually. Like that she was popular, in the Jazz band, a year under her, and really nice. 

Not that she was spying on the honey eyed girl or something, it's just… she was always on her mind, and Alana couldn't stop noticing how she would help younger students to their classrooms, or that she how she helped the kid that got shoved over when everyone else just walked along, or how she would make sure to wave at her classmates every morning. 

She wasn't spying on Zoe. It was simply that Zoe was eye-catching. It wasn't her fault that she developed a bit of a crush on the other girl.

***

Alana was going to talk to Zoe. This crush has been going on for a month and it's only grown everyday. She was going to talk to her after the Jazz band performance. 

Watching Zoe play did nothing to take away from her crush on the girl. In fact, it only made it worse, because when Zoe played, she had this smile. It was like she had a secret, and it was the funniest secret of her's, and she was letting you, and only you, in on the secret. It was a sweet, warm smile, which brought dimples to her face. 

After the performance, Alana congratulated everyone in the band, making sure to point out small details she liked about their performance. She knew that some of them had thought it was weird, but the face of pure excitement on the pianist's face reminded her why she loved complimenting people, even when it comes off as weird. 

Then, hands sweating, she walked up to Zoe, tapling her on the shoulder.

"You were really good up there!" She said, sounding much too excited (at least to herself).

"Thanks! It's Alana, right?" Zoe said, holding her hand out. 

"Yeah, Alana, that's me." She wanted to disappear on the spot, but she stood there, smiling at the girl who has consumed her mind for the past month, shaking her hand.

"Well it's nice to meet you." Zoe said, smiling back at her.

"We met before actually."

"Really?" Zoe looked confused

"Yeah. I was over at your house, working on a project with Connor. Like a month ago. You probably don't remember." Alana had hoped that Zoe would remember her, but she should have known that she wouldn't. No one else did.

"Did I shove my middle finger at Connor while you were there?"

The hope flaired back, stronger than ever. "Yes! Yes you did!"

"Ohhh, yeah I remember you! You offered to help my mom with the dishes after we had vegan lasagna. You know you seemed so nice, it was weird to see you hang out with my brother."

"Thank you..?" Alana didn't know if it was a compliment, a dig at Connor, or both.

"I need to go now, but we'll catch up, okay?" Zoe reached for her purse and pulled out a pen and paper, wrote down a string of numbers, and handed the paper to Alana before leaving, turning back to wave at Alana.

It was only when she left that Alana realised she had given her her phone number. 

[arcanescholxr]

🚪 (for @laughing-hellblazer)

Send me 🚪  ( or ‘door’ )   and I’ll generate a number for my muse to show up on your muse’s doorstep ( a mix of angst, silliness, and fluff ) …

@laughing-hellblazer

3. Possessed

It was a slow burn, an agonizing weeks of chipping away at the boy’s energy and strength. Even more so that he resisted against the amulet’s power. It was luck that Wilhelm ended up in Dwight’s hands in the first place, being dismissed by his father for being a ‘tacky thing’, and then stuffed in box along with other trinkets. For years he was disgraced by being trapped in the wretched amulet, forgotten by humanity, and then to be found once again and tossed into a box to rot in. Then like the sun peeking through the clouds, the young witch found the amulet, and unlike his father, the fool took an interest.

Dwight wore the amulet believing it was a nice touch. All the fashionable young witches wore amulets and trinkets, so why wouldn’t he? Of course Dwight was more interested in the inscription on the back of the amulet, written in an ancient and forgotten tongue. So the witch took the amulet as a simple passion project, uncovering what the amulet meant. It was something to pass the time with, when he felt the energy to do so. As Dwight spent the weeks with the amulet, a mysteriously illness befell on the witch. What could be assumed to be the flu or the common cold, it was actually Wilhelm draining the witch’s energy and will, just until he was weak enough to take over. The little twit didn’t see to realize the correlation between his sudden dizzy spells and the new trinket he acquired. It worked in his favor that no one else did either.

When Dwight finally succumbed to the draining spell, the spirit of the amulet made his way into Dwight’s mind. Wilhelm trapped whatever remaining conscious the boy had deep within his mind. It wasn’t like he could fight back, not like this. Whether or not Dwight was aware of this invasive parasite in his body, it was no concern of the warlock. The next time the boy opened his eyes, Wilhelm had gained control.

Being in a body again felt invigorating. Once again he walked the earth, in a new and fresh body. And what luck that it belonged to a witch. Not just any witch, a witch of great power. Wilhelm could feel the untapped potential the boy had, a flurries of energy right at his fingertips. The boy could be something great, if only he weren’t bound to that wretched staff of his. Wilhelm made quick work of disposing of the staff, and the familiar too, locking her away in a chest drawer. She was smart enough to sense that her master was gone.

The new body was great, yet it was still troubling. The boy’s spirit still lingered within. Two spirits within a body was a recipe for disaster. Wilhelm would need to destroy his spirit to have complete control of the body. Then nothing would be in his way.

Only problem was acquiring his grimoire, which contained such spells. The boy’s father failed to collect the grimoire along with the amulet. It would be another hurdle but he’s waited this long to be free, and he wouldn’t let it be ripped from him again. The little witchling had many connections to the Magical Realm, but there was one ally of his that perked Wilhelm’e interest.

As the moon hung ominously in the sky, ‘Dwight’ walked to John’s residence. If he was going to get help to retrieve his grimoire, he would need someone with a brain. The witchling’s father was a dolt and his uncle was too hostile for his taste. Wilhelm knocked on John’s door, waiting for a response. When the door swung open, the faintest of smiles crossed the warlock’s face.

“I hope it’s not too late.” The voice came out like a purr, sounding just like Dwight. “I need help with a grimoire I’m looking for.”

[cacophony-questing]

[A recording is attached. A voice, presumably Nim’s, starts to speak.

“Alright, I’ve just started recording. So here we go then- I’d like you to tell me your honest thoughts on the destroyed mural.”

A man’s laugh can be heard. “Honestly, I thought it was the tackiest thing I’d ever seen. I guess I liked that it got people to come here to Stow-on-Side - walking through our outdoor markets really is something everyone should experience once, that’s what I say - but I didn’t actually like to look at it.”

“I see.” Nim says. “You’re definitely not the only one here who feels that way. But there was something else?”

“Yeah. My kids loved it! I guess ‘cause it was this big thing, but it was so simple, looked like something a kid could make themself.”

“So, what are your thoughts on the new project then?”

“Heh, I guess I have to say I'm for it. If we’re going to have a big, bright, eye-hurting mural here for the kids to enjoy, I’d definitely rather it be one that someone here actually made- and that doesn’t cover up that nice old statue this time. And painting would give the kids something to do besides making trouble and trying to bounce off the merchants’ umbrellas…”

“They do that? That seems dangerous...”

“Well, they’ve tried. They couldn’t actually jump high enough to make it up there. Oh and, they’re also chipping away at mortar between some bricks on that building back there because some of them are convinced there’s a portal to a ghost world behind-" He stops suddenly. "Hey, wait. You know, even with those sunglasses, you look really familiar. Are you-

“Weeeell, that’s it for this interview, thanks for your cooperation, gotta run!”

The sound of fast footsteps can be heard, then the sound of Nim catching their breath. “Good. Successful escape. And-” They take a deep breath. “I think we have a load of support for this now. Right, Dusty?” A pokemon cry resounds from close to the microphone, recognizable as a Runerigus if you’re familiar with that pokemon. But before the cry has even finished, Nim rushes on. “It’s exciting. Putting a thing like this together-” they inhale again- “will finally show Galar that I don’t just spend my time hiding aw-” A sudden noise is heard, and a quiet, curious noise comes from near the microphone. “Shh. What was that?”

The sound comes again, clearer this time. It sounds like a pained cry. 

“Oh no!”

The only sound on the recording is the sound of even faster footsteps, until it cuts out completely.]

[nar-nia]

Bribing 101

heeseung x reader

Heeseung desperately tries to get your cat to like him - it's more time consuming than he thought.

“So do you want chips, or do you want chocolate?” Your voice sounded through the tiny apartment while you were looking for food in your kitchen. “No, wait... I only have chocolate. Never mind then.”

A soft laugh could be heard. “I prefer chocolate anyway.”

You took some cookies out of the package and carefully built a little castle, with chocolate sticks as decoration. It took you a while, but finally you were happy with the result. The way to the living room however proved to be more difficult than you thought – maybe building a little art project on a plate wasn’t such a good idea after all. So, you took baby steps, one foot after the other, your gaze fixated on the wobbling chocolate. You didn’t even dare to breathe, too scared that you could destroy something.

When you could finally put the plate on your little coffee table you were more than relieved. A smile spread over your face when you looked up, excited to see what your boyfriend would say to your chocolate castle. To your surprise you were met by an even bigger grin and-

“Bobby?” Your little cat was sitting on Heeseungs lap, contently purring. “What happened? This is the first time he got close to you!” Your whole face lit up, eyes sparkling while you were jumping up and down.

Heeseung could have sworn that you had never looked more beautiful than you did right now, and in that moment he decided that everything he did in these past few weeks to win the heart of your beloved cat was worth it.

It had all started a month ago. You two were having your weekly movie night, snuggled together on the couch. It was nice, his arm wrapped around you while you were occasionally covering your face in his shirt. He picked a Disney movie, knowing how much you loved them and how emotional you got every time a sad scene happened. But something was different this time. You seemed distracted, every so often looking to the corner of your room next to the tv. He tried to talk to you, but you didn’t even notice. Okay, something was definitely wrong.

“Hey…”, he tried again quietly, this time capturing your attention when he called out your name. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but it was hesitant and barely visible.

“Come on, you can tell me if something’s wrong. What is it?” He looked down at you, brows furrowed. “I’m worried about you”.

You let out a deep sigh. So there was something troubling you. “It’s nothing, just… why doesn’t Bobby like you?”

Now it was Heeseungs time to let out a sigh. He knew that this had bothered you since the beginning of your relationship. Your cat, Bobby, and Heeseung weren’t exactly on the best of terms. The cat accepted his presence, but that was all. He didn’t eat the food your boyfriend tried to give him and every time he came close Bobby began to hiss and to run away. Which was also the reason why he was sitting in the corner of the room, staring at Heeseung with eyes full of rage – at least according to your boyfriend. He didn’t know what he did to make your cat so mad, but seeing you lying on the couch that night, eyes filled with sadness, he decided something needed to change. And in the upcoming weeks he did everything he could to make that happen.

You had already given him the keys to your apartment some while ago, which he was immensely grateful for now. Being in your home while you weren’t there felt wrong, but you had told him multiple times before that you didn’t mind, and this was an emergency. He needed to win the heart of your cat. And he tried his best: he made sure to bring treats. He tried to give Bobby some freedom while getting closer to him. He brought him new toys.

The beginning was hard. Every day he was covered in more and more scratches, was confronted with hisses and hateful looks. The worst part was trying to hide his injuries from you, but he somehow managed. And then, one day when he was ready to give up, it happened. Heeseung was sitting in front of the little bowl that he filled with treats, new scratches spread all along his arms and legs, his mind far away, when he suddenly heard a crunch. And another one. And another. He looked up, eyes full of shock and surprise. In front of him was Bobby, happily eating the treats he brought him. Heeseung couldn’t believe it. Did his hard work really pay off? He could feel himself tearing up a bit. “Look what you did to me. Now I’m crying about a cat.”, he whispered. Bobby lifted his head and looked at him. Heeseung held his breath. Was this really the moment he waited for for so long? Slowly he reached out to the cat. Hand lingering in the air, waiting for a reaction. Bobby seemed to be waiting for something too. He was hesitant, but apparently Heeseung did something right, because a couple of seconds later Bobby extended his little wet nose and sniffed his hand. Heeseung couldn’t even begin to describe all the emotions he felt in that moment. Happiness, relief, the fear that he might be doing something wrong that could destroy everything that happened today. His hands started to shake, which in turn startled Bobby. He twitched, eyes wide open, staring at the boy who looked back at him, just as scared. And somehow Bobby seemed to understand. He didn’t dare to get close to him again, but he sat down and ate the treats that were still left in the bowl. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get away from Heeseung, calmly finishing the meal and stretching himself before he shuffled into the living room. All the while the boy sat on the cold kitchenfloor and couldn’t believe what just happened.

When he came back the next day, he was terrified that he might just have imagined yesterday’s events, that he would enter the house and Bobby would hiss at him like all the times before. But when he opened the door the cat was not running away. Quite the contrary: Bobby gave him a little meow and a nudge at his foot, before he walked into the kitchen, sat down, and looked at the boy. Heeseung felt relief wash over him. So it really wasn’t just in his imagination. He really managed to get into little Bobbys heart. Another little meow brought him back to reality and he hurried into the kitchen to give the cat some new treats. While Bobby was eating Heeseung had to sit down on the couch. After so many months of knowing the cat he was finally making progress. He couldn’t wait to see your face when you noticed it. He started to daydream again – thinking about your beautiful smile that was so full of happiness and love every time you looked at him. And soon it would no longer be clouded by frustration when Bobby was spending his evening in a corner, a look of anger and betrayal on his face.

The next few days were probably the most stressful ones. He was making huge progress with Bobby. He not only started eating the treats right out of Heeseungs hand, but he also allowed the boy to pet him. One time he even sat next to him on the couch and began purring. Heeseung couldn’t believe his luck. Now that he got along with Bobby he could not remember why it wasn’t like that since the beginning. The annoyance he felt previously when he saw how sad you got whenever Bobby ignored him was by now replaced with… love? Affection? He wasn’t entirely sure. But he knew that he started to look forward to each meeting with the little ball of fur. He noticed his mood getting better every time he stepped through your door, and the way a bright grin lit up his face every time he heard a meow. Okay, maybe he knew what he felt for Bobby: he was completely in love with the little guy.

While he was making great progress with your cat, he was desperately trying to hide that from you. He wanted to surprise you and that wouldn’t work if he came over and Bobby was suddenly nice to him. So he postponed your meetings, again and again. Told you he had to work late, he had to help his friends, had to go shopping for his family. You weren’t happy, but you had no reason to not believe him. And luckily for Heeseung it didn’t take long for him to fully capture Bobbys heart, just like the little guy had captured his. A week later he decided that it was time to stop his hiding. He called you, and after apologizing for 10 minutes you decided to forgive him and invite him over for a movie night. The movie night at which you saw your boyfriend and your cat cuddling on the couch for the first time. And Heeseung was right. Your face was so full of love, of adoration, and he could see tears of happiness glistening in your eyes. And in that moment everything just felt right.

here it is, my first little story! I hope you like it. Special thanks to @maeum-your @blessed-sky and @sunoona for the motivation and the support, i love you 💖

do you want more stories involving enhypen and cats? click here !

[soulwillower]

housesitting •  richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: no

had this in my drafts and figured i’d finish it and post it, sorry for being away, but idk if i’ll keep writing! hope you enjoy, i’ll prob still come back and update/post fics on this account on occasion. love u guys lots and i hope you’re all doing okay <3333

warnings: drinking, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), light deepthroating/face fucking, praise kink, degradation, use of the words slut, whore, etc, suuuper unedited

(losers + reader are 21+.)

4.7k words

♡

the moment you stepped back into your flat, dropping your bag heavily on the ground with a sigh, you finally felt like you could breathe. 

today and yesterday had been a nightmare - you and your roommate bill had gone home, planning to stay for a week with family and friends back home. 

you'd spent the first night out with old friends at the bar enjoying yourselves and  you'd even gone home with a handsome boy you'd had a crush on in high school. but just as he was about to go down on you, after you'd gone down on him despite how terrible his b.o. was, he said he wouldn’t because it was 'gross.' 

you hate to admit but you were slightly tipsy and horny, so you still stayed for ten minutes of awful, boring missionary before he fell asleep. then when you'd left in the uber, a voice message from your boss threatened to fire you if you didn't come in and finish a project - so you had to scramble for a flight home, leaving bill back with your friends in maine for a few days, and now you're just ready for a shower, a nicely packed bowl, and a large dinner. 

because good god, that was an awful trip. 

"hello?" you call, rubbing your eyes as you walk towards your kitchen, wondering if your roommate's best friend was still here - he was supposed to stay and take care of the apartment while you were away. 

but instead, your eyes landed on a complete mess in the kitchen; solo cups everywhere, trash, empty chip bags, furniture moved and counters sticky from spilt beer. 

"what the fuck?" you project, eyes landing on the figure who walks into the kitchen, towel hanging low on his hips as water drips from wet, shaggy curls of hair. you meet the bright eyes of richie tozier, your roommate’s best friend. 

he looks like a deer in headlights, his glasses slightly fogged as he blinks his eyes owlishly and you swear his eye lashes tangle together as he blinks. "oh, hey y/n, why are you here?" 

and honestly, richie has always made your fingers tingle and your abdomen clench when he so much as looks at you, despite bill’s groaning and glaring when you refer to him as ‘hot friend number one.’ (he had a lot of hot friends). 

but you’re wound up, stressed, frustrated, and exhausted so all you can do is look from the boy to the mess and then back, stunned, "this is my apartment." 

he chuckles, wiping a drip of water off of his chest. you have to fight to look away, feeling burning from irritation and also something else as your chest heaves. you're just so tired, and this boy who you don't know very well has trashed your place and maybe even had a party and you just want to smoke and go to bed and- 

"say, what are you doing back so soon, toots? thought i had the place to myself for the next five days." he says too casually, grinning like he's catching up with an old friend. his hand runs through his wet hair, droplets rolling down his bare skin and causing you to fight the urge to keep your eyes on his face.

you shake your head. "richie, why does my kitchen look like a scene from dexter?" you say, trying to keep yourself calm. 

he tilts his head in an irksome, handsome way that makes you want to scream, "pretty sure dexter was....murdering murderers, not slamming smirnoff at three am."  "clean it up! what gives you the nerve to have a party in someone else's fucking apartment? while they're gone?!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air. richie shrugs uncomfortably and you're briefly in shock at how much faith richie is putting in the small tuck he's made with the towel, barely keeping up on in his waist. he laughs somewhat nervously, "sheesh, doll, it would've been cleaned by sunday, you just surprised me and almost gave me a heart attack while i was in the shower. bill told me we could throw at your place as long as we were responsible." he sounds pretty genuine, but you're just so tightly wound and frustrated.

"well this," you gesture to your place, "is not responsible." you glare, "i'm going to shower. i've had a long fucking day, and when i get out the place better be fucking spotless and you better be gone. i'm not asking." you snap. 

he grins as you push past him, turning to watch you storm towards the bathroom with an apologetic grimace on his face. 

- 

you took as long as you could in the shower, savoring every warm drop until you stepped out of your bathroom, expecting to see an empty apartment. 

"what are you staring at?" the boy with the curls mutters as he fixes the wine glass he'd placed on the counter. you're pretty speechless as you look around, wondering how richie had managed to get your place more clean and inviting than how you'd left it. dishes are all clean, put away, the counters spotless; the oven is set with a timer for two hours, and the smell of lasagna invites your nose with a rumble of your stomach. two glasses of wine are poured, sitting at the counter as richie chews on his lip anxiously, hair glinting in the dark mood lighting from the lamp near the window. 

"i felt bad. you seem like you had a long day and i didn't mean to make it worse." he admits. 

you step forward, suddenly feeling hot as you watch him, his jaw clenched slightly and sharper than you remember it. he's actually really fucking beautiful, you realize. 

"you didn't have to do all this." you say, biting your lip as you take the wine glass from his hand. 

"i know." he says with a cocky smirk. your face feels hot as you watch him slide out the stools by your breakfast bar, sitting down and sipping on his own wine. 

with a smile, you sit next to him. he was always the friend of bills that made you the most flustered - he's a tall, loud, garish bartender who spends most his time doing stand up at the clubs on the weekends even though he studied applied mathematics in school. he's the kind of boy that everybody has a crush on, because he's got that dorky yet beautiful sculpt; dark, curly locks, pale skin with a splattering of bright freckles. his eyes pierce yours whenever you're in the same room and his grin makes your stomach flip on it's head. 

"so, why'd you come back early?" richie asks as he takes a sip, eyes staring at you brightly from behind the rim of the glass. you huff a small bitter laugh, "my boss told me i had to come back because we're understaffed. told me the extra hours are 'building charater' or something. but i was having a shitty trip anyways, so i may as well just volunteer my time." 

he laughs, muttering, "good girl. doin' the lords work." you almost laugh but his words have heat sent straight between your legs and you can't tind words, suddenly in a state of shock. oh, god, this wine is getting to you.

richie's always been so hot, you're not surprised that one casual phrase had you so frantic like this. you blink, richie muttering, "y/n?" gently. 

you shake your head, snapping to look at him, "y-yeah? sorry, i just- what did you say?" you're embarrassed. you're embarrassed because richie didn't even mean it like that and you didn't expect to like being called that by him and you're embarrassed because he knows now, god look at his smirk, you're done for. 

"i asked why your trip was shit." he says simply, smirk on his face causing your face to heat up even more. you sigh, eyeing him, "i tried to enjoy myself and then i have the worst hookup experience of my life. then i came back to a messy apartment." you admit, shaking your head as richie pours you both another glass of wine, "the worst? that's a shame. what'd he do, throw up on you?" 

you laugh, "no, nothing like that. he was a minute man, and he refused to..." you shake your head, wondering why you're admitting this to a guy you barely know. you've never hung out one-on-one before with him.  "-he made me do all the work. and then he fell asleep. the worst part is, i've liked him since high school." you admit, dropping your face into your hands as richie lets out a chuckle. 

richie's shaking his head, "see, those types are the ones who just shouldn't be allowed in the gene pool. lazy. missin' out on all the fun, especially with a gal like you." he says with a wink. you laugh, face feeling hot. "i'm no fun." you say bashfully. 

richie raises his brows with a grin, his smile making you melt, heat pooling in between your legs from the way he runs his fingers across the rim of his glass. "i highly doubt that, doll." 

his eyes dip down in a not-so-subtle way as he takes in your body, biting his lip and making you clear your throat with a heated face. "sorry you had to put up with a guy who couldn't fuck you the right way. and that your boss also fucked you. and that i ruined your night." 

you shake your head, "i just had so much pent up stress from the last few days." he's eyeing you, and you wonder if he wants to fuck you as bad as you want to be fucked right now. would bill kill you? yeah, he would, but richie is so damn fine and you were left so high and dry last night that you’re just about ready to jump onto his lap. 

as if reading your mind, richie hums, "bill's still in maine, yeah?" he asks casually, eyes fluttering to the timer on the oven that ready an hour. 

you nod, "yeah, he's actually hanging out with the guy i hooked up with tonight." you say with a light huff. richie groans a laugh, "no fuckin' way. i promise, not all of bill's friends are bad at sex." richie says with a grin, and you laugh. "you sure about that?" 

he hums, eyeing you but not responding. 

“guess i’ll just have to find out.” you say boldly, butterflies fluttering in your chest when richie shoots you a deep look, slicking his lips through a smile. he hums, "so i don't get it, what was so bad about it?" 

you sigh, "he wouldn't go down on me. said he was 'too tired' and ‘too much work’ then he wanted to lay down so i rode him for, like, five minutes and then he fell asleep." 

richie's laughing, and you swat his arm as your face burns, "it's not funny! it's humiliating, richie." 

he snorts, standing up to place your empty glasses in the sink, recycling the empty bottle. "sorry, doll. that's just shit. he should've at least had the decency to make you cum." 

you almost choke on your spit at his bluntness, face blossoming and thighs tingling. "y-yeah." 

"anyways, i can get going, if you'd like. guess i’m done being the house sitter. the lasagna will be done in an hour or so." he says with a nod, eyes staring at yours fiercely. you hum, standing up as richie walks closer. "or you could stay." you say, looking up at him from where he stands in front of you. 

"you lonely or somethin', doll?" he rumbles lowly, lifting a brow. biting your lip, you swallow, "something like that." you say, lifting a challenging brow. 

“so if it was stan here, or mike...” he starts, walking towards you until he’s close enough that you’re afraid he can hear your heart thump, “you’d want them to stay?” 

you swallow dryly, “if bill lived with someone else, would you want to stay?” his smirk makes you clench your thighs. his long fingers raise and curl around your jaw, tilting your head back before tucking hair behind your ear. you swallow roughly, his hands are so big. his rings that he wears are thick and ice cold and feel so good against your warm face. 

your heart pounds as he smirks, eyes challenging you. the waiting is killing you.

"you've got a pretty mouth." he whispers, sending shocks all around your body. "y-you've got a pretty everything." you stutter out, feeling extremely flustered and suddenly shy. "thanks, honey." he says with a laugh, making you feel even more bashful.  

"y'know..." he drawls, hand settled on your neck, caressing your jaw, "i've wanted you since i first saw you." 

you can't help the whimper as it falls from your lips. it's a small, shy noise of need and it makes richie beam a beautiful, sexy grin that has your knees weak. "please..." you whimper, eyes staring at his, the suspense making you anxious with need. 

"please what?" he asks quietly, clearly loving the tense air. you almost roll your eyes, "kiss me." you say, rushed. 

he pulls away slightly, giving you a stern look. “please.” he says, smirk creeping onto his face. you burn in slight humiliation because he knows what he’s doing. 

“please kiss me, richie.” you finally say, swallowing.

"good girl." he says with a smirk and you feel like you're burning up under his gaze. but then he’s leaning in and his lips are on yours and wow, richie is a good kisser. he’s pulling you towards him tightly, hungrily; his teeth bite gently at your lower lip as his tongue swipes your own, pulling you into him. he was needy in the way he kissed you, a dominance in him that you're not surprised to find. you craved it, you craved him; and then he's pushing you back, up onto the stool as he moves between your legs. 

his mouth is then marking your neck, claiming you, and you love it, the feeling of his teeth against your warm skin, the sweetness of his smile against you.

his hands brush up your thighs and past the hem of your shorts, legs spread so he’s pressed flush against you, his bulge so close to where you want him. "richie," you let out a mangled whimper, hair knotting in his soft curls. he laughs, lips finding your ear, "always wondered how you'd sound when i had you like this," he says quietly, "can't wait to hear what pretty noises you make when i'm inside you." 

his fingers find the damp seat of your panties, dancing across it and making your legs shake with anticipation and neediness. you’re already a soaked, mewling mess as you grasp for him, hungry and needy and you want him closer, closer. 

he pulls you off the stool, then, and you both stare at each other for a moment. he almost dies at the state of you; already fucked-out, hair mussed up and still wet, your eyes lidded and your lips kiss-swollen. 

you can’t believe your eyes, richie’s curly hair fluffy from being freshly washed, the taste of wine on his lips, the freckles, the collarbone peeking from his collar, the smirk that could melt black ice. he looks like he could tear you apart. you hope he will. 

“you’re hot.” you blurt. 

he rushes at you again, melding your lips together with a searing hot kiss as he shoves you backwards towards the bedrooms. 

"bill told me to stay away from you," richie says as he walks you down the hall, your feet nearly stumbling and shaky as you walk backwards, lips seeking his every moment, "he said i'd ruin you." he adds. 

you lift a brow, too flustered to say anything as you stare up at richie, inhaling sharply as his hand trails down to cup your ass lightly, still walking backwards. "he knows how pretty i think you are. how hot, how... perfect." he whispers into the skin of your neck, raising goosebumps. "but i want to fuck you so well you forget your name. i don't care about what bill wants." 

you look at him, desperate and needy. "i don't give a fuck what bill says. i want you, please." you say, pawing richie and kissing him needily. richie’s leaving dark love bites on the column of your neck and you know it's wrong, and you shouldn't, but you let him kick open the door into bill's room, guiding you to bill’s bed instead of yours. “please, wan’ you so bad,” you pant, the needy throbbing getting unbearable, desperate for some release. 

“how bad, pretty girl?” he asks, smoothing down your hair. biting your lip, you sit on the bed, eyes level with the zipper of his pants. the sight of you staring up at him from below his hard, clothed cock makes his pants feel even tighter and he hums, "you sure?" 

you nod enthusiastically, "wanna make you feel good, please." he lets out a soft noise as your hands go to pull down his fly, “filthy girl." he says lowly, making heat drip from your core. you shift, trying to relieve some pressure. you feel hot when you realize you want him to degrade you, that you love it. “god, say that again.” you moan, mouthing around his bulge. his hands come to caress your face, watching you, 

"you like being my little whore, huh? so good just for me. bet you’ve thought of my cock in your mouth before, haven’t you?" 

you nod, biting your lip. he grins and you’re moving to pull him out of his pants, trying to conceal your shocked face as you take in his size. your cheeks heat up, hand grazing his length and meeting his own hand as he pumps himself a few times, lining his tip up to your lips. 

“open.” he says simply and you comply willingly, laying your tongue out. he’s teasing his cock on your tongue and you’re whining, desperate to feel him in your mouth, to make him feel good. 

“just wait until i say so, baby.” he says, slapping your tongue lightly with his cock and making you shift on your legs, dripping wet.

he groans, one hand coming to hold your head softly, making you tingle. you watch as he stares at you, lips parted and eyes blown wide. his cock is glistening with precum as it lays on your tongue. “suck my cock pretty girl.” he mutters, caressing your cheek. so you close your lips, slowly sucking on his tip before taking a bit more, moving your head slowly. 

you lick a stripe up the base of his cock and up to his tip, swirling your tongue. he groans in relief and pleasure as you take as much of him into your mouth as possible slowly, bobbing your head and taking as much in as you can. he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, and the need to feel him inside you and to make him fall apart has you taking him as deep as you can.

you take him deeper, your eyes clouding with tears as you try not to gag and he hums, hands pulling your hair from your eyes - you can tell he’s straining not to buck his hips as you bob up and down on him.

“god, you feel so good, y/n.” he groans. you pull back, sucking on his tip as you swirl your tongue, catching your breath. his hands fall to your head and he gently, slowly thrusts his hips slightly. you gag, mouth wet as he pulls out of your mouth and wipes the trails of spit from your lips. “do it again, please.” you gasp, and he grins. “such a  slut.” 

he guides your face back to him, “tap me three times if it’s too much.” you take him in again, holding as long as you can and loving the way he’s thrusting into your mouth. he groans, both hands on your head, his chest rising and falling shakily.

"god, that’s so perfect. my good little toy.” he rumbles and your chest flutters. you feel him twitch and you sense he may be close, so you start to bob your head again.

he stops you, "no, pretty girl. i'm going to cum inside of you, okay?" you swallow, mouth dry, "okay." please. 

he sinks to his knees, gently pushing you so you're laying down on the bed again, pulling your legs so they hang off the side of the mattress. he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear following as he spreads your legs wider, kissing your thighs. “look at that pretty pussy. soaked, all for me.”

you're breathing shakily as one finger rises to gently rub your slit, making you moan softly. his touch is feathery-light, teasing you and making you whine, moving your hips. "shhh." he says softly, bringing his tongue to lick up your slit. you moan out, relieved to have some sort of satisfaction. richie's hand moves up to push up your top, thumbing your nipples as he starts to suck your clit. he pins your hips down, "be a good slut and stay still for me." he says, burying his face as your toes start to curl in pleasure, the burning sensation of pleasure increasing. 

he rubs circles into your hips with one hand as he slides two fingers into your heat, making you whimper, his fingers start to pick up pace as he continues to circle your clit with his tongue. his long fingers curl up inside of you, still pushing into you fast and rough, hitting your g-spot. you moan, “richie, harder, please.”

he hums, lifting his head as you gasp for breath, "since you asked so nicely, doin' everything i say." his fingers are moving again, faster than before. his tongue runs over your clit, practically moaning into your heat, fingers moving faster. you moan unabashedly, feeling yourself clench and knowing you're about to cum. your legs wrap around his shoulders as your hips move slightly, 

“cum on my tongue like a good little slut, okay baby?” he says gently. you moan, eyes shutting as you see stars. you're hitting your high and then richie's watching you, praising you as you fall apart, letting out soft whimpers. 

then you're sitting up as he rises from his knees, licking his lips. pulling him into a searing kiss, he crawls on top of you, rutting into you a few times before pulling back. 

he's pulling himself out of his pants and you swallow around your words, resisting the shocked face that threatens to creep on to you when you see how big he is. you moan as you watch him pump himself, pulling off his shirt as you pull off your own. 

he grins as he looks at you, "so good for me, my little slut. you want me to fuck you now?" he asks and you eagerly pull yourself up to your elbows, "yes, please, rich, fuck me." 

he hums, pushing his cock against your slit, the tip rubbing your sensitive clit and making you moan sharply. he continues to tease you, one hand on his cock and the other holding your waist. "use me, please." you whisper in his ear, hand holding him to you from the back of his neck. 

he lets out a sharp breath, hand snaking to your neck and pushing you back onto the mattress. "you want me to use you?" he asks, thrusting against you slowly, teasing your slit. "like my little plaything?" 

"yes, god, richie, please-" but then he's sliding into you all at once, his large cock stretching you as he moves his hips, sheathing into you. you feel so full that all you can do is gasp, richie kissing your forehead as his hand rests on your throat. "gonna fuck you on bill's bed, okay? and you're gonna be good for me, right? my good little cockslut." 

you nod yes, "so good for you." you say, and he smiles. he starts to pull out, easing back in and starting a shallow rhythm, getting you used to his size. you're euphoric as he starts to languidly pump into you, one hand on your neck and the other on your chest, palming your tit. 

he starts thrusting into you, picking up speed - rough and fast. his hips buck up against you, pulling back fully before filling you up. his thumb gently grazes your sensitive clit and you grip his bare back, raking your nails down in pleasure. "do you walk around thinking of how it'd feel to get fucked by me, baby?" he whispers in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. you moan, "yes, r-rich, i've wanted you for s-so long," you trail off into a moan. "feels so good." you mutter, panting, words babbling from your mouth incoherently. 

you barely have a warning before you cum a second time, clenching so hard that richie's hips sstutter, his moan ringing with your own. he looks down at you, thumb trailing into your open mouth, you eagerly sucking on it like a lollipop. "god, you're so tight, doll. such a good little whore for me. i bet you'd let me do anything to you, anywhere." 

your legs are shaking as he keeps thrusting you through your orgasm, feeling sensitive and euphoric. he smirks, "yeah? bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, just my little fuck toy. so perfect for me." 

you nod, kissing him needily, tears from oversensitivity pricking your eyes. "want you filling me up richie, feels so good." 

"anywhere?" he asks, eyebrows knit in pleasure as he fucks into you. he's so possesive, it makes your face warm. you nod, "anywhere." 

he's smirking, and you know he's thinking about how shocked bill would be if he found out. it makes it that much hotter as you turn and see the picture of bill and richie on the wall near the door. 

then richie pulls out of you and you're being flipped onto your knees, richie's large hand pushing your face towards the soft sheets. you can't help the moans that escape you as he spits onto your dripping cunt, fingers playing with your used pussy as you moan, sensitive and still desperate. "pretty baby, all fucked out. can you take one more?" he asks, hands roaming your ass. you nod, yelping gently when a hand smacks down on your ass. 

"can you take one more?" he asks. "yes!" you moan into the mattress with need. he mutters, "good girl." as he pushes into you, the new angle making you moan loudly. with every thrust, he pushes you down on the mattress, making you grip against the edge of it with pleasure. one of his hands drops down to rub your clit, and you buck needily against his touch. after only a few minutes, the combination of the snap of his hips, the few slaps on your ass, and his hands on your clit push you over the edge, clenching around his cock as you whimper. your legs barely stay up after you cum, and his arm wraps around you to hold you as he pounds into you, chasing his own high. 

"yes, my pretty girl, so good." he praises again, hips speeding up. you think he's close because his breathing is faster, hands gripping your hips hard as he kisses down your spine, "take it." he whispers onto your back as he finally cums, pulling out and finishing on your ass and lower back, moaning lightly. 

you can't believe what just happened as richie disappears, returning at the speed of light with a damp washcloth to clean you off. you blush at how sweet the gesture is before he falls next to you on the bed, sighing. "i'll be honest, i didn't expect that." 

you laugh, "neither did i. i thought i was coming home to an empty apartment and some microwave ramen." 

he's staring at you, a smirk on his face, “i'd apologize again but holy fuck, you look so pretty when you cum.” you don't know what to say, feeling hot as you roll your eyes with a grin. he laughs and kisses you, “you’re cute, you know.” 

"says you." you mutter against his lips. you thank god bill won't be back soon as you watch his best friend rise, naked, from beside you and grab a spare hoodie and gym shorts from bill's closet, throwing them on before handing you his own shirt to wear.

"so, lasagna?" he asks, glasses askew slightly. you laugh as you stand on shaky legs, "it's the least you could do." you joke. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters  @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

[monstas1ut2]

2/3 Eren Yeager (Smut Warning!)

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucka!

The screenshot sound was pretty loud as your back went up and down like a roach sprayed with raid. The male on the other side of the phone laughing his ass off. Well, he wasn't the only one.. but he's the one who took the screenshot.

"Delete that shit, don't put it on Instagram Connie!" Your pretty face was immediately in the camera's view. Your eyes a little wide at the fact that you were caught off guard. But at the same time, you let yourself go in front of the group. That's your wrong doing. But it made them smile nonetheless.

The people who were on the call at the moment were Connie, Jean, and Sasha. The rest were either too bothered to be in such a crackhead group, or they were busy.. probably the first one. Anyways, everyone in first period happened to be your friend, they were all different but they adored you nonetheless... even Annie... she just hides hers pretty well. Anyways, It's almost the end of senior year already and the bond is hard to break..

"That's my favorite song, you can't be catchin a hoe off guard.." you scolded the bald male who still happened to be laughing. His controller in his hand since he was playing nba2k. Jean was also playing but at the moment he was trying to figure out what you were doing.. and he's mad he didn't see..

"What did she do now?!"

"She was throwing her back out of place!" Sasha muffled out as she was stuffing her cheeks with a Hershey chocolate bar. She was also watching Hell's Kitchen on her tv, you could hear it.

"Daddy Jean aint need to hear all that.." you playfully spoke as you bit your lip at him. It was obvious he liked you, not to the point where he wanted a relationship though.. he's just a bit of a man whore.

Though everytime you mumble a 'Daddy Jean' , he's all for it. That's yo bitch.

After a bit of a pause of talking, Connie had picked up his phone and you were now cleaning the table that was in your room. The last time you were in this room, you didn't even have time to clean... Your father was screaming for you to hurry.

Let's explain, this weekend, you are visiting Hange, your mother . She missed you so she invited you to stay for a few days. Today is Friday so you have the whole weekend with her. She had planned Saturday and Sunday. Not to mention, Monday is a holiday so no school. 

"Hey guys... uh Armin and Eren having a party.. y'all comin?"

All while Sasha said yes, along with Jean.. you were still jamming to 2-pac spitting his shit. Your hand movements not going unseen by the three on your phone. So in result of not having a response from you, Connie screamed oh so suddenly which caused you to jump pretty high.

"What the Fuck is yo problem!? You bein held by gunpoint nigga?" Your voice showing 1% concern as you moved closer to the phone on your dresser and you stared into it.. quite surprised still.

"(Y/n)... you makin my hair fall out..." Connie spoke as he gave a sarcastic smile and... wow it was hard for everyone to suppress their laughter... your face would turn purple instead of red though..

"Ight~... watchu want?..."

"Eren-"

"Oooh, Eren.." you spoke in interest, your long eyelashes fluttering. This however made Jean and Connie 'throw up' at the same time. All while you rolled your (e/c) eyes.

"Yall do too much-.. and Jean, stay in yo game ight?.. befo I come through the screen and punch-"

"Eren havin a party.. are you going..?"

Tilting your head in slight disbelief that Connie interrupted you. Your eyes rolled as you looked to the side. Obviously leading them on, but at the same time they knew that Hange will let you go...

"Fine. But somebody pickin me up.. and Sasha cuz boo-boo can't drive worth a dime.."

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

As much as you hated it, you sat uncomfortably in the dodge... Ugh... It's just something about you and dodge's. The cars radiate fuck boy energy, and guess who happened to be driving this car? Jean..

Though he let you sit in the passenger seat just because. Your eyes staring out the window as you messed with the stockings you had on. They were in a bit of a web, that was the design. You also had on a plaid skirt and this crop top with some white platforms. Oh you looked scrumptious.

The person who put this outfit together in the first place was Hange.

"Baby Jean, you need a new car... cuz-"

"It radiates Fuck boy energy.. you said it the first time you ever saw it... I know.." Jean pouted as he continued to drive to Eren's house. Who was shared with Armin. The two always lived together, some speculated that they were... sparkle sparkle.. gay.. but they aren't.. not that you would've minded.. it just would've been a bummer.

"(Y/n)... Didn't Your father take your car away...?"

Glaring back at Connie, who was wearing a white shirt with black pants and some timbs. You rolled your eyes and looked through your window again.

"Yeah but my car is a Mitsubishi.."

The neighborhood around these parts were quite pretty. Just like where you lived with your dad. But at the same time you were confused as to how Eren and Armin could afford such a place. The first thing popping in your mind being. Drug dealer and then you thought about what Sukihana said about dating them...

That's probably why Levi didn't want you around him... Yeah.. This whole senior year has been Levi making sure Eren doesn't sit beside you... nor have a project with you... It's like he barely existed at first. Though you always had these ways to talk to him. He's not even that bad.. he's quite the hottie and he knows what to say... he's just a flirt, and you edge him on every time...

"(Y/n)! Can you come with me to find the food?"

Snapping out of those thoughts of Eren, you didn't even realize Jean had already parked. A small 'mhm' coming from your throat as you opened the car door. Everyone else doing the same. Lord it was a bunch of people out here. People were outside and inside which was baffling honestly.

A soft hand touched your wrist and started to drag you towards the house door. It was Sasha, her mouth almost watering for something to eat. She told Eren to make sure there was extra cheese in the fridge for her. Hidden... and lo and behold when you both shimmied through the crowd, the cheese was in the fridge. Her eyes beaming as she grabbed some chips as started eating like it was her last meal, nothing out of the ordinary.

"This music actually hits..." you spoke out to nobody in particular as your hips started to move ever so gently. Though as nice as your body was, it looked more seductive than anything. Popping one of those chips into your mouth as your hips continued to wine ever so gently.

The looks you were getting, not only lustful but want... The way your long dreads just complimented your look had only made it worse. The second you decide to stop, it seemed like everyone stopped looking at you. In slight despair that you'd stopped. Though one individual in particular was continuing to stare...

His hand, wrapped around the cup as he'd sipped at the liquid inside. The black ring on his middle finger caused his hand to look hotter than it already was. He had these prominent veins that would just look so pretty on your brown skin...

"She likes you too..." the blonde that was a tad bit shorter spoke to his childhood friend, Eren.

"What makes you say that..." lord, somehow over all this music, and his low tone... you could still feel the vibration of Eren's voice. Just glancing from the kitchen as Eren was sitting on the couch in the living room. Leaning back like he owned the place... well he did.

Fine ass..

Giving him a bit of a stare, your glossy lips curved into a smirk as you glanced at him up and down. All before turning your attention back to your friend who was having the time of her life eating...

"So Sash.. what's up with you and Connie...? Yall gon date.. or-"

"(Y/n)!"

"My bad.. my bad.. I just wanted to know"

The party was a bit lively, more than anything since this is a longer weekend. So everyone was happy.. including you because they were playing your favs. So of course your body started to move again. That skirt of yours being a paid actress in helping you look more hot. Though, what you did not expect was someone coming up behind you...

Now that's nasty..

You whipped your head around about to give them an earful... though... you saw that smexy... face and you looked kinda shocked...

"Oh..." you choked out before turning your head again.. Eren's evil little smirk had caught you off guard. It boosted his confidence even more that you didn't feel the need to even move away from him. His hands slithering onto your full hips.

Man, he was really risking everything this time... considering your father is.. Levi...

This however was thrown out of the window because of the fact that you could feel Eren's... crotch against that thick form of yours. That little smirk on your face only widening as you started to gently rub against him, your back bending over somewhat.

His long brown hair then started to ever so gently fall in front of his face as his greenish eyes stared hard into your body. That harsh little grip on your waist made you feel all different types of high. Gawd.

"You like that huh...? I know.." your cute, but seductive voice made Eren chuckle just a tad. It causing you to almost choke on those words.. This man didn't need to TRY to be hot... he was already smexy.

His hands then started to travel up your body to your arms and he gently pulled you up towards him, your back against his scrumptious chest. All you could do was open your mouth a bit, quite surprised that he wanted to be this close with you.

"Eren... You a lil close... you needa tell me sum?"

The way you spoke, the way you carried yourself... it was new to Eren when he first met you.. but he got used to it real quick and he noticed he wanted something he never knew existed.. and that was you.

"Can't tell you here... but I can tell you in the bedroom..." Eren purred out, his voice smooth as a babies skin, smooth as butter. It caused you to tingle, the female between your legs wanting that more than anything.

Biting your glossy lips, the room started to become hotter than it already was. The people who were in the house started to pile out of the main and started to go outside. It was quite cold outside as well, but the party continues.

"Where the hell is (Y/n)..." Jean spoke to himself as he watched Connie and Sasha become drunks in two seconds. It was obvious he himself could not drink since he is the driving parent tonight.. but he now had nothing to do... he's just wondering where... you are..

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

"S-..Shit Eren~..."

The (f/c) nails you had were now digging into Eren's muscular arms as his lips caressed your neck. The seductive kisses making dark marks on your brown, beautiful skin.

Your head being thrown back onto the soft black pillow as your pretty toes curled. Feeling Eren's slender fingers inside of your pussy. His intimidating green eyes watching your every expression, every move. Seeing that your crop top was already rolled up over your pretty chocolate mound breasts that were covered with your bra.

"E-Eren, s-stahp..." choking that out, you could hear the loud rip of your stockings when Eren moved his hand out of them. The wetness of your brown pussy lips being known pretty well when Eren's fingers slid your panties to the side.

"You don't want me to stop... huh...?"

"N-No.."

The electricity shocked through you when you watched Eren stare down into your eyes. Lust and want, all in them as his key necklace dangled in front of your face ever so gently.

His shirt immediately being discarded as he watched your pussy pulse from his fingers being pulled away from it. It was amazing to him how much you wanted him.. it was amazing... it ran something through him...

All you could see was his muscular frame, his hands to match as he easily tore through your bra. Watching the way your breasts fumbled out of the cups. He never seen a black woman's breasts before.. but it couldn't get any better than this though.. is what he thought.

"Daddy~... don't stare at em..." you pouted playfully before licking your glossy lips. Just running your fingers up Eren's arms as you eventually made your way up to his luscious hair. Running your fingers through the locks. Pulling him down ever so gently to finally get that kiss you wanted.

Eren's eyes glowed when he felt your soft lips, the lip gloss giving him this taste of lovely. His lips tasted of some sugar, kinda made you wonder what was in his cup before this.

The wetness of Eren's tongue touching yours as the both of you withered in this naughty, sloppy kiss. Something you both weren't supposed to do.... It was fun, crazy... scary..

"You act all bad outside of the bedroom huh... but you ain't ever have someone touch you..." Eren teased gently, in a whisper against your lips. His hand gripping your chin as he stared at your innocent looking face. Gently spitting all nastily into your mouth and you moaned out seductively. Swallowing it so easily..

"Show daddy you'll be able to take it..."

Eren's cock was so hard in his pants, it being unzipped by him and his underwear was now restricting his release. His eyes staring at your pretty pussy, the wet, pink insides were bright and untouched. Though his pale cock was eager to invade it.

"I-.. I can take it daddy..." your whimpers echoed In Eren's ears as he pushed his underwear down. Your knees being pushed to your chest as you felt Eren's stare. The plaid skirt you had was still on, so you tried to cover your pretty pussy with it.

"Stop... don't hide now.." Eren scoffed out as he gripped under your thighs, the underside of his cock rubbing up and down your wet and gooey pussy.

"Hold your legs... don't move.."

It was so demanding, your pussy clenching already as the wetness dripped down to your other hole. Your pretty, long nails visible to Eren as you held your legs as tightly as you could. Knowing Eren's cock was a monster. You could see it... right between your legs.. right between your brown pussy lips.. the contrast was unbelievable..

"F-Fuck!! Eren~~ ow~" the way your painted toes curled gave Eren a shiver of excitement. Your back arching ever so slightly as your virgin hole was taken away from you. Squeezing tightly around Eren's experienced cock.

"Shh.. it's Ight.. take it babydoll.." Eren's whisper was gentle and sincere as his thumb started to gently rub at your clit. Causing you to swallow your spit, though it spilled out. What also spilled out is your loud whimper. Your legs staying wide open for him as your hand slowly slid up his muscular structure.

"It's .. i-it's so big..."

Hearing these whimpers and words spill from your throat, Eren couldn't help but take his hand and wrap it around your throat. Causing your breath to be taken away oh so suddenly when Eren snapped his hips forward even more.

"Fuck!" Your moan could probably be heard outside as your breasts bounced from the impact. Eren's smirk wide as he felt the tightness of your insides. His necklace going back and forth ever so gently as his pelvis started to clap against you. The feeling was so foreign to you, having someone ram into you like this. But it was Eren... it wasn't just 'someone'..

Your (f/s) scent was powering against Eren's own scent. The feeling of Eren's cock was starting to really take a toll on you..

"A-Ahgh..."

Eren's cock was being enclosed so tightly, you just wet up his Dick so well.. he was starting to become obsessed.. more than he already was.

"Daddy's. little. pussy..." his deep voice echoed in your ears as he started to get a bit faster. Your breasts bouncing even more as Eren made sure that skirt was moved out the way. He wanted to make sure to see everything. His hand squeezing harder at your throat. It was keeping you firm against the bed, like a little fuck doll...

"I-it's your pussy Eren~"

Curling those pretty toes again, you could feel the bubbles in your lower region. The craziest orgasm you've ever experienced... just tip toeing to the tippy top. All you could muster was a pathetic whine. Your eyes watering up behind your long eyelashes.

"I'm-.. I'm cumming..." Your voice was so weak, it sounded like you were passing out almost. Just rolling your eyes back as the bed frame started to hit the wall. Your pussy gushing more than usual as the white cum started to coat Eren's cock a little.

"Shit... yeah~..." Eren growled under his breath, watching you come undone on his pale cock. Your thicker form was just so adorable, looking all bent up. Your locs scattered around ever so softly.

It was like he was fucking a goddess...

Eren was between harsh and soft, his manhandling ways were shown easily by the way he pulled out quickly and turned you over. Your plump ass shaking like jello as his cock easily slipped inside once again.. filling you up for the second time. God you just couldn't wait till you could feel his cum...

"Imma Fuck you till you turn dumb..." Eren spoke harshly as his long fingers gripped at some of your locs. Pulling them and wrapping them around his wrist somewhat. Gaining all control over you and your own body...

He wasn't playing either...

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ Masterlist 2

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Good Girl, Bad Boy (Pt. 02 of 15)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.3 K

Summary: You're the extreme opposite of Billy Hargrove. The good girl, with perfect grades, the child every mother wants to have. And you don't want to have nothing to do with his kind. Ignoring Billy – and his constant, lingering stare – became an habit. But after you're put together for a special school program, you'll have no choice but to get along with him. And soon enough you'll find out that Billy is so much more than just Hawkins' bad boy.

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Growing Closer

You find Billy walking away from his locker, ready to go home. He's alone this time, and you heard something about Stacy being mad at him. You wonder what he did to her. Or if he just got tired and is now aiming for someone else.

“Hargrove.” You call when you're closer enough to be heard. Billy turns around immediately, and you both stop in the middle of the hall. “Do you happen to have some time? We need to discuss the calendar.”

“Sure.” He simply says, and it's clear to you he's pissed off already. He was forced into the program, so it's only normal he doesn't want to do that.

“We can hit the library. It remains open for two hours after class.” You can't help but notice some people staring. But that isn't a surprise. You and Billy are as different as day and night, and nobody expects to see you two talking.

“Sure.” He repeats, and a fun expression crosses his face before he steps aside, gesturing for you to walk.

Chuckling, you furrow your eyebrows, starting to make your way to the library.

You know the place by heart since you're here at least three times a week. Waving at the teacher who stays in the reception, you pick a table in the back, so your chattering won't bother anyone. Taking a seat, you watch as Billy settles down across from you.

It's a little weird at first, and a silence falls in between you two. You suddenly realize you've been staring at him, way too focused on his blue eyes. You didn't know Billy's eyes were so beautiful. But you quickly clear your throat, searching on your bag for your notebook.

“I made you this planner.” Pulling the paper sheet off the notebook, colorful by many different marker colors, you slide it over to him. Billy's eyes fall on it immediately, eyebrows raising. “It's just to help you keep up with everything until the end of the year. More stuff will probably be add, but don't worry, I'll let you know.”

“You have everything figured out, don't you?” He finally speaks up, holding the paper in his hands.

“I know you don't want to do this. But this is senior year and you're almost free. Just a little longer and this will be over.” Offering him a small smile, you put a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I won't repeat the year. My grades are enough to get me through.” He sounds a little angry, and you sigh.

You don't know what to say to make him cooperate if he doesn't want to. “Look, you can't get out of the Improvement Program. But you can pick another tutor. So if you want, I have a list of everyone who's still available and maybe if there's someone you already know or happen to be friends with–” As you speak, you start looking in your bag for the small blueish paper. “–you just have to talk to Mrs Martinez and–”

“I want you to be my tutor.” His voice startles you since it's a little too loud and because of the silence, it echoes a bit. “But just because I know you're the smartest person in this school.”

Biting your lip, you nod, not sure how you feel about his compliment. “Thanks... I try.”

“You freaking succeed,” Billy mutters, cupping his hands above the table.

There's heat creeping through your cheeks so you look away, bringing back to mind what else you must talk to him about. “So, the next project is a presentation on History about World War I. Our part is about the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, the invasion of Bosnia and Herzegovina, and the July crisis. The happenings before the war was set.”

“Great.”

“Shhh.” Someone says, and you look at a small group of people on your left.

“You shut up, asshole.” Billy raises his voice a little, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“Hey. Don't say that.” You warn him, giving the boy an apologetic look. “We're at a library, we're supposed to be quiet.”

“Excuse me.” Mr Williams comes, standing a few feet away. “Some students are complaining about your chattering, so I'll have to ask you to leave, please.”

“Oh...” Blushing a little, you start gathering your stuff. “Sorry, Mr Williams. We'll leave.” Billy is just about to say something when you give him a look.

You're quickly outside again, fixing the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “We...” Moving out of the way of some people heading to the library, you set into his pace, walking side by side. “We'll need some time to work on everything. So we can switch between your place and mine because doing things in the library won't work.” You feel a little shy to propose this, but it's not a big deal. You'll be doing this until the end of the year, so it's quite inevitable. “If that's ok with you, of course.”

“We should hit your place then. My father is home today, so... It just won't work.” There's a change in his voice, and you glance at him.

“My mother is home too. But she won't bother us.” Walking a little faster, you gesture at your car. “Just follow me.”

Billy nods, and you smile, giving him a little wave.

The school is empty, and so are the streets around it, so you have no trouble speeding away. Keeping your eyes on the review mirror, it only takes twenty minutes to get to your house, so you park on your usual spot, stepping out of the car and waiting for Billy to do the same. When he finally joins you on the porch, you move to unlock the door.

Billy couldn't help but feel lucky to be at her place. He never thought he'd come here, under any circumstances. Trying not to let her notice, he allows his eyes to wander a little as she opens the door, taking in the place (Y/N) calls home. It has a weird feeling for him, almost as if the place is sacred, somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.

“My mother is nice. But she may say some embarring stuff so... Be prepared.” Following her inside, Billy notices as her mother looks at them, eyes going a little wide to see him. He wonders if she isn't used to her daughter bringing boys home. Knowing (Y/N), he knows she's not. “Mom, this is Billy Hargrove. I told you about him yesterday, remember? From the Improvement Program.”

She told her mother about him. So yes, she was thinking about him. Maybe just for a couple of seconds, maybe just as someone she knows, who she has told to help. But it doesn't matter. (Y/N) was thinking about him, and for now, it's enough.

“Of course.” She stands up, coming to give her daughter a quick hug and shake Billy's hand. “I'm Amanda. (Y/N)'s mother.”

“It's good to meet you, Mrs–”

“Call me Amanda kid, or else I feel terribly old.” She jokes, kindly smiling. “I believe you'll be hanging around here a lot because of school. But don't worry, I won't get in your way.”

“Thanks, mom. We'll be in the dining room.” (Y/N)'s light touch on his forearm is enough to make him shot her a glance, almost too desperate, something in him wanting to ask her why she did such a thing. Billy curses himself as he follows her to the dining room for feeling so stupid. It's just a freaking touch. On his freaking arm. And she wasn't even giving it much thought.

As Billy settles down on the table, (Y/N) moves the centerpiece to the edge so they'll have more space. “Do you want anything? Water? Or some chips? I happen to have some.”

Her voice sends Billy into some kind of stupor. A guy like him shouldn't feel this way. (Y/N) is just a girl, and he had many. But none of them ever made him feel like this. Like his heart is trying to jump off his chest. After a year, he did think he got over it. But he was wrong. Billy didn't want to be this close to (Y/N), always watching her from a safe distance. But this stupid school had to put them together, so damn close. Look at him now, seated on her dining table, staring at her like a complete idiot.

Just because she offered him water and freaking chips.

“Water is nice.” He mumbles, eyes on her back as she walks away, passing behind his chair. A sweet scent irradiates from her. Like flowers, he doesn't know which one though, like freaking sunshine.

Laughing at his stupidity, Billy looks down at his hands. How can someone smell like sunshine? It's illogical.

“Get it together, she's just a girl,” Billy says to himself, resting his back against the chair and taking his jacket off, laying on the chair next to him. Girls are nothing new to him. He had they all figured out, their ways, how to break them, how to please them, how to bend them to his will.

But not (Y/N).

A nice girl like her is immune to his tricks. And that's good because if she wasn't, it would mean she could also fall on someone's traps. Like Tommy, or Jimmy, or Jackson. The very thought of those assholes with her, touching, caressing, kissing... It disgusts him, and he's quick to push such images away.

“Did you say something?” (Y/N) asks, coming back from the kitchen and handing him a glass with cold water. Once she's close enough, he takes a deep breath, and her sweet scent almost drives him mad.

She's not a girl for you, get it together. “No.” He mumbles, taking long sips before putting the glass down. “So what now?” He sounds a little rude, so he immediately clears his throat after, eyes on (Y/N) as she takes a seat next to him on the round table instead of across from him. Billy finds it odd, but he's thankful for the proximity. This way, he can be surrounded by her candy-like scent, trying to memorize it so he could play it back later. When he's into the nightmare he calls home.

You're just about to start, History books already on the table, since you'll begin with the presentation, notebooks and papers so you can take notes, but then you look at Billy. There's a bruise on the apple of his cheek that you haven't noticed it before.

“Did you get into a fight?” You ask, leaning slightly forward to take a better look.

“What?” There's a moment of confusion on his face before it changes. “Yeah.”

“Did you win?”

“In a way.” It doesn't look like he'll say anything else.

“Well, if someone punches you, make sure to beat them up.” Smiling a little, you take the History book, opening it on chapter 7. “What exactly do you know about–”

“Are you still dating Steve?”

The question takes you by surprise, making you nervously giggle. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just curious.” He shrugs his shoulders, tilting his head to the side. “Saw you two talking earlier today and he wouldn't be happy to know we'll be around each other a lot.”

“Steve is my friend. We dated last year but only for two months.” Avoiding Billy's eyes, you go through the book, not really paying attention to anything. You can feel his stare, and for some reason, your cheeks start heating up.

“Who broke up with who?”

Chuckling, you turn your body towards him. “Why do you want to know, Billy?” Maybe he's just trying to procrastinate. “Because if you're just trying to delay things I–”

“No, I really want to know.” He leans forward, pulling the book closer to him. “You and Harrington don't fit together, so I was surprised to see you hanging out with him last year.”

“Steve and I got pretty close when he dropped the jerk act. And we were both single so we decided to give it a try.” The only reason you're telling Billy this is because it's not a secret. Some people know and they probably didn't put any effort into keeping it hidden. “But it didn't click. We were dating but it wasn't really romantic, so...” You smile to remember it, and the memory that comes back is definitely a secret. Nancy is the only one who knows, her and Steve, obviously. But you guess it's ok to tell Billy, it's quite funny. And silly. “We... We never really kissed, you know?”

“What?” His voice startles you, and the genuine confusion on his face only makes you laugh. “You're joking.”

“I'm not, and if this gets out, I'll know it was you.” With a finger pointing at his face, you fake a threatening face. “So keep it between us or else.”

Pinching his eyebrows together, Billy seems amused. “Or else what?” His voice gets lower, as he leans closer.

“Or else I'll have no choice but to make out with Steve in front of the whole school.” In a sassy tone, you smile, biting your tongue not to laugh at his expression. Billy is... Impressed? Surprised, maybe. Something tells you he wasn't expecting this answer.

“Ew. Please don't.”

“Then don't tell anyone.” Shrugging your shoulders, you pull your feet up, crossing your legs on the chair. “Now, C'mon. World War I.”

“One more question and we get to it.” As he speaks, you feel him pulling your hand away from the notebook, forcing you to give him attention. “Why in the hell didn't you and Steve–”

“We kissed. I mean, those quick kisses, you know. Like when you say hi or goodbye. Just a peck in the lips. But that was it.”

“That was it?”

“That was it.” Giggling again, you assure him. Why is it so important to him anyway? “Now, can we start?”

You watch as Billy's eyes remain on you, burning, lingering. After a while, his lips break into a smile and he looks down at the book, shaking his head lightly. “Let's start.”

×

@multific @clockworkballerina @tina1938 @graciehams @moatsnow @all-the-stars-on-your-skin

[babymetaldoll]

Quarantine with Matthew Gray Gubler (MGG / Reader)

(Not my gif, thank you to whoever made it! )

Requested: Yes :)

Vivir en cuarentena con Matthew, y él hace en vivos por Instagram con y/n respondiendo preguntas de fans

Category: Fluff

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler / Reader

Summary: Matthew loves making people happy, and in quarantine, he finds the best way to keep in touch with his fans and do what he loves the most: spend time with (Y/N) 💜

Warnings: Nope

Word count: 2,2K

Masterlist

A/N: I am so sorry this request took me forever!!  Hello guys!!  thank you for all your comments, and love 💖 You are awesome!! hope you have a great week!!

.

Living in quarantine isn't as bad as many people think. It all depends on who you are spending your time locked in with. (Y/N) knew it pretty well, 'cos she had been locked with her husband, Matthew Gray Gubler, in their shared house for the last month.

And even when most people were sick and tired of being home, (Y/N)and Matthew managed to keep themselves busy and mentally sane. In fact, you could feel more stressed considering there was a pandemic and no one could see their loved ones and friends. But being with Matthew made it all so much bearable.

Considering Gubler's job kept him busy most of the time during a normal year and that he didn't have many chances to be home the way he was now, he enjoyed it.

Sleeping in was heaven. And the fact he could stay in, wearing pajama and kimonos, just enjoying his wife's company, was what he needed.

He didn't realize he needed to take a break after years of hard work until he was forced to do it. And god, it felt good.

(Y/N) would keep herself busy writing and reading while Matthew painted and draw by her side.

Their daily activities included: trying new recipes at least three times each week. Gubler would always come with some random exotic dish he always wanted to recreate. And six of eight times, he nailed it.

They would also spend a day in their pajamas doing nothing. Usually, it was Sundays. That was their official cuddles day. Just movies, ice cream, and cuddles.

Matthew also started teaching (Y/N) some magic tricks. She had insisted a few times, but he was very reluctant to do it at first.

- "A magician never shares his tricks, Bunny"- he argued for days.

- "Ok, but what if I am a magician too? Then it would be ok?"

(Y/N) was sitting on his lap, playing with some curls of his hair between her fingers. They were in their backyard, having a picnic. They had set a blanket and had some cookies (Y/N) had baked, along with two tall ice coffee Matthew had prepared, with an obscene amount of whipped cream.

- "And how are you planning to be a magician if you don't know any trick?"- he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

- "Just because you haven't taught me any trick doesn't mean I don't know any!"- she answered, pretending to be insulted.

- "My wife can do magic, and she never told me?"

- "There are a lot of things about your wife you still don't know"- (Y/N) teased and smiled at him.

- "Bunny, we are locked in this house until further notice. I think I have enough time to find out all those things I haven't seen in the last years."

(Y/N) had finally convinced him when she showed him a simple card trick her father had taught her when she was a kid. Gubler got so excited he even presided a ceremony to name her an official magician and invited their friends to be part of it via zoom. Everybody enjoyed their magic tricks and shared a good hour of fun and laughter with them, just like they would do live.

It felt good to be with their loved ones, even if it was just online.

That gave Matthew an idea.

- "Hey, Bunny!"- he walked into the kitchen holding his phone, scrolling down his Instagram feed.

- "What is it, honey?"- (Y/N) asked him as she kept chopping vegetables for dinner.

- "I was thinking maybe I should start doing Instagram live streamings with the fans. Maybe do some magic tricks, tell jokes. I don't know."- (Y/N) raised his eyes from the food and smiled.

- "Sounds awesome! when do you wanna start?"

- "Now?"- he answered a little hesitant

- "And what do you have in mind?"

- "Maybe answering questions and asking them if hanging out via Instagram is something they'd like to do."

(Y/N) chuckled and walked to her husband, pinching his cheeks, making him giggle.

- "You are so adorable, Gub. Like anyone wouldn't love to hang out with you."- he blushed and shook his head.

- "Ok, I'm gonna do it here anyway."

- "While I'm cooking?"- (Y/N) looked confused

- "Yes, I want you near so you can stop me when I start rambling"- (Y/N) laughed and kissed her husband's lips sweetly.

- "I can't stop your rambling, Gubler. But I can mute the video"- she teased, and he pecked her lips, chuckling.

- "Just stop me when I start saying anything embarrassing."

- "Deal."

No one could say Matthew Gray Gubler didn't care about his fans. He was committed to being always nice to anyone who would ask for a picture or an autograph. Why? Because nothing made him happier than making people happy. And if his job gave people joy, he honestly felt his life had a purpose.

That's why he enjoyed his improvised IG stream so much. He just sat on a couch nearby the kitchen and started talking with fans, answering questions.

- "Where am I spending my quarantine? Here is my hunted treehouse. I don't think I had ever been home this much, and it's been awesome."- Gubler stood up and started walking around the room.

- "Who am I spending it with? my gorgeous wife, of course,"- he said and pointed the phone at (Y/N), who was still cooking dinner. She simply waved and smiled

- "She is making sure I eat proper food now... Bunny, people are asking what you are cooking."

- "Pad thai"- she answered with a huge grin- "Gubler's request for tonight's dinner."

- "Maybe we could make a cooking class one day,"- Matthew suggested, and the screen started filling with "YES!!" immediately- "I could teach people how to burn every pan in the house, and you can cook."

(Y/N) nodded, laughing.

- "You can teach everybody how to make the best hotcakes."- (Y/N) answered and walked away from the phone.

It wasn't that she didn't like being part of her husband's activities, but she figured she wasn't really that important. Fans were there to see him, not her.

But Matthew followed her.

- "Yeah! I'll make my famous chocolate chip hotcakes, and you will have to top them!"- (Y/N) laughed and looked at her husband, raising an eyebrow.

- "Battle of the hotcakes?"

- "Yes!"

- "Set a time and a place, and I'll be there"- (Y/N) put her hands in her waist and raised an eyebrow, looking as serious as she could fake it.

- "Tomorrow, noon, here in our kitchen, because we can't leave the house,"- Gubler answered and mimicked his wife's attitude, still streaming everything.

- "Bring it, Gub."

And just like that, another livestream was scheduled.

The next day, at noon, Matthew streamed the funniest hotcake competition there had ever been seen by humankind. At least that's what he described.

- "Let's say it's a tie"- Gubbler decided and finished the last piece of hotcake in his dish- "I'll leave a poll in my stories so you can decide what you wanna see in tomorrow's live."

- "Really?"- (Y/N) asked, surprised- "Which are the options?"

- "Magic tricks or... I don't know. I didn't think this through"- he answered, making his wife giggle.

- "Maybe you could make a Rumple reading"- and Gubler's eye brightened at the idea

- "With my Rumple costume?"

- "I don't see why not"- Gubler looked at the screen and grinned like a kid.

- "Ok, you'll decide, magic classes or Rumple reading."

It was a draw. That's why Gubler did a Rumple reading the next day and decided to prepare a magic class with his wife for later that week.

His followers were having a blast with each one of their streams. Matthew would always try to take a step back and let his wife shine in front of everybody. He thought she was so funny the world needed to see more of her.

And (Y/N) always tried to be the best sidekick for her husband. Helping him make his streamings as fun as possible.

For the Rumple reading, Matthew sat in an armchair by the fireplace, dressed like Rumple, and read the whole book, impersonating voices and everything. Then, (Y/N) read the questions from the fans, and Matthew answered everything.

Gubler dressed like a classic magician for their magic streaming, and his wife was his assistant, helping him with each trick.

And by the end of the week, the people picked Q&A streaming with the two of them. It was the Friday "Chilling with the Gubs special."

- "Your girl is about to steal the whole show"- Shemar called Matthew that week and made him laugh- "She's the best part of the whole stream."

- "Don't flirt with my wife!"- he answered and chuckled.

- "I'm just saying she has a lot of potentials. She should try to do some stand-up comedy."

Gubler loved that comment, though. He knew his wife was awesome, and he wanted the world to know. As simple as that.

- "Ok, Bunny, ready to answer some questions?"- Gubler set the phone in front of them as they sat in their backyard. One more time, they had set a blanket in their favorite spot. And they had cookies and coffee.

- "Hit it!"

It was fun to do those things together. (Y/N) had never been one to be in the spotlight, but she loved being with Matthew. And if he was happy, so was she.

And it took only a second to see how happy Matthew was. He beamed each time he looked at his wife by his side.

- "Ok, this is a good one. What did we have for breakfast today?"- (Y/N) read and chuckled.

- "Good question. Waffles. (Y/N) made waffles, and I ate five, with ice cream. I'm gonna get so fat in quarantine"- the actor answered and felt his wife's hand in his hair.

- "What's your next project"- (Y/N) read- "Oh! that's a good one!"

- "But I won't say anything about it,"- Gubler answered and chuckled- "You'll have to stay tuned."

- "But I can assure you, it's amazing,"- (Y/N) added smiling- "How did you two meet"- the couple looked at each other and giggled.

- "At a party in my best friend's house"- she answered- "She was dating one of Matthew's friends, and they had a huge celebration when they moved in together."

- "And when I saw her, I knew I had to talk to her, but her friends didn't leave her alone."

- "Why didn't you just walked over and talked to me anyway?"- (Y/N) asked and crossed her arms on her chest

- "Because they were intimidating! and I am a shy guy!"- he explained- "I had to wait until you walked away to get yourself a drink to talk to you finally!"

- "You literally appeared by my side as soon as I walked away from them"- (Y/N) laughed, remembering the moment- "It was so funny!"

- "Hey! it might have been my only chance! I needed to take it!"- Matthew held her hand and played with her fingers, thinking he was glad non of that was in the camera angle.

- "And it worked"- (Y/N) answered and smiled at her husband, thinking as soon as that livestream was over, she was going to have a serious make out session with him

- "I'm glad it did. Quarantine would suck without you."

Gubler answered and smiled, thinking as soon as that stream was over, he was going to jump on her and kiss every inch of her body, just because she looked so beautiful that day.

- "Are you guys planning on having kids?"- (Y/N) read and turned all kinds of pink. There was a silence between the couple as they just looked at each other and shrugged.

- "We'd make cute babies"- Matthew answered- "And we could clearly keep them entertained."

(Y/N) laughed and shook her head.

- "We are not streaming that!!"

- "What?"

- "The baby-making part!"- she joked, and Gubler blushed, laughing and falling back on the blanket.

- "That idea never crossed my mind!"

- "I had to say it! Just in case"- (Y/N) argued and chuckled.

She had thought about having babies in the last few months. But getting pregnant during a pandemic didn't sound like a good idea.

Or was it?

- "Ok, everybody. We are signing out for today"- Gubler announced and waved at the camera- "Take care, stay in your house this weekend, and we'll come back maybe next week."

- "Maybe people can suggest what they'd like to see"- (Y/N) said and looked at Gubler, smiling back at her.

- "I'll leave the option in one of my stories so that you can leave your suggestions. See you!!"

The livestream was over. Gubler left his phone aside and looked at his wife. She was sipping her coffee and fidgeting with her fingers on the fabric of her jeans.

- "We would make cute babies, though,"- Matthew whispered and watched her beam at those words. That was all he needed to know.

- "You would spoil them so much"- (Y/N) replied, giggling.

- "Only because they will be just like you, and I love to spoil you so much"- he opened his arms, and (Y/N) leaned in, resting her body against his.

- "So... do you wanna have a baby Gub?"- she whispered against his chest- her voice was muffled, but he heard her clearly.

- "I think I do. You?"- Gubler answered, feeling his heart beating faster.

- "Me too."

(Y/N) muttered and giggled. Matthew looked at her and leaned in a little closer, kissing her lips sweetly.

It was a massive step for them, and they were very excited to do it.

- "Do you wanna start now?"- Matthew suggested, and (Y/N) blushed immediately- "I mean... I was going to suggest sex before, but now..."

- "The sooner, the better, Gubler,"- (Y/N) replied and bit her lips- "After all, we are gonna have to do a lot of practice before we succeed."

[cvtqr]

we only have 15 minutes, sugar

pairings; eren jaeger x reader

content warning; mentions of past jean x reader, oral sex, masturbation, recording, manhandling?

february 19th

you always found eren jaeger attractive, especially tonight at this party. his long hair thrown up into a messy bun, his white shirt with water split on it - making it see through. god you were about to start counting his abs. but who you were really here for? jean. you guys weren’t in a relationship or anything, just friends who liked to help eachother. it started off when you guys would go to eachother for advice or he would find himself in your dorm room ranting to you. just helping eachother with little problems of course. that doesn’t mean sucking his dick was that much of a stretch from it, right?

anyways jean was in a frat house, along side eren. they were throwing a party, and somehow jean convinced you to stop by. you didn’t know if you were regretting it or not. jean was no where to be seen so you just sat yourself on the kitchen counter drinking some punch you found in a bowl. you were admiring eren from a far, remembering all the bad things jean had said about him. how he just annoys the living shit out of him. but god, how attractive he was. you could’ve sworn you looked down at your phone for not even a minute when you heard someone clear their voice right in front of you. you looked up to be met with eren.

“uh hi?”

“hey hey! erm- y/n. we had physics last semester together. eren, eren yeager.”

yeah, i already know your name

“oh hi!”

“my friend reiner over there says he knows ‘ya too. wanna come play truth or dare with us in the backyard hm?”

slipping your phone into the pocket of your shorts, you jumped off the counter, centimeters away from eren.

he let out a low chuckle, placing his hands on the counter, trapping you inbetween the granite and himself. he looked you right in the eye before reaching one of his hands back to grab a chip in the bowl behind where you were sitting. your breathing shakened a bit and you rolled your eyes at him, looking down.

he let out another chuckle before grabbing your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look at him. “no need to roll your eyes sugar. if you were expectin-wanting something else, just say it. i’m not a mind reader baby.” he gave you a little wink before letting you go and backing up.

“i erm- i gotta pee i’ll meet you guys outside.”

he gave you a small head pat before running towards the back door.

right when you turned around to head to the bathroom you crashed right into jean, stumbling back a bit.

“oh hey jean!”

he sent you a blunt hey and started walking to the back door with an annoyed look on his face.

tch, what’s his problem.

your little bathroom excuse wasn’t actually an exuse, the amount of punch you were drinking finally caught up to you. right after you sat down your two best friends since birth, sasha and connie came bursting through the door, hysterically cracking up.

“YOO IM TRYING TO PISS.”

ignoring your comment they both collapsed onto the counter laughing their asses off.

you lightly smacked sasha on the back of her head, since she was the laughing the closest to you. “i swear if one of you idiots don’t tell me what the problem is-”

“YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE OUTSITE FIGHTING OVER YOU-” connie said between laughs practically screaming.

“my who?”

“JEAN AND EREN. I-I ASKED FLOCH WHY THEY WERE FIGHTING AND THEY SAID IT WAS BECAUSE OF YOU AND HOW JEAN IS ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT HOW YOU ARE SO GOOD AT SU-”

“GOD SASHA YOU DONT HAVE TO TELL HER THAT PART”

“CAN YOU GUYS STOP SCREAMING!”

“SORRY, sorry y/n. apparently jean saw you and eren in the kitchen and well, tried beating eren up.”

letting out a sigh you pulled up your pants and ran out of the bathroom.

running outside you found jean knocked out in the arms of marco and eren standing up, wiping some blood out of the corner of his mouth while winking at you. walking right up to him you slapped him right across the face.

he let out a deep, long chuckle.

“i need to talk to you.”

“lead the way sugar.”

you grabbed his arm and pulled him inside while feeling every single pair of eyes on you.

“where’s your room.”

“if you wanted to get me in bed you could’ve just asked baby.”

god can anyone be that full of themselves

“no - no. i don-”

“i’m just joking sugar. follow me.”

he grabbed your hand and led you up into his room, closing the door behind him.

“what the hell was that all about.”

“for the record he started it. he got jealous for no reason and i wasn’t going to let him use me and his rag doll. and you shouldn’t be with someone like jean anyway. you should hear the way he brags about you being his bitch whenever the house is hanging out.” eren plopped down onto his bed

with that you didn’t know who to be mad at this point. he patted his lap signaling you to come over and sit on it. ignoring him you rolled your eyes and sat down next to him, causing him to chuckle again.

“you should clean your wounds that looks pretty deep on your cheek. and take a shower you smell like dirt and grass.”

he got up and headed over to his bathroom door. leaning on the door frame he turned back around.

“only if you stay.”

“hmph, i’ll think about it.”

15 minutes later eren walked out of the bathroom. you were no where to be found. he did know that he’d get back to you one day, considering you left your phone number on a gum wrapper in place of where you were sitting.

february 26

friday strolled around as quick as ever. this week you talked to eren a few times. he texted you on sunday night to have a good week. sicne he was being nice you replied with a “you too:’)”

after that he texted you yesterday afternoon asking if you wanted to come to another party. you never responded, and now it’s friday, 2:05. you just finished all your classes, and you’d be lying if you said you had anything else to do. well except for the pile of homework you usually wait until sunday to do.

sighing you texted him back saying you already had plans and wouldn’t be able to make it. after that you decided to take a short nap. what you thought would be a short nap turned into you sleeping until 6:30. you figured you should get up and get some dinner. you decided to grub hub some taco bell and eat it in the dinning hall. after getting your food you sat down in the corner of the room. it was pretty empty since it was pretty late for dinner.

“ouch, i’m offended.”

you turned around at the familiar voice

“even jean could convince you to come out but i get some lame exuse.”

“it, it wasn’t an exuse. i do have plans.”

“yeah with yourself.” he pulled over a nearby chair and sat next to you.

“i ditched the party, it was pretty boring.”

“so you came to bother me?” you said while still stuffing your face with your food

“yeah pretty much, you wanna hangout?”

“i mean do i really have a choice?”

he leaned over and grabbed one of your nachos, shoving it in his face.

“no not really sugar.”

rolling your eyes you threw out your garbage and led him to your dorm room. since it wasn't that far of a walk, neither of you said anything on the way there. he just simply followed you. 

once you got into your room you shut the door behind you. 

“if you’re sitting on my bed then shoes off.”

“demanding” he said while slipping his shoes off and plopping onto your bed

“soo..” he said as you sat down next to him.

“wanna watch a movie or something? i see you have a tv in here.”

“sure, let me just fix my blankets so get up.”

he nodded and chuckled, getting up. you pulled down your comforter so there was room to get in, and threw all your blankets into the corner before grabbing your remote and slipping into your bed.

“is this an invitation to come lay with you under your blankets.”

“shut the light.” you said while pressing power on the remote. 

the last thing you remember from that night was cracking up with eren over some stupid movie the two of you put on. before you knew it you woke up with a tight grip around your waist. you look over to see eren, still sound asleep. he was so pretty. you figured the two of you just fell asleep while watching movies yesterday. moments like these you were grateful your roommate was on back at home for family issues.

you tried slipping out of his grip before he pulled you back in and groaned. he was still sleeping so you figured you weren't getting up anytime soon, so you closed your eyes and drifted off back to sleep. you woke up about two hours later to find no eren, but a note.

forgot i have to work on a project with floch. i had fun last night, lets do it again soon :)

you were in a good mood the rest of the day. 

may 15 

its almost been four months since you've met eren. you also cut off your contact with jean. he was a good fuck while it lasted. over the last four months you and eren got closer than ever. hanging out almost everyday, going to parties together, falling asleep cuddling every weekend, you name it. yet again, friday came around. instead of cuddling, you and eren decided to go to a party at some sorority house. 

three hours later you were sitting in a circle with a bunch of people you recognized / were friends with. you were all playing a game of truth or dare, cracking up at each other. everyone’s secrets were coming out and people were doing some crazy things. and the list of things we had to do on campus was piling up. for example, connie has to pull a prank on professor ackerman during class on monday. until it was sasha’s time to ask you.

“hmmm. OH Y?N! truth or dare babes!”

you really had to think this one over. sasha had the power of exposing every single one of your secrets if you picked truth, but she's also kind of crazy so who knows what she would dare you to do. after a small debate in your head you went with dare.

“i pick dare.”

“alright! hmmMMM. i dare you to go into an empty room with eren for 15 minutes.”

you felt the heat rush up to your cheeks when you stood up and stretched your arm out for eren to grab. 

you both left the living room and headed up to a room while hearing the small, faint giggles from your friends.

entering the room eren shut and locked the door behind the two of you.

“so.. what do you wanna do?”

“hmm. we only have 15 minutes, sugar.”

this is it. the moment you've been waiting for. you had eren right in front of you. just go up and kiss him already! 

as you slowly walked up closer to him. he flipped the both of you, pinning you up against the wall. 

“let me see if you taste as sweet as I've imagined, sugar. pleaseee you don't even want to know the amount of times I've fisted myself to the mere thought of it.”

you gave him a nod and that was all he needed to pull you off the wall and push you down onto the bed. pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties, he grimly smirked. 

“don't you dare cum without my permission.” was all he said before going between your legs and flicking his tongue onto your clit. your breathing quickly became heavy and irregular before he shoved two fingers, palm deep into your cunt. 

“ahh~ f-fuck eren-” you blurted out while starting to move under his touch, slightly bucking your hips up. 

that was until you felt a strong pair of hands hold your hips down. 

“stop moving or i’ll stop.” he hissed out before going back down on you, eating you out more forcefully than before, brining you right to your climax.

“f-fuck eren i need to cum- please let me cum. pleaseee~”

“no.” he said while pulling his fingers out of you.

“the only place you’re cummin’ is on my cock. you hear me?”

you wiped away the slight tears forming in the corners of your eye while nodding.

“that's a good little girl.” eren said while smirking

he swiftly grabbed you and flipped you over onto all fours, while shoving your face into the mattress. your first reaction was to perk your ass up for him.

“well someones eager aren't they.” was all he said before pulling down his pants just enough for his fully hard cock to spring out. he could've came just to the feeling of eating you out. 

he leaned down into your ear while whispering, “as sweet as sugar.” he started jacking off while still leaning down, before quickly cumming all over your ass. 

did he just?

he pulled up his pants before getting up and heading up towards the door. 

“well sugar, looks like our time is almost up. we should get back to the ga-” he was cut off by you running up to him and clinging right onto his shirt. practically crying you were blurting out small no’s.

“f-fuck the game, er - eren please just fuck me.” you were so desperate to the point where you were choking on your words. 

“aw, i’m sorry baby i didn't mean to make you cry.” he said while stroking your hair and patting your head. “come suck me off in my car and maybe if you do a good job i'll take ya home and fuck you, yeah?

may 18

sitting in your first class of the morning you were bored out of your mind. getting some lecture from professor ackerman after connie drew all over his desk.

that was until you got a snapchat notification from eren. opening it you were oh so grateful you had your headphones in. it was a video of eren cumming all over his laptop with a video of him shoving his cock oh so deep into your pretty little cunt. 

with the caption of missin’ the taste, sugar :’(

you’d be sure to pay him a visit during your lunch break.

[kyuuppi]

vegetable stew

Pairing: Kenma x Reader (f)

Contents: hurt/comfort; angst and fluff; body dysmorphia; eating disorder (negative thoughts, fat shaming, insecurity, mentions of starvation)

Word Count: 2.1k

Kenma has always been observant.

It was a large part of his success as a setter and even now his keen observational skills contribute to his career as a professional gamer. He tends to notice things others don’t and lately that means noticing how you’ve changed.

The more he thinks about it the more difficult it is to pinpoint the exact starting point of your behavior. Haven’t you always preferred baggy clothing?

He remembers the pretty blue sweater you used to treasure back in high school, wearing it every chance you got as soon as the weather report hinted at anything lower than 10°C. He loved that sweater too—not just because of the cute sweater paws it gave you or how it almost completely covered the shorts you wore beneath, offering an unobstructed view of your shapely thighs—but instead he relished in the way it seemed to make you feel. The confidence and joy in your expression was clear as day when you wore your favorite outfits and early on in your relationship he had quickly learned that somehow your happiness was synonymous to his own.

Hence Kenma’s current frustrations in seeing that spark of joy and self-confidence gradually diminishing in the past several weeks.

Although that particular sweater had long since left your wardrobe within the first few years of university, as well-loved and worn out as it was, the more recent favorites of yours have also seemed to have gone lately. It had been a while since you had worn the short yellow polka dot dress you had been so eager to show Kenma the first day you got back from the mall with your roommates. Every pair of shorts and colorful tennis skirts had also left your weekly rotation, leaving behind only dull sweatshirts with childhood cartoon characters and baggy joggers.

Objectively, Kenma hardly cared about what you wore. If fastening a potato sack around your form made you happy, Kenma wouldn’t bat an eye—the problem stemmed from the fact these clothes didn’t make you happy. Moreover, the bland clothing brought with them their own slew of behavioral changes.

You no longer wished to go out and you avoided taking pictures of yourself, your social media suffering from an obvious lack of cheeky selfies or “outfit of the day” posts as of late. However, the most concerning change of all was your refusal to eat.

Kenma had a habit of forgetting to eat himself. He rarely felt the mild twinges of hunger, his attention generally hyper-focused on something else whether it was a game, a video needing editing, or a class project he had pushed off for far too long. It was only when his own stomach growling would startle him or the hunger pains got unbearable that he would acknowledge the human requirement of sustenance (not that the instant ramen in his cabinets provided much nutrients anyhow).

You were much more in tune with your body and, unlike him, you looked forward to eating; scheduled your days around it, even.

Your mornings began with a balanced breakfast—a meal Kenma was rarely even awake in time for—followed by a generous lunch break in which you would intentionally put everything on pause. Regardless of how much work you had to do you always made time to put everything down and have a decent lunch. It was good for your soul, you would say. A time to live in the moment and relieve yourself of stress.

For dinner you often made it a point to eat with others, whether it was going to a rowdy Korean BBQ with some friends or a dinner date at home with just him, you enjoyed sharing a meal surrounded by the people you love. On top of it all, you frequently had snacks: small bags of crackers, slices of fruit, or a few cookies you made yourself.

You loved cooking almost as much as you loved eating; most of the times he invited you over you brought a large bag with you filled to the brim with ingredients he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. You would chastise him about his awful eating habits, grimacing at the ramen and chip wrappers overflowing in the kitchen trash can before you diligently prepare a meal for you both, healthy and flavorful, full of the vegetables he hadn’t had since the last time he went home to visit his mom.

You made him look forward to meal times too, if only to see the way you light up when he compliments your cooking or the pure bliss when you take the first bite of your favorite side dish. Eating with you became one of his favorite parts of the day.

And so that last time you made him dinner—a steaming plate of curry with shrimp tempura—the normally delicious food suddenly turned sour on his tongue when he realized you had only made him dinner.

“I’m just not very hungry today,” you had assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Foolishly, he hadn’t said anything at the time.

Maybe you had a large lunch, maybe you had a stomach ache, maybe you just didn’t want curry today—at that point in time he had no reason to think there was something seriously wrong. He had no reason to think you were starving yourself.

It wasn’t until weeks later when all the evidence stacked up, the many different signs piecing themselves together like a puzzle until it was impossible not to see the picture, even if a few were still missing.

Your baggy clothing, your refusal to eat anything, your off-handed comments about how the female characters in whatever fighting game he was playing had such nice figures—it became crystal clear what you were doing and it made him feel sick.

Kenma doesn’t generally care about others’ looks; he tends to worry more on how he is perceived than how he perceives others but he is confident that he rather likes your body as it is. He would rather die than admit how often he finds his gaze wandering when your legs are bare or how his eyes naturally trace the curve of your waist down to the width of your hips his fingers twitch to touch—he has had many thoughts about your body, none of which have ever been negative.

Even so, he doesn’t mind if you want to change yourself. He isn’t foolish enough to think he has the right to dictate how you decide to present yourself to this world, but he refuses to allow the reason for your change to be one that stems from low self-esteem or insecurity.

When you step into Kenma’s apartment, weary from a long day of classes and the extra hours spent at the gym, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by the scent of some type of stew, warm and hearty. Your stomach clenches longingly but you quickly reprimand yourself—you already reached your tiny caloric limit for the day.

You have hardly made it into the living room when Kenma comes out from the kitchen, dyed hair tied in a low bun but messy, several strands poking out and sticking across his sweaty forehead. A dark blue apron is tied around his waist and his right hand holds a ladle, the perfect image of a frazzled housewife. If you weren’t so shocked by the scene you would have laughed.

“Welcome back,” he greets softly.

“Are you...cooking something?”

Kenma looks slightly embarrassed by your incredulous tone but not offended. In all the years you have known Kenma you have never seen him in the kitchen for longer than the three minutes required to heat up a bowl of noodles. Him slaving away in front of the stove for a bowl of homemade soup is nearly unfathomable to you.

“Vegetable stew...it’s my mom’s recipe,” your boyfriend explains sheepishly.

The mental image of Kenma shyly FaceTiming his mother as she patiently walks him through chopping up carrots and mixing spices makes your lips twitch upwards and you make your way past him to curiously survey his work.

“You didn’t have to go through the effort, I could have cooked you something, y’know,” you comment as you lean over the large pot on the stove.

The contents are a rich brown color with hints of potatoes, carrots, and onions peaking out. You’re gifted another pang of hunger and you quickly step back as if it would prevent you from falling into temptation.

Kenma quietly slips into the kitchen directly behind you, his chest nearly brushing your arm as he speaks.

“It's okay, I wanted to cook for us this time.”

You freeze.

Immediately, you break into a cold sweat, the prospect of eating sending you into a state of anxiety. You can’t eat—you don’t deserve to eat. Not when your arms are so flabby, your waist so undefined, your inner thighs so close to each other—

“I appreciate it,” you start.

Your voice sounds unnaturally high even to your own ears.

“But I’m not hungry—I had a really big lunch.”

Turning, you try to offer him an apologetic smile but his face looks off. His lips are pulled into a slight frown and his eyes seem to be looking through you, as if he knows you’re lying.

“Y/n...I don’t like what you’re doing.”

You attempt to laugh but it comes out hollow.

“I’m not doing anything bad, just dieting a bit.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme.”

You huff, starting to feel defensive. You don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

“Kenma, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you,” he insists.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about, I’m being safe.”

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“Kenma, being this fat isn’t healthy!”

The words escape before you can think to stop them and you can already feel the shame pricking at your eyes as you turn away. You don’t want to see your boyfriend’s look of disgust once he realizes you’re right, once he realizes how fat and unattractive his girlfriend is. Kenma is skinny, he deserves a petite girlfriend who is just as tiny, a girl with slender legs that look cute in shorts and a stomach that lays flat regardless of the time of day. He deserves the sexy girls in his video games, in shape from years of training and perfected suited for tight leather bikini tops.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Kenma wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into the side of your neck. He lets out a shuttered sigh and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s crying as well.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, “and I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you. We can make healthy foods together and eat them together and exercise together—just please stop skipping meals.”

Your throat feels like it's stuffed with cotton so you can only nod in agreement, raising one hand to weakly wipe at the hot tears staining your cheeks.

The two of you stand like that, huddled in the middle of the kitchen, for several long minutes until the last of your tears have gone before Kenma gently pushes you to sit down at the coffee table. He prepares two steaming bowls full of vegetable stew for you both and you silently eat as Kenma tells you how low calorie the broth is and how many nutrients his mom said were in the vegetables he used. He tells you about a new fitness game on the Nintendo Switch that you two can play together. By the time you finish your meals, Kenma has already promised to wake up early to go jogging around the neighborhood together even though you know he absolutely hates waking up early and exercising when he doesn’t have to.

Your chest aches with how much he loves you, how far he’s willing to go just if he thinks it will help you and make you happy.

A small part of your mind begs you not to listen. It insists you’ll be fat forever if you don’t starve yourself; no pain, no gain. But the more rational part of you gazes into those soft golden eyes, filled with concern and love as he rambles on about the best sources of protein—all stuff he had learned from his professional volleyball player friend Hinata—and you know your answer.

Kenma loves you, he would do anything to see you happy and healthy and you would do anything to please him.

You love him more than you hate yourself.

[bontenten]

Efficiency

Pairing: Daishou x f!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings/Tags: smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, light degredation, aftercare, established relationship

Thank you so much @/bakatenshii and @/thirstyforthem2dmen for beta-reading. This is a repost from my main after it went fully sfw. Originally for the hqhq (now Anilysium) hard at work collab.

Pen scrawls and keyboard taps sound throughout the conference room as your boss goes over current client projects. Daishou is sitting across the table and you notice he's wearing the tie you gave him for his birthday last year. Looks good, you think to yourself. It's not just the tie, it's his entire outfit, and him.

Daishou notices your lingering stare and makes eye contact, granting you a cheeky grin and a head tilt. Pompous bastard. In response, you send back an expression of mock disgust before turning your attention back to your laptop.

For any newcomer at the firm, it might seem like the office is split down the middle into either your camp or Daishou's, with opinions and jabs on completely opposite ends of the spectrum. Why else is there so much spite being tossed around between the two of you, if not due to a deeply entrenched layer of grievances?

It might leave the newbie confused as to why Daishou affectionately calls you his "most significant problem". Or why you preface notes to him with, "to whom this may piss off, my royal pain-in-the-ass".

Then there comes a revelation to the newbie that you and Daishou are not mortal enemies, but rather the most wretchedly in-love couple in this skyrise building. It's a bad decision to cross either you or Daishou for any matter. Not only are the both of you perfectly vindictive, crossing one means submitting an application to be on the blacklist of the other. There's no doubt, in your humblest opinion, that Daishou, even if he'll never outright admit it, absolutely worships the dirt under your heels. And when you are in remotely a good mood, fine, you don't mind his coffee breath either.

It's heartwarming, that in this tower of cold, hard stainless steel and immaculate glass panels, there's love floating around the disinfected air of money, money, and more money. When it counts, you can be sure that Daishou will stand on the same side of the fence as you.

While the meeting goes on and you multitask with the spreadsheet open on your screen, you think you hear your name being tossed around. To your knowledge, everything is lined up already and unless there is some sort of overnight emergency, there's absolutely nothing left on your plate to take care of.

At the same time, there is also the off-chance that someone decides to drag you into hell with them and include you in a project. Now, who could possibly have the audacity to put you into the wringer with them?

"Daishou! Excellent, I'll leave this to you," the boss exclaims. "This pitchbook needs to be done by tomorrow. It's high urgency and the client just sent the numbers in."

A sinking feeling begins to churn in your stomach. You pause your frenzy across the keyboard and pay attention to the meeting to hear the rest of what Daishou has to say.

"If I may," Daishou curtly asks with a smile that's a tad too wide, "I'd like to work with Y/N on this. As you know, we work best together. It'll be done before the meeting tomorrow."

You can feel everyone's eyes turn to you in the meeting room, begging you to please say yes to the man holding titles such as your boyfriend, co-worker, and also 'royal pain-in-the-ass'. You force a smile and match Daishou's client-ready, saccharine expression. "Of course, we'll have it done tonight."

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the entire meeting room relaxes by ten notches. Bastards, all of you.

"Our firm's best duo!" the boss praises, "We'll leave it to you two then. Meeting adjourned."

It's the two words everyone has been waiting for. The moment the syllable falls, the conference room is filled with the sounds of shifting seats and scuffling feet eager to leave work for the day. With a huff, you shut your laptop and see Daishou coming around the conference table with his laptop and files tucked under his arm. He adjusts and tugs on his tie.

"Guess it's you and me again tonight," Daishou comments.

"And here I wanted to leave work early for once."

"Hey, just a special date night. It's called 'overtime', sounds pretty sexy don't you think?"

You snort and walk past him, going towards the direction of the elevator. Daishou eyes your figure strutting down the hall. The lines of your ironed shirt and the pencil skirt that hugs your figure perfectly match the echoing clack of your heels striking shiny tiles.

Even if you don't remember, Daishou's impeccable memory absolutely remembers how the last time you paired that shirt and that skirt together, it was an overtime situation very much similar to tonight. And the cock that's starting to grow hard in his slacks certainly remembers a lot more. He can feel it twitching just trying to conjure up the sensation of your gummy walls milking him in the breakroom a month ago.

"You coming or what?"

Daishou sees you holding the elevator door open and waiting for him. Daishou won't ever admit to this, maybe to you in privacy, but Daishou will rather be dead than admit to anyone else how lucky he feels to have someone as incredible as you in his life.

He takes a few quick steps and enters the elevator.

"How sweet," he coos. "I knew you wouldn't just leave me hanging and working in this dismal place all alone."

"Shut-up, Suguru," you snap, but you lean your head against his shoulder anyway. It's been such a long day already, and the night is only going to be longer.

"Stay the night at my place later? I'll order your favorite."

"Let's get this project over with first."

"I caught you staring at me during the meeting."

"Huh, is that so."

"Practically stripped me naked with your eyes. Ooh, I felt tingles all over."

You lift your head from his shoulder. "You're so full of yourself Suguru," you remark before tugging on his tie to pull his face closer to yours. "If anything, I think you're the one getting hard at work."

Daishou leans in even closer. A hand encircles your wrist and his thumb brushes your inner-wrist across the bump of the vein. Your pulse is throbbing against his fingertips. You feel your adrenaline and anticipation rushing through your body as your heart pounds harder and faster.

"Then do something to help poor lil' me out?"

"At your place later, we—"

"But I want you so badly right now," Daishou breathes out, body tight against you so you can feel his straining desires through the layers of fabric. "I want—

Ding.

The elevator opens up to the floor the two of you work at. The co-workers waiting for the lift can only see two pristine and exemplary office workers without any semblance of dishevelment walk out. Daishou even says a polite "see you tomorrow" to them.

"If only the elevator stopped working," you joke after taking a deep breath to swallow the fire building in your core. "Sly snake, no one here in the office knows your true colors."

Sometimes, you wonder just how Daishou can switch his persona so quickly. Or maybe he just likes the precarious edge of being horny at work.

"Love you too dear," he sneers.

A couple workers are still at their desks scrambling for their deadlines. You and Daishou take a seat at your work stations and begin to chip away at the urgent, overtime project. Every now and then, you'll say good-night to the other remaining co-workers finally able to go home. It doesn't take long before the halls are completely vacated and empty except for the two of you still slaving away in front of the bright monitors for hours into the night.

"Where are you going?" you ask Daishou who is returning to his seat after disappearing down the hall again. "This is the third time in the last hour. Are you shitting in the toilets or dumping all the work on me?"

Daishou comes by your desk and leans on the back of your chair. "Just making some phone calls. Want to go home now? It's getting late."

"Uh...work's not done yet."

"It's fine, let's have dinner first, we can just work remotely at my place. The bulk is done anyway."

You glance at the clock and ponder Daishou's offer. It doesn't hurt to leave a little early and continue the work later in a more comfortable setting. "Okay, let me pack."

After cleaning up the workstation and packing everything the two of you will need, you and Daishou are back in the hallway waiting for the descending elevator.

Daishou takes the heavy tote bag from your shoulders. “I’ll hold onto this,” he explains.

“Why so nice today, Suguru? First luring me over with food, the compliments, and suggestions to leave early…” You trace a finger along the line of his spine and observe, pleased with the nervous grin spreading on his face. “Someone’s losing patience, hm?”

Daishou gives you an ingratiating smile. “Princess, as fancy as our work is, we still work in client-services. What can I say, I live to serve and please.”

“Cheeky.”

The elevator arrives and the two of you enter the space.

"How long do you think we still need?" you ask Daishou.

"Must we talk about work, right now?"

"You're just horny, Suguru."

"Oh, so it's 'just' me, is that what it is?"

You shrug and admit, "Nah, I was wondering why you didn't suggest anything earlier when the office was empty."

"Baby, if you wanted me that bad, you should've just climbed on my lap."

You laugh at Daishou's retort and prepare a comeback. "I think—"

A loud screech sounds through the elevator and the lights flicker briefly before a jolt causes you to stumble. Your hand automatically flies to the handrail. Daishou also wraps an arm around you tightly to steady your balance.

"Is the..."

"Seems like we're stuck," Daishou comments.

You rapidly press the service bell button, but it's no use. "No one's picking up, it's like the signal got cut. Should've just taken the stairs!"

The cell signal is also terribly weak in the elevator space. There's nothing else to do but wait and see how things play out.

Daishou laughs dryly and smooths his hair back. "We work on the 18th floor, since when do we take the stairs?"

"There's that one evacuation drill..." you reply weakly.

Daishou raises an eyebrow, giving you a look that says, really now?

"You're right, we're doomed. Last moments and—"

"With the love of your life, isn't that pleasant a way to go?" Daishou tightens his arms around you. "Don't worry, it's all going to be okay."

You reciprocate and respond to his hug, while your brain searches for a solution. "I once saw on the internet that if the elevator drops, you have to time your jump right before the elevator hits the ground floor. Otherwise—"

"Shhh," Daishou shushes you quietly with a quick kiss. He rocks you from side to side and reassures you again that everything is okay.

"Trust me, it'll be okay. Let's just have a little fun while we're waiting," he suggests one hand already tracing up your thigh. "Maybe it'll relax all those nerves you've been holding onto."

Daishou wants to laugh. Whose nerves exactly? Do you have any idea how he’s been counting the minutes and seconds for this moment while you innocently worked on the project like the good, model worker that you are?

It took everything in him to somehow put down a few excel formulas and not shove the monitors onto the floor to fuck you senseless across the worktables. Not to mention, the pleasure of having those witty remarks that spurt out from that little mouth of yours replaced with incomprehensible whines and begs for your precious Suguru to fill you to the brim. And now that you also admit to thinking along the same lines earlier, Daishou knows the dirty little thoughts clouding into your mind already.

Some slut that you are, acting proper and put-together at work, basking in the praise from co-workers and the boss; they just don’t know how ten minutes after those morning touchpoint meetings, you are bouncing on Daishou’s cock in a hidden corner while the financial markets open for the day. It’s an art, really, the number of quicks you two manage to fit into the crevices of a busy office schedule. But that’s why Daishou is one of the best employees of the firm. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

The patterns Daishou's fingers trace tickle and send shivers up the skin. His low voice and hot breath across your ear elicits a soft gasp as you press your thighs together in the tight, figure-hugging skirt, seeking some hidden relief for the needy throb inside. The scrap of fabric down there is barely able to soak up the wetness beginning to pool. You are pressed up against him for comfort and security, your breasts plush against his chest. Each inhale and exhale you take is a test of patience.

"T-there's a camera," you remind him through shaky breaths, eyes flickering to the black mechanism in the corner. This is your final thread.

Daishou eyes the camera that is staring expectantly at the tryst about to happen in the cramped space with a wicked grin. Like that has ever bothered you, but if you want to play coy, he’ll humor you. He pinches the soft flesh on your thighs. "But we both know you're an attention whore. Always wanting to be the center of attention?"

You bite your lip to stop a whimper and look away, unwilling to admit that Daishou is completely right. You're already squirming in anticipation and delight. How cute, Daishou savors before deftly undoing the first two buttons of your crisp blouse. He has all of your clothes memorized, and how to take them off in the least amount of steps. At this point, it's completely second nature, and even if it isn't, the particular outfit you are wearing today has a special pedestal in Daishou's memory of interests. He pulls the tucked fabric apart to expose your delicate neckline and the soft curves of your breasts in the bra.

Oh, this one? What a coincidence then. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhales the scent of your lingering fragrance. His hot breath and tantalizing lips drag across your collarbone, brushing your sensitive skin.

"So fucking sexy. Let's put on a show shall we?"

The thread snaps.

You harshly tug on the Daishou’s tie and capture his lips with yours. Daishou presses his body even closer, resting a forearm right above your head to cage you against the elevator wall. You wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, as you meld into the searing kiss. The zipper of your skirt is tugged and the fabric is pushed up to your waist. His hand snakes up your thigh and a thumb hooks the side of your panties, pulling the soaked scrap down.

"Step," he instructs, pulling your panties down all the way and guiding your heeled feet out. "Don't want them dropping on the floor," he says, tucking the bunched fabric into his shirt pocket.

"Touch me, please," you beg, pulling Daishou back to you. You grab his hand and lead him to between your legs, grinding yourself against his thick fingers for some relief.

“No need to rush, the elevator isn't getting fixed anytime soon," he coos, "We're not going to get distracted this time."

Daishou spreads your lips apart and rubs along your sensitive bud, coating his digits with your slick. "Fuck, you're so wet already," he marvels before slipping a finger in and then another.

Daishou pumps his fingers in and out of your sopping pussy, occasionally dragging over to circle your clit. "That's it, isn't it?" he groans, feeling your walls clench around his fingers when he finds the spot that has you falling apart into streams of whines and mewls.

Daishou withdraws his fingers and brings the glistening digits up for you to see. "How much are you enjoying this? Wanting to be fucked in an elevator, watched by who knows who behind that camera."

You whimper and watch Daishou take the coated fingers in his mouth, licking off every drop of you. "You taste so good," he breathes, before pulling you into a kiss and letting you have a taste of your own arousal.

You break out of the kiss and turn around, resting your hands on the handrail. "S-Suguru, want you in me," you beg. You bend over just enough for your Daishou to see how much more wet you've gotten from tasting yourself on him. Your glistening hole is dripping and desperately clenching around nothing.

"Patience, princess." Daishou quickly unbuckles his belt and lets the cock pressing against his tight slacks spring free. He prepares to give himself a few more strokes but you reach behind and slap his hand away, replacing the hand on his cock with your own.

"Fuck," he groans, bucking his hips into your hands. "Always the impatient one."

"Hurry...please."

The building anticipation is making your knees weak and head dizzy already. You keep both hands on the handrails for support and squirm over trying to better line yourself for that thickness you need to fill your hole.

"Shit, stop teasing me!"

Beep.

The emergency intercom you pressed when the elevator first malfunctioned finally lights up. The line connects after a moment of static and radio noise and temporarily shocks a thread of rationality into your thoughts.

"Hello? Hello? Are we connected now, finally? Hello? Can you hear me?" the voice urges from the other end.

"Ah-" you gasp out, feeling Daishou fingers draw out slow circles on your clit. You press your lips tightly together to muffle a moan.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me?"

Daishou leans next to your ear. "Answer them, sweetheart." The tip of his cock teases the entrance of your pussy, running along the wet lips. "Do well and I'll give it to you."

You manage, with difficulty, squeak out, "Y-yes!"

"Good girl."

Your legs buckle slightly when you feel Daishou's thick cock being pushed into you, finally giving you the gratification you have been craving during Daishou's ministrations.

"Oh, careful now, don't want you falling over," Daishou's grip on your hips tightens and he groans at how warm, wet and tight you are around him. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he mutters under his breath.

The speaker buzzes again. "Great, finally connected. Ma'am are you doing okay still?"

"Yes!" you cry out as Daishou gives a firm and deep thrust; a wave of pleasure shoots through you.

"Don't panic, our team is already coming—" The line disconnects as abruptly.

Daishou revels at how your soft walls hug and clench around him. By all means, he didn't expect the interruption happening at all. It seems like you are not the only impatient person, he wonders, before flashing a nasty look at the camera in the corner and flipping said object off.

"Come on, princess,” he encourages and pats the side of your ass lightly. “Let me hear how pretty you sound."

"Sugu—" you gasp out, feeling the tip of his cock rocking into you. "R-right there right, ah—"

"Yea, you like that?" Daishou groans, pushing into you again feeling your walls clamp around him so tightly. So perfectly. It's addicting and all he can do is thrust in and out, over and over again. Each time seeking out the sounds of your pretty moans when you are completely filled and stuffed with him.

Lewd squelches and the slaps of skin meeting flesh fill the elevator space, along with Daishou’s grunts and your pants. Your hips meet each of Daishou’s thrusts in perfect rhythm, taking his entire length until the base. You can feel each stroke dragging along your walls, the size and length of his cock pushing against your tightness and prodding your cervix.

Neither of you can bother with any other distractions now that bliss is just teetering on the edge. Daishou pulls out and turns you around so you face him. He then scoops you up from under your ass with your legs spread over his forearms and hoists you up against the elevator wall. You feel the stinging cold from the cylindrical edge of the handrail as a dubious support against your heated skin.

"Suguru!" you squeal out, "I'll fall! I'll—"

"I got you, don't worry," Daishou reassures, "You're okay, I won't let you fall."

Once he feels your arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Daishou slides into you again with a loud squelch.

"We're right outside now! Won't be long before we get you two out." A loud voice calls out from beyond the shut elevator doors.

"Smile for the camera, princess," Daishou encourages before picking up the pace, chasing the high that's just around the corner. His thrusts become faster and rougher, hitting your sweet spot deep inside you over and over again making your mind spin. The countless reflected images of Daishou's unrelenting pursuit and speed, and the expression of your fucked out face collide together in a blurry, infinite kaleidoscope.

“Gonna cum! Gonna-”

All thoughts leave your mind with each ragged breath as you near your own edge. You can only cling onto Daishou tightly, nails digging into his shoulder and back. You don't hear the sounds of mechanical whirring outside the elevator. Whatever it is that the people are shouting outside does not matter. The bright lights don't make any sense to you anymore. You don't even remember what Daishou Suguru looks like.

The blank stare from the camera is the last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut, face tucked in the crook of Daishou’s neck, and body feeling like putty in his arms. All that's left is the euphoria sparking through and broken syllabylic babbles you struggle to utter out.

With a few final thrusts, Daishou grunts and pulls you completely flush against his hips, finally spilling himself into you. Release after a long day never feels this sweet, Daishou muses as he holds your languid body close. Each deep breath you take only pushes your soft breast against his chest, and Daishou can feel your spasming walls still hugging him. He peppers a few kisses on your sweat covered brow. So good, so fucking good.

The voices and mechanical whirs outside interrupt Daishou’s moment.

That’s right, we’re still in this damn elevator. Daishou carefully pulls out his softened and twitching cock and lowers your wobbly form down from your make-shift seat. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the drool from your face then lightly dab away the trail of mixed fluids seeping out of your puffy cunt. The overly saturated handkerchief does a poor job soaking away the mess the two of you made.

Daishou reaches for the crumpled panties he shoved into the shirt pocket, but decides against letting you wear it. In your current state, your legs are like a newborn deer, barely able to support you let alone try to maneuver into underwear.

"Once we get back to my place, I'll draw us a bath.”

The increasingly loud mechanical clamor and sounds of the elevator workers pull you out of your daze for a moment too. You try to fumble around and haphazardly button your shirt, but the buttons miss their proper buttonhole by one. You pout and look at Daishou who just buckled his belt and tucked in the edges of his crumpled shirt. He looks ready for a client meeting already, if not for the obvious smell of sex clinging into him.

Daishou chuckles at your state and helps you slip into his long coat. He kisses your brow again in apology. "Sorry baby, just bear with it for a moment."

"Hungry."

"Yes, yes. I'll order your favorite too, like I promised."

You nod, pleased with his answer.

Ding.

The doors of the elevator open, to the relief of the elevator workers outside. They were in the process of getting ready to pry the doors open, but it seems like the elevator is back to normal already.

"Sir, Ma'am, we apologize for our tardiness."

Daishou waves a hand. "Not at all, it was fine. My girlfriend," he nods to your hidden form in the coat, "a bit frazzled, that's all."

Daishou's coat is like a bathrobe and hides absolutely everything. Turn up the collar, hide your face in Daishou's neck, and no one can see the mess that you are still underneath the thick layer. If they don't look, they won't know about the cum that's already dripping out and trailing down the curves of your legs into your scuffed heels.

"Is she okay? If there are any problems, we can direct you to-"

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of her. Thanks for helping fix the elevator." Not that there was anything wrong with it to begin with.

"We'll be inspecting all the elevators in the building as well. We assure you this will never happen again."

The musty smell of sweat and sex is all that lingers in the elevator, but it'll dissipate soon enough. Maybe there are tiny puddles of your juices on the tiles but the 5 A.M. cleaning workers will wipe it all away. By tomorrow, the elevator and rest of the building will be just the way it always is again. The stainless steel is cold, and the glass panels are pristine. In the early hours of the morning, leather shoes and heels will be strutting around on the marbled floors. Phone calls. Printers. Clients. Meetings. And more overtime.

Daishou smirks to himself, supporting just about your entire weight. His phone rings in his coat pocket. He reaches for the device and answers the call. Those bastards.

"Heh, glad you enjoyed the show you fucker. And tell Kenma, 'that was a dick move he pulled back there.'"

He listens to the response from the other line.

"Yea sure, thanks for hacking the system...uh huh, tell him to cum in your dirty sock-rag then...yea whatever, go eat shit."

Daishou ends the call and shoves the phone into his pocket.

"Su-gu-ru..." you mumble.

"Yes princess?"

"...Pitchbook..."

Daishou presses a light kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

Even all fucked out, you still manage to not forget about corporate responsibilities, some overachieving show-off you are. After getting you cleaned up and warm, he'll finish up any remaining work. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

[rotshop]

*slams into your inbox* I just read through mag reader and Deimos headcanons again and I love it. I would def be interested in seeing more! (Also are you sure you don’t wanna hold his hand? Even just a little?) -Echo

gonna do a funney little mix of ideas here ,,,,, lol ,,,,,,,, also yes i am sure <333 i go 'hey check out this funny fish' and then i hold his head underwater.

[ tw brief, light violence, body horror and gore / blood ]

context

auditor + mag s/o ;

-OK OK HEAR ME OUT .

-you weren't originally an aahw project. while they're definitely the biggest company of sorts around there's still a few others that are like them but not exactly them hanging around nevada. you happened to be in some facility they decided to raid due to them having some possibly useful information regarding the anti-aahw . she's definitely a little less than enthused to get a call from her agents that she should come check this out but ,, when she lays her eyes on u that immediately melts away

-he's VERY very curious about you. keeps you close which is kind of nice bc it means you're treated pretty well but also it means a lot of being watched. audi just has like. a habit of unconsciously ''''''''studying'''''''' you. they're always noting little behaviors of yours down mentally and asking you little questions abut how you came to be and what abilities you hold.

-believe it or not he actually DOESN'T want you in fights. she knows you're incredibly capable but the thought of you getting too involved in a bunch of clawing and tearing again makes her get uneasy. she just prefers for you to stay by her side, with the excuse that you're a body guard of sorts for her (you aren't, she's got several other, more disposable mags that serve that role just fine.).

-HOWEVER. there is one time where he doesn't get an option in that. a few contractees and dissenters attempted a raid on the base audi was at, hoping to try and get some sort of bargaining chip to make deal with. before they can even really attempt to try and land some sort of hit on them you're already pouncing on the nearest grunt, blood already spurting and painting the walls red in mere seconds of your arrival. it honest to god shocks her into stillness, her just watching motionlessly the entire time, only really moving once to dodge some limb you'd mindlessly thrown her way after tearing it from its socket. WHILE SHE IS IMPRESSED ,,, she still scolds you a little for being reckless while trying to scrub the blood off of you with a wet rag, huffing that 'you could've gotten seriously hurt' if you were any less careful >:/

-however he does do the thng where he like. cups both sides of your face and then presses his forehead against yours. you have to lean down a lot for him to do so but still. sighs a little while brushing his thumb under your eyes and tells you to be more careful from now on.

-auditor is not immune to favoritism and it shows. someone brings it up (shakily, of course) and she just shrugs and goes 'idk what you're talking abt' while petting you who's got your head on her lap. said person promptly gets 'dismissed' after.

-hates whenever anyone tries to put some kind of muzzle on you, even if its just for the jaw dislocation thingy it still makes him go kind of '>:|' . he'll let them for like. a day at MOST (unless you keep trying to get it off, then chances are he's just gonna take it off for you. nobody really bothers asking / trying to get it back on you bc he just sends them a sharp little glare before they even can. if you REALLY need it that bad then he might try and convince you to keep it on a little longer or otherwise take your mind of it, he still feels really bad about it tho . )

sanford + mag s/o ;

- :)

-you two knew each other before he dissented / you became a mag. worked pretty close together and were just close in general !! you didn't know dei super super well since he worked in a different area but you two met a few times and hit it off pretty well.

-anyway ! he doesn't take your magnification well. at all. the first few times he saw you after it were the worst, mostly because those few times were primarily because you were lashing out at agents for one reason or another (mostly maltreatment from guards / people being shitty in general) . for the first while its so obvious that you're just exhausted from what's happened to your body that was NOT meant to become this, that you're tired and on edge from not being allowed any real rest. it makes him feel fucking terrible to see how awful of a state you're in and know that there's next to nothing he can really do to help.

-it especially hits him when he notices the other little changes. there's some specific moment where he's holding onto you far too tightly, clutching at the back of your jacket while he does his best to keep composed. you always had this habit of giving a half jokey hum of some stupid little joke or even just a 'what's wrong, big guy?' whenever he seemed off or tense, he can't help but make note of the lack of real response from you in the moment other than you wrapping your arms around him as well. another time, maybe he tries to make some little inside joke after something reminded him of it, looking back at you with a little smile. it hits him with a special punch to the gut when he notices your confusion, you just can't recognize it. you don't remember it anymore. you don't remember a lot of your old self or interactions anymore.

-you two end up getting split up at one point or another. orginally, he'd planned to run away with you and deimos buut,,, one way or another, you weren't really able to get out. he goes looking for you a bunch but eventually he has to stop when it gets to be too much and he can't find any real sign of you, he's quiet for a long time after it.

-HOWEVER . he does eventually find you in some abandoned warehouse him and the others had planned to look for supplies in. the entire time he's in there he keeps hearing sounds he thinks are just dei or hank but every time he asks or comments on it they just give him a look of confusion or a little 'what are you talking about?' it puts him really on edge, it's worse when he's in one of the further corners, digging through a few boxes and desperately trying to ignore how much it feels like someones there. anyway umm lol its just you ,,,, ehe . it takes him a solid minute to process that its you but as soon as it clicks he's yelling your name and running up to hug you. doesn't even stop to think that you could totally tear him a new one right then and there he's just too happy to see you. dei and hank both come rushing over after hearing him, dei recognizes you too and is just kinda 'oh hey !! friend !! :D' while hank stands there and just kinda stares.

-is able to take you back to base without too much argument from the others. he does his best to fill you in on everything that's happened in hopes you'll explained what happened on your part too. even if you don't he can't be too upset since he's just too gd happy to see you again ,,,, chances are you stick around him a lot . deimos is nice but u don't remember him super well and hank makes you uneasy lmao . its ok he thinks its funny though, just laughs a little whenever you stand in his doorway in silence until he notices you :)