#had trouble looking directly at her the whole scene shes so FUCKING HOT god i need her so bad

[rafescoke]

Maybank ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Request: how about y/n is jj’s older sister and shes dating rafe but they keep it a secret bcs rafe is a dick he doesn’t want to be seen w a pogue. jj knows that his sister is dating rafe and he kinda hates rafe for keeping they relationship as a secret. then sarah threw a party n invited the pogues n they play truth or dare n a random kook dared rafe to sniff coke on some random girl’s belly n rafe accepted it without thinking abt what y/n thinks n they fight @rafeswh0ree

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Rafe would do anything to protect his title, even if it causes the girl he loves to stray away. 

Warnings: Pure angst, mentions of substance!

A/N: you know the drill. . . send requests! 

(Y/N) doesn’t want to remember the day her little brother found out about her relationship with a certain kook prince.

Being a year younger than (Y/N), it’s funny how he acts like a total older brother to her; always so protective, and not letting any boys touch her.

It was a Friday, and (Y/N) had sneaked out to meet Rafe by the beach. The night sky was almost perfect; the moon was illuminating them, and the waves were calming.

Rafe pressed a kiss against her lips, mumbling how much he loves her when the sound of a backpack hitting the soft sand startled them.

“What the fuck?”

(Y/N) scampered from Rafe, fixing her fallen top and running towards JJ who was already making his way back to his bike. His eyebrows were furrowed, his heart banging.

(Y/N) pulled his shoulder, “JJ, stop. It’s not what you think!”

“Wait, wait, what do you mean? Did he drown and you had to give him CPR?” He scoffed, prying his shoulders away and walking backward slowly. “This is so low of you, (Y/N). Fuck.”

JJ noticed that something was different with his sister a few months ago. The sneaky texts under the table, the sudden smile at her phone screen. . . he had thought of the actions as nothing more than (Y/N) contacting her friends.

And when he saw her in Figure 8 two weeks ago, in a fancy restaurant he works part-time in, she had told him that her new friend had brought her there.

As if she would ever have a kook friend.

Of course it wasn’t a kook friend. It was a kook boyfriend.

“JJ, please! Why are you like this?”

JJ turned his heels to look at (Y/N) properly. His nostrils were flaring, and his eyes were wild. Trying to contain his anger, “Your fucking boyfriend is a drug addict and I’m not letting you date someone who choked my friends before!”

He waited, and extended his hands. “It’s me or Rafe. Stay if you want to stay with him, and come with me if you want to come back home.”

“You’re crazy,” she whispered, letting a tear rolled down her cheeks. She thought of many scenarios where JJ will eventually find out about her and Rafe, but this wasn’t in her list.

“Me or Rafe.”

(Y/N) remembers exactly the way JJ walked away disappointedly, his head hanging low and his hands balled up in a fist.

It took her weeks to regain JJ’s trust and fix their relationship, and though JJ still hasn’t accepted Rafe, he’s okay. He’s quiet, sometimes seething at the boy, but he knows how much (Y/N) loves him.

“Hey,” Rafe smiles, placing a kiss directly on her cheeks. Her hot body from the scorching sun slowly tempers down, and she melts into his touch.

Pulling him close, she nestles into his chest. “Sarah’s having a party tonight.”

“Yeah? You’re coming?”

“We’re coming, Rafe,” she sighs. The sprinkling water from the fast motion of the boat hits her on her face, and she wipes them away before looking up to this handsome face.

She rubs her thumb against his cheeks, feeling him soften. “If I ask you something, can you not be mad?”

“Is this about letting everyone know about us?” He asks, his hands resting above her hips. He removes them and wraps his face, sighing.

(Y/N) bites her lips, already knowing the answer to her question. “Never mind.”

“We talked about this, (Y/N).”

“I know, so I’m not going to fight with you on this again,” she sits up straight, inching away from him. “I mean, after almost a year of dating, I think you’d—”

“You’re forcing this.”

“I’m not!” She stands up, groaning. “God, you’re starting a fight again!”

The silence between them grows again, both sulking and shouting in their heads. After a while, (Y/N) moves to the front deck of the boat and Rafe curses silently, knowing that the plan he had about strolling by the stream with the girl he loves is a failure.

But it’s not his fault, is it? He just can’t show her off. It’s bad enough that her brother’s aware of their relationship, and Rafe had to make sure that son of a bitch never opens his mouth to anyone.

“Hey, yo, JJ, got a minute?”

The blonde waiter grunted, eyeing Rafe with so much hatred before placing a cold mineral bottle on the table.

“Rafe, don’t cause any scene,” Topper warned, staring at the both of them. He could sense something was wrong, but he didn’t put this mind into it. He thought of it as nothing more than Rafe’s daily fights with the pogues.

JJ didn’t reply, not wanting to see his smug face what more to talk to him, but as he tried to return back to the kitchen, Rafe gripped his wrist tightly.

“Just a minute,” he smiled.

JJ quirked his head to the back of the kitchen where the workers usually smoke. Rafe nodded, letting go of his wrist, and whispered something to Topper.

“What do you want?” JJ asked once they were in the back alley, watching as Rafe lighted a cigarette and bringing the stick to his lips.

“How’s (Y/N)?”

“Isn’t that your problem?” The blonde boy scoffed, “Hey, man, look. I appreciate this family bonding activity you’re trying to have, but you’re no family. I care about (Y/N), and I’m in no way letting her be with you.”

What angered JJ more wasn’t the fact that he didn’t reply, but it was the superior look he plastered on his face. He felt the urge to slap and hurt him more than anything else.

“If there’s one thing we can agree on—” he said, blowing a puff of smoke. JJ inched backward, not wanting the smell of tobacco to linger on his uniform or he’ll be in trouble. “—is that we both care for her. I understand if you don’t want anyone else to know about me and (Y/N), and I hope it will stay that way.”

“You don’t want me to tell anyone else?”

“Yeah,” Rafe smiled. “It’s bad enough I have to pull you away in the middle of my lunch. Can’t afford to do that with more people.”

“Is it because you’re embarrassed to be seen with her?”

“Can you do that for me?” Rafe asked, ignoring his last question.

“Fuck you, Cameron.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rafe laughed, patting his shoulder and watching as he flinched away. “I think I’ll see you around more than we both want to, Maybank.”

“Hey,” (Y/N) whispers, placing a hand against his shoulder. “What’s wrong? You’re in a daze.”

“You’re not mad at me anymore?” He asks, tilting his head up. That was quick, but he likes it. She can never be mad at him for more than 30 minutes.

She crosses her arms, “You want me to be mad at you?”

He shrugs and pulls her to his lap. “You’re hotter when you’re mad.”

. . .

If there’s one thing Rafe’s sure of, he hates parties when he will be the one to clean up the mess the next morning.

Ward and Rose are out for the weekend for their anniversary, and Wheezie is somewhere for a summer camp she has been begging Ward to go to.

Like always, Sarah Cameron takes this opportunity as a way to host the biggest party of the year, inviting all of her pogue friends and letting Rafe do the honor of inviting the kooks.

(Y/N) walks in with her best friend, having to pretend to not be so familiar with the whole house as if she’s not dating the son of Ward Cameron.

“Yo, this house is huge.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) agrees, walking towards the drinks area and grabbing boozes for her and her friend. “Hey, I’m going to see someone, can you wait for me down here?”

Before she can walk away, Sarah Cameron appears excitedly and pulls her into a tight hug. “(Y/N)! What a surprise! JJ’s outside, if you’re looking for him.”

“Trust me, I’m not looking for him,” she laughs, “Have you seen Rafe? I, um, I called him up before for some stuff.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s on the porch,” she replies, and before (Y/N) can make a move, she holds her tightly. “Be careful. He’s got the heaviest stuff with him.”

As if she doesn’t know that.

She smiles, muttering her thanks before heading towards the porch. It’s hard to pretend to not know who Rafe is after spending her whole year with him.

Sure enough, Rafe is sitting by Topper’s side with his other friends surrounding them, his hair messily parted and his nose red. She sighs, knowing exactly what state he’s in.

“Yo, Maybank,” Topper laughs, pulling the empty seat beside him. “Come sit.”

Rafe looks up to the sound of her name, and before she can register the look on his face, he bows down again.

“Hey,” she greets, sitting beside Topper. “You’re okay?”

“This party’s the shit,” he answers, obviously in a drunken state, and pats Rafe’s back. “Yo, yo, you got the same ring as my boy right here.”

Topper grabs the gold ring hanging from (Y/N)’s necklace, bringing it closer under the light and taking Rafe’s hand. “Wow, are you guys soulmates?”

The boys around them laugh, and (Y/N) pulls her necklace away before anyone can guess anything. She watches as Rafe grunts, still so busy trying to separate the powder in lines.

“Wanna try a line?”

“She can’t, Topper.”

All eyes are on Rafe now, who’s rubbing his nose and licking his lips. Rafe never stops anyone from doing a line and even asked Wheezie if she wanted to try one before, so the words that came out of his mouth appear as a shock to all of them.

“Why?” (Y/N) asks, tilting her head to one side. If he doesn’t want to show her off to his friends, he might as well stop trying to control her life. She looks back to Topper, “I’ll try a line, Tops.”

Topper smiles, giving her a rolled-up 100 dollars bill and pushing his chair back to allow her in. (Y/N) takes the chance to brush her back against Rafe’s front, hearing his ragged breath all the sudden.

She bends down, giving Rafe the perfect view of her back, and snorts a line. She falls onto Rafe’s lap as he pulls her close, breathing into her sweet smell as she throws her head back from the sudden tingling in her stomach.

“Stand up,” he orders in her ears, “Stand up, (Y/N).”

Before Rafe can push her off, she stands up quickly and makes her way back to her previous seat. She only tried coke once, way before she met Rafe, and she had thought of it as nothing more but the last time she tried the substance. She prefers drinking to get her mind off since then.

“You’re joining the game later?” Topper asks, glancing down at her short skirt. (Y/N) mindlessly pulls her dress down, and throws her head back once again.

“What game?”

“Truth or dare,” he smiles.

“I don’t play children’s games,” she fakes yawn, “Are you playing?”

“I don’t think so,” he replies, licking his lips. “Like you said, I don’t play children’s games.”

Whatever Topper’s doing to get (Y/N)’s attention; it’s just not working. She’s way too head over heels for the boy beside him, who’s still red and flustered from the brief teasing she had for him a few moments ago.

“(Y/N), wanna grab a drink?”

Both (Y/N) and Topper look up to Rafe. He’s trying his hardest not to look at her again and busies himself with the powder. “You don’t look quite comfortable with Topper.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she replies, watching as his head snaps back to her. She licks her lips, “We’re alright, aren’t we, Tops?”

Topper nods, more than ready to have a fling with the pretty girl beside him, pogue or not pogue.

“Okay,” Rafe replies, “Whatever you say.”

Whatever (Y/N)’s doing to grab his attention; she’s doing a great job at it. Rafe’s jaw tenses at the sound of her laughter, and he has to look the other way when Topper’s hands sneak their way to around her shoulders.

He’s almost glad when Sarah comes to tell them something about the game starting. He sneaks to beside (Y/N), giving her a soft touch on her back, and off he goes to sit on the opposite side of her.

His mind’s still woozy, and he’s struggling to even open his eyes. The booming music still thrums against his eardrums, and the drinks he had earlier keeps every muscle of his active and ready to do anything crazy.

“You’re playing?” Someone asks him from the right.

What else can happen from a silly game of truth or dare?

“Yeah.”

Rafe hopes (Y/N) isn’t playing, because he knows the stupid things his friends would ask her. Always being the topic of his friends’ conversations, he’s clear with their intentions towards (Y/N).

And he’s not making any of it a reality.

“Topper, truth or dare.”

“Truth,” he answers, and Rafe’s eyes snap back to (Y/N). Surprisingly, her eyes are already on him, her stare so pierced that Rafe has to shift his position to ignore the aching in the pits of his stomach.

Rafe doesn’t care enough to listen to whatever his best friend’s saying, and his eyes stay on (Y/N). The girl smiles at him, and his eyes trail down to her chest.

Of course she would wear something like a top that doesn’t cover half of her chest.

He looks away, biting his lips.

“(Y/N)! Truth or dare?”

(Y/N) groans at Topper, crossing her arms and yelling ‘I’m not playing’. Her friends moan at her, pressuring her to keep the game going, and after a few pleas and more groans, she sighs.

She’s so easy to manipulate.

Rafe stares at her again, licking his lips.

“Dare.”

The crowd cheer, but the volume is down to mute to Rafe, who’s too busy having her glued to his brain. She looks wonderful under the dim lights, and Rafe wants nothing more than to have her screaming under him.

“I dare you to make out with the hottest person in the room.”

“Change the game,” Rafe says to no one in particular, sitting up straighter. “Change the game.”

“Yo, what?” Kelce asks, “What’s wrong with you?”

Rafe ignores his friend, and stares at the girl.

(Y/N) stands up from her seat and walks towards Topper, and Rafe can feel his heart stopping. His fear is coming to reality, and she’s so close to Topper they’re practically kissing.

He lays his head against the cushion, his heart aching.

“Yo, Rafe, it’s your turn!”

Rafe sits up straighter, rubbing his eyes and looking around the group as everyone else stares at him. He groans, feeling so tired and not having a clue where he have gone to a few minutes ago.

It might the aftermath of the coke, but it doesn’t feel as good as always.

How long did he pass out?

“Truth or dare, Rafe.”

“I’m not playing,” he mumbles, rubbing his temple.

“If you’re backing out now, you’ll have to pay a hundred bucks.”

What the fuck?

“Since when?” He asks, looking up to the random girl he has seen around the country club a few times. “That’s not the rules.”

“It is now.”

“Fine. Dare.”

Anything to put an end to this game.

“I dare you to do a line on Jessie’s back.”

The room grows silent, and Rafe can feel all stares at him. He blinks, trying to register what he just heard, and laughs. “Just a line?”

(Y/N) bites her lips. He wouldn’t do it, would he?

Somehow, JJ finds his way behind the couch (Y/N) is sitting on. He places a hand comfortably on her shoulder and watches her jerk. “You’re okay?”

She doesn’t reply, but JJ knows the answer all too well.

Rafe’s friends clear the table off from drinks and Jessie lays her bare back against the glass table. Rafe doesn’t look up to her to ask for permission or to give her any reassurances, and it feels as if he wants to do it too.

JJ’s grip around her shoulder tightens, “You should go.”

She shakes her head, staring at the scene before her.

The intoxicating powder is poured by an excited Topper directly on Jessie’s stomach, and (Y/N) feels sick to her core. She feels like screaming, because why wouldn’t he say no?

It’s not like a hundred bucks would be too much for him to stop playing.

Rafe dips his head to the same level as Jessie’s head, and (Y/N) stares at the girl bites her lips the same way (Y/N) does when Rafe’s close to her.

Except he’s close to someone else.

The crowd erupts into a loud roar again as Rafe finally stands up from the lines, his head becoming more bumping and his respiratory rate increasing.

The kook prince doing a line on some hot girl in Figure 8. 

What a headline.

His eyes look up to the people around him, but (Y/N) is nowhere in sight.

“Where is she?” He asks Topper. His hands found themselves wrapped around Topper’s shoulders for balance.

“Where is who?”

“My girlfriend,” he answers, not thinking much. “I have to go.”

“What girlfriend, Rafe?” Topper laughs. “Man, you’re in too deep. The game’s not finished.”

“I’ll pay the hundred,” he replies and makes his way out of the party. His sight is becoming so blurry that he falls by the side of the pool a few times before he sees the sight of her climbing JJ’s bike.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” He asks, standing in front of the bike and not letting JJ turn to the exit. “The party’s not finished!”

“Fuck off, Cameron,” JJ replies, blocking Rafe’s view of his girlfriend. (Y/N) stares down to her lap, not wanting to look him in the eyes, and Rafe’s breath hitches at the silence.

“What did I do?”

Before Rafe can hear any explanation, JJ pushes him down to the side road and he groans from the sudden impact. He looks up to the blonde and lunges for him, only for them to end up by the side of the road.

“Oh my god, stop!” (Y/N) yells, trying to pry her brother away from Rafe. “JJ, he’s not thinking straight. Let’s just go!”

“Don’t get near (Y/N) ever again!” JJ yells, his eyes flaring up in anger and his knuckles turning purple. “She deserves someone better than a cheating fuck like you!”

Out of all the responses Rafe can give to JJ, he lets out the coldest laugh, and the sound of his voice carries throughout the dark neighborhood.

“I’m cheating? She was cheating on me too!”

“What are you saying?” (Y/N) scoffs, “I wasn’t cheating, Rafe, I’m not you.”

“Yeah? The kiss with Topper?”

“That wasn’t a kiss! I gave him a peck on his cheeks!”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact you didn’t kiss me.”

“Is that why you’re acting like a dick? Because I didn’t kiss you when Tops asked me to kiss the hottest guy in the room?” She laughs. This whole thing seems funny all of a sudden after hearing Rafe’s side of the story. “I thought you want us to stay lowkey.”

“Whatever, can you get your fucking bodyguard off me?” Rafe replies, “And don’t call him Tops. It’s like you’re begging to get fucked by him.”

JJ makes a move again, but (Y/N) quickly pulls him away. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hands, and Rafe wishes he hadn’t said the words out loud.

JJ finally lets go of him and walks to his bike, feeling so tired but pumped at the same time from the brief fight with Rafe. He wanted more than anything for them to break up, but what just happened isn’t exactly what he had in mind. 

“So you’re going?”

“There’s no reason for me to stay, Rafe,” she replies. “You don’t even want to admit that we’re dating. Are you embarrassed of me?”

When he doesn’t reply, (Y/N) pushes his chest that he staggers backward, still so woozy and lightheaded he feels like fainting.

“Are. You. Embarrassed. Of. Me?”

Rafe stays silent, looking down to the ground and wishing the world would just swallow him up.

“Go to hell, Rafe,” she replies, and Rafe inches backward when her gold ring he had bought for her to match his own ring rolls down to his feet. He quickly looks up to her.

She’s not breaking up with him, is she?

If he felt like he has gone through hell before, this feeling is a lot worse. 

Part #2

 -

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

[cloud9in]

You’re the only one who’s writing poppy x mc fics sooo, i have a request “ bea is a bad girl (like in a gang) in high school and also went jail couple of times for getting in trouble in high school senior year poppy was new transfer student and after 2 months bea join back school and met poppy bea and they just click yk like a connection slowly they started dating and in school everyone was shocked to see bea in a relationship ( bad girl and new girl) poppy is always worried about bea and few days before graduation bea got hurt really bad and poppy gives bea 2 options that she has to choose between her or her this (gang).. bea didn’t say anything to her so poppy left, after 2/3 years they met in college bea was a different person but so does poppy they become enemies (no one knows why they hate each other) one day they were arguing and poppy shout at her and says why you're back and bea put her hand on her cheek and smile and say i am here to win you back because i love you 😬

Promises (Poppy x MC)

Part 1/?

Can i just say I'm absolutely invested in this plot? You've got me hooked on my own story, as hectic as my life is, this is enjoyable to write. I hope you like it as well @iamsimpforpoppy

Word count: 1.8k (i got carried away)

“You know what to do Jackson, same old shit.”

“Yeah but it feels like a movie every damn time”, Bea responds confidently as she unbuckles her seatbelt. She sports a black mask with a yellow bandana, a vivacious color worn by only the Southside Spades, a notorious street gang who were known for robbery, and occasional blood.

Bea found herself wrapped up in the world of gangs when she turned sixteen. But before that the brunette would assist in transporting goods, also known as hardcore drugs. There was plenty enough to go around so Bea could indulge in any she wanted. Drugs didn’t give her the high she craved though, instead it was the thrilling game of cat and mouse with the cops.

Every now and then she’d get thrown in the slammer overnight. But this particular evening earns her one year in the NY State Penitentiary. See, the cops never gathered significant evidence to build a case against her, even though she was well aware of Detective Steinhelm who had some sick obsession with her. Following her everywhere, until Bea confronted her directly after noticing the same black sedan parked a street down from her house.

But she played the game right, and nothing ever led back to her. Until now.

“Where’s the money Bradley? I feel like I’ve been kissing your ass all week, the boss needs it now.”

A skinny blonde boy who looks like he had better days grunts in annoyance, “You’ll get your money...I’m just a little short right now.”

“Time’s up Ken doll, you know Carter will have your head for this.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to know. Maybe this can be between us…”, Bradley strides carefully towards the blonde, a disturbing grin on his face which screams junkie. “Back the hell up now.”

Bea pulled her knife out with ease and pointed it towards him. She didn’t plan on actually using it. Murder was way out her budget for a simple money pickup but she knew that it would scare the boy easily. Except he kicked the blade out of her hold which prompted it to screech across the concrete before coming to a stop. Before Bea could think her fists reacted as she intercepted a punch that aimed straight for her jaw. She twists Bradley’s arm and he falls on his knees in pain. With his back to her, she kicks him down until he’s flat on his stomach.

“What is it exactly that you plan on doing now Bradley?” The blonde boy struggles under Bea’s foot but manages to reach around and slash at her ankle with a surprise shiv. Bea yelps in pain before kicking his head, rendering him unconscious.

“Stupid idiot. Had to make this harder than it should’ve been.”

Bea eventually finds the stash of money hidden under his mattress, an amateur hiding place at best. She congratulated herself for another job accomplished (kinda) and headed home. What the seventeen year old didn’t expect was the repulsive sound of a siren filling her ears as she stepped out onto her driveway. Her blood rushed to her head when she spotted Detective Steinhelm among the police officers surrounding her and retorts, “oh come on. I thought I told them about you harassing me. What do you want? Back here to strip search me again?”

The older woman only watches the blonde in eerie silence before smiling and gesturing to a police officer. “Beatriz Jackson you have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law-”

“What the actual fuck!” Bea yanks her arms out of the officers reach which initiates a struggle for dominance. This was nothing new to her, but it still felt sickening. Like she was some pet.

“You have the right to have a lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire.” Detective Steinhelm finishes speaking and approaches the still scuffling blonde, “if you keep resisting I will tase you myself.”

Bea bites back the urge to headbutt the old hag right in her stupid face but she didn’t need any extra charges, for whatever the hell it was she was being charged for.

“Tell me why the fuck I am being arrested and I’ll calm down.”

That’s when Bea notices a familiar (bruised up) face from earlier. His smirk was enough to eat at her skin and she felt burning hot rage.

“Your blood was found at the scene of Mr. Denbroughs assault. You are being arrested in the case of second degree assault with intent to hurt someone with a deadly weapon.”

***

Bea only got one year in prison due to her kickass lawyer Ina Kingsley who played the minor card at every opportunity given. She also pointed out the fact that the knife wasn’t bloodstained, and Bradley never had any stab wounds so there is no proof the weapon was ever used against him. And it technically wasn’t. Good thing she didn’t bring a gun instead.

She did miss her 18th birthday though. And a few months of her senior year. But that’s what summer classes were for right?

All eyes were on the blonde when she returned, and whispers spread throughout the school about a certain new girl. Bea paid no mind to the fingers that pointed in her direction but the newcomer did manage to catch her attention, and pretty quick at that.

“Hey Jackson, how was solitary confinement?”

“I heard they make you use the bathroom right through the tiny food slot.”

Bea rolls her eyes and pelts a piece of not-so-fresh bread right at Ford’s head. The other people at the table join in on the laughter and Bea shakes her head and smiles, “it was Juvie you dumbass, and they made us sit in a circle together every Thursday like we were in an AA meeting.

“That’s jail for babies, goldilocks here wouldn’t last a minute in a real prison”, Carter joins them at the table with a cocky smirk, yet his eyes soften when landing on Bea. She shares a similar look with him knowing they’ll have a real conversation later. Because they definitely didn’t get to have that when Bea was getting dragged away to the police station in cuffs, and every event after that.

“It’s our girl’s first day out, we have to celebrate. And it’s not like she’s on probation...right Bea?”

“I do have a curfew, and I’m on juvenile probation so…when we partying?” The crew laughs as Bea shrugs. Her mother will deal with it. Zoey scoots in next to the blonde and wraps her arm around her shoulder in a side hug. “So glad to have you back Bea, and we are not risking you breaking parole so let’s just go to a sport’s bar tonight.”

Bea nods her head in agreement as the first warning bell goes off and everyone starts to clean up. Zoey taps on her arm and points towards one of the farther tables where a lone figure sits, wiping her hands with a napkin. All Bea saw were blonde tresses until she turned and they made brief eye contact.

“She’s the new girl, Poppy Min Sinclair. Rumor is she’s got a rich white daddy. You should totally invite her to the party.”

“And why would I do that?”

Zoey squints her eyes and leans in closer, her hands under chin in thought, “she seems like the broody type, you two would click.” She laughs at Bea’s comical expression but the blonde can’t bother to look in her direction, she’s way too wrapped up in what little the stranger a few tables away had to offer. She would sit on that thought, Bea was not one to shy away from anything.

***

The two became friends quicker than anyone could think.

One day after school, Poppy’s car wouldn’t start. It just didn’t comply. You would think she’d be poised and call her mechanic to come fix it, but instead the blonde slumped against the driver’s side window and let out a visibly frustrated, high-pitched yelp. Bea watched her pace around the car and even...kick?...the front bumper with her heels in efforts to wake it up.

“You know I may be wrong but I think that only makes it worse..” She approaches the helpless blonde with a small grin. Poppy’s persistence amazed her though, she’s never seen anyone determined to beat a car up. An expensive one at that.

“I hope you have some idea how to fix it, unless you’re here to waste my time and ask me on a date.”

Woah.

Okay that definitely threw Bea on a whim. She lets out a sharp laugh and bites her lips in amusement. She strolls towards the front of her car, holding Poppy’s gaze the whole way. She liked that the blonde didn’t avert her eyes. “And if I did? We couldn’t take your car of course, it’s obviously impaired.”

Poppy smiles and turns to look at Bea properly. She checks out every inch of her with no visible shame. An assessment so to say, and she likes what she sees.

“It’s your lucky day Poppy, I happen to know a thing or three about cars, and I desperately want to get this thing working so we can go on that date.” She winks playfully but god does she mean it. Bea silently prayed that the blonde wouldn’t take it the wrong way, but she knew she won when Poppy didn't protest, instead getting comfortable under some shade and holding her hand out, “the stage is all yours Jackson.”

***

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that I can’t jump over this obvious not-so-protected fence?”

“Judging by the sign right next to it that says...oh wow who would’ve thought, “DO NOT ENTER”, I don’t think so”, Poppy deadpans. It didn’t phase Bea of course because she was already halfway up the fence when the blonde turned away from the sign. The girl had a point to prove, maybe not a valid one, but still a point.

Poppy pinches her eyebrows in exasperation before looking back up to a nonchalant Bea swinging her legs from the top of the fence. She winks down at the blonde, “join me?”

Poppy didn’t expect to be climbing fences with a charismatic girl who had the same color hair as her when she moved schools, but she found herself embracing every moment of it. Although the trip up there was a struggle and some.

“I swear to god there’s a wire in my ass.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And we’re both going to end up in the hospital. Get. me. Down.”

Bea tries to hold in her laughter the whole way down but lets it loose when she sees Poppy still up there, partly hovering in the air. “Pops...I’ll catch you, don't worry. Climb down slowly.” She doesn’t. But Bea had her feet planted and ready because any moment with the sassy blonde was unpredictable.  And she loved it. Especially because she had Poppy engulfed in her arms and they were so close their noses touched.

Bea promised herself she’d kiss the girl next time.

***

“You’re...in a gang?”

Bea felt a clasp of cold air enter her lungs as she stared ahead. It wasn’t like she could hide it from Poppy. She has a reputation, and word has gotten around about the two getting close. This was just like that one time at the end of sophomore year where Bea met Kelly Hall, a beautiful girl with golden rimmed glasses. Unfortunately she only could imagine what could’ve been after whispers ended up right on the doorstep of Kelly’s parents, and she suddenly changed her number, and switched out of every class she had with Bea.

The blonde didn’t want to entertain the thought of Poppy doing the same, but this was a lifestyle she chose.

“I mean...how?”

Bea sighs and turns to look at her, “I fell into the wrong crowd. Or maybe it’s the right one because I never found a true home until I met them. They’re family, I wouldn’t expect you to get it though and I understand if you want to distance-”

“I of all people know what it’s like to not fit in Jackson. You’ve found people who make you feel safe. Maybe I don’t agree with the troubles that come with being in a gang but I don’t know the whole story.”

“Do you want to?”

Poppy wraps her arms around Bea’s and lays her head on her shoulder, “I want to know that you won’t get yourself hurt but I know that’s nearly impossible.”

Bea exhales slowly, not knowing what to say. She knew that this would upset Poppy but her acceptance meant more. She didn’t know what this would mean for the two of them, if there was a “them”, but she felt more encouraged to share more of her other life with the blonde.

“Just promise me one thing Jackson.”

“Yeah?”

Poppy’s voice comes out softer than expected, and Bea ingests every emotion that comes with it, “Promise me you won’t ever put yourself in a position where you have to choose between me or the gang.”

Bea finds her hand in the space where their thighs touched and latches onto it like a lifebuoy,

“I promise.”

***

“I just remembered something Poppy.”

“What, that you have half a brain cell? I thought that was established Jackson.”

Bea launches a pillow that (purposely) misses Poppy’s head by an inch. If she actually hit her and frizzed up her locks then she’d never hear, or see..or walk again.

“I’m being serious. I just remembered this too, we never went on that car date we talked about.”

Poppy squints her eyes in confusion, but was fully aware of what Bea was referring to. “You mean the first time we met?”

The blonde smiles to herself as she replayed that day in her head over and over again. She couldn’t decide if Bea’s openly flirty behavior is what drew her in or if it was her ability to fix any of her possessions with ease. And for free.

Bea pulls Poppy up by her hands until her back is against the lockers. Another perfect opportunity for the blonde to make do of that promise she made to herself, but something told her to wait just a bit longer. “So what do you say? Poppy Min Sinclair, will you go on a date with me?”

Poppy rolls her eyes playfully, pulling Bea in closer by the collar of her letterman, “now who’s being dramatic?”

“I didn’t hear a no”

“I think you know what the answer is.”

That night Zoey helped Bea prep for her first date with the girl that she could say she was almost in love with. The taller girl brushed some dust off of Bea’s jacket and planted her hands on her shoulders, “remember Jackson, give her the ride of her life. And I mean that in every way possible.”

Thanks Zoe.

Bea watched Poppy drive up in front of her house and something inside her mind couldn’t deny the pang her heart let out when she saw Poppy smile the way she did.

Bea took control of the driving and told Poppy to recline her seat and enjoy the ride, with her seatbelt on of course. Safe sacrifices. They cruised through an empty highway blasting Poppy’s spotify playlist named “Rich Bitch Songs” because that was their ideal perfect date. It’s amazing that the two could even come to an agreement, but here we are.

She watched the beautiful blonde sing her lungs out and couldn’t help but mirror her joy, taking her hands off the steering wheel. The pump of adrenaline prompts a new excitement in the air and Poppy wraps Bea into a secure hug, her hair flying wildly with the wind. Bea slows the car down but the rapid beating of her heart made it seem they were going 100 miles per second.

“I feel so alive Jackson.”

Bea stared at the girl in the passenger seat with a look that could only be described as love.

“You make me feel alive.”

Poppy kept talking and Bea found a way to focus on both the road and the blonde next to her. Because when you truly enjoy something, you’ll find a way to keep experiencing it. And Bea enjoyed hearing Poppy’s voice, she loved everything about her.

“I feel like kissing you.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“...Nothing. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

They kiss when Bea pulls over.  A hot feeling consumes them like fire when their tongues collide and Bea plants her hands around Poppy’s hips, pushing her back into her seat until she’s on top. The windows easily start to fog up in reaction to the heat, and not once did they take their hands off each other.

Promise 1/2 kept

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

End Note: This chapter was to build their relationship, more angst incoming. BIG THANKS to @somewillwin for letting me use Jackson <3333

Taglist: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @poppysmc @doey-eyes8 @veenast @straightlikewetspaghetti @phoennixxsblog @a-ghost-girl

[dear-heather-gray]

“Front lines”

About: Smut of Kaeya having your services being served in the front lines ;)

🧍‍♀️I might redo this, this is just based on a daydream I had.

Wattpad: Tainted_Desires

——

“Oh? It seems you made it on time for once.” The cryo user said, his arms crossed against his broad chest as he stared down at the famous “honorary knight”. “Yes, what did you need my help with?” Y/N said, tilting her head up to face Kaeya. “Well, you see...” He began, pausing soon afterwards as he walked around his desk slowly, almost tauntingly. “The Abyss order has been a bit more active than usual, so I’d like it if you came with me to investigate. After all, maybe you can find more use for me on the front lines. How 'bout it boss?” The traveler blinked, tilting her head before agreeing after silently eyeing the exit. “Haha, just don't feel intimidated by what I can do.” He finished, his lips pulling upwards into a small smirk before he reached for a paper on his desk, soon presenting it to Y/N.

“This right here, is our main suspect. This fire mage, from what we know, has been the one causing all this trouble.” He started to explain. “The odd thing about him? He throws a red shimmery bottle filled with god knows what.” Y/N frowned a bit. “Do we know what exactly it does?” A chuckle passed his lips as he stared down at her. “It’s been making people behave...interesting, to say the least. It’s best we don’t get hit with it ourselves.” With that last bit of information, the two went on their way to confront the fire mage behind the ruckus.

—

Upon arriving, Y/N couldn’t help but notice what seemed to be red shimmery slime on the tiles on the bridge. The closer they got to the end of it, the more there was. Speeding up her walk into a light jog, she quickly came to a stop when Kaeya held out his arm, his other hand resting above his sword. In front of them laid a scene unlike no other. A few of the knights were laid out passed out on the ground with their swords not too far from them, cheeks flushed with red along with their suits being splatted with that same shimmery red liquid Y/N show on the bridge. Looking at their faces more clearly, she noticed a red hue painted on their face. Mouths part open slightly as drool came slowly trailing down, eyes dazed while some had theirs closed. Y/N squatted down next to one of the fallen knights, fingers reached out to touch the liquid when her wrist was harshly grabbed before she felt her body being jerked away. “Ah ah ah, remember what I said in the office? Let’s not touch it. But then again,” He released her hand. “If you’re dying to touch it, be my guest.”

Y/N stared at the captain before scoffing, what was it with him and his words? “Kaeya, we don’t know what it does! We can bring a sample back to Lisa, for her to test. Wouldn’t it be best if we do tha—“ “Kufufu...” Standing up and summoning her sword, Y/N turned around and gritted her teeth. “You!” She seethed out at the fire mage, her hidden frustration with working with Kayea coming out. “Wait, Y/N—!” Charging at the mage, she rose her sword to strike when he disappeared in flames, causing her to swing at nothing but the air. Turning around quickly on her foot, she turned around ready to strike once more when she noticed the mage appearing behind Kayea as they threw the liquid bottle at Kaeya who was caught off guard. Pausing her attack, she watched with wide eyes as Kayea turned around to swing at the mage only to be hit with the red liquid, staining his white parted shirt. It seemed as soon as the liquid hit Kayea, the mage did a brief dance before disappearing shortly afterwards.

“Kaeya! Are you okay?!” She asked rushing to his side, watching as he fell down to his knees. Her sword forgotten as she searched over his face. “I’m...fine..” He muttered out, placing a hand on his chest, pulling it away to reveal the red slime texture. Y/N cupped his chin and brought it up to her face, finding it odd how he seemed to purr in her grasp. “Y/N...” He began, traveling his gaze up to her face, a lazy smile on his face before he pushed her down with strength she was not expecting. “Kaeya?!” She exclaimed out, winching when her head made contact with the ground.

“Shh...You’re so cold...mind cooling me off?” He whispered in front of her face, lips slowly closing in on hers as Y/N’s eyes grew wider and wider. Just what had gotten into him? “Ka—“ Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to become victim to his touch. Kaeya gently connected their lips together while one of his hands gripped her hips, holding them to the ground while the other laid beside her head. A soft moan escaped his lips as he nuzzled his body closer to hers, grinding against her with no shame while Y/N’s face turned red as a tomato.

It wasn’t till he pulled away that she was able to speak, although not for long as Kayea went towards her neck. “W-What are you doing asshole?! Let...me go!” She said in a flustered panic, her hands placed on his shoulders to push away only to receive a playful bite on her neck. “Mhm...” Ignoring her passive aggressive response, the cryo user sat up on her waist, officially trapping her as he ran a hand through his hair, his signature smirk appearing. “Why, I’m showing you how you can be more use for me on the front lines of course.” Peering down at her, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Her cheeks flushed with slight sweat coating her body, eyes wide and panicked but most of all, helpless. His smirk seemed to grow more smug as he released a small chuckle, trailing a finger down her cheek. “Look at you...” Tilting her head back over to face him, he tilted his own and sneered down at her. “All hot and bothered by simple touches...” Releasing his touch from her, Kayea briefly glanced at the other fallen knights. “It seems that...this, thing can actually work in our favor—“ Leaning down close to her face, he continued. “Wouldn’t you say, Y/N?”

“Get ahold of yourself, this isn’t you!” Just what was in that bottle that mage made?! Her heart couldn’t take this abuse, especially from Kayea. As cliche as it as, she actually helped out more around town in order to gain his attention. She wanted to become closer to him. She had a crush on the most flirtatious person in this world. “I could say the same for you.” She jolted when she felt a pair of fingers trail over her shorts, directly on her pussy. “Just how wet did you get..? It’s seeping through, it’s almost pathetic.” He degraded with ease, his playful tone causing Y/N to burn with embarrassment. Trailing his hands over his own body this time, he made sure to put on a show as his hands went lower, bringing attention to the growing bulge in his pants.

“Just how long do you plan on denying it?” His hands went down to his zipper. “I can’t think straight...” He lightly whimpered as he freed himself from his personal hell, his pants. “Let me fuck you, Y/N.” He panted out, lightly grinding himself against her shorts. She stared at him through narrowed eyes before huffing, pulling down her shirt and soaked panties. “...” The moment he placed his dick onto her outer walls, he released a moan. “Oh fuck...” He held her hips, gaze staring down at her before he began to hump himself against her. The action alone caused her to feel her liquids starting to run down her thighs, her gaze flickering towards the dazed knights to the horny Kayea ontop of her. “Come on princess, I need you...don’t you want to help me?” He began to tease. “Use your voice, tell me.” He sneered once more. “I didn’t know you were such a slacker. You cant even tell me you want me inside of you, despite grinding against me?” Y/N glanced down only to see that he was right, he long stopped moving his hips. “I-I...” “Come on, you can do it. Just say, “Kayea~ Please make my pussy feel good~.” He said breathlessly, rolling his eyes back in a sense to mock her future expression. Y/N bit her bottom lip before lightly spreading her hole for Kayea to see, looking away as she harshly pushed the words out of her mouth. “I-...Kayea, p...please make my...p-pu...” She inhaled. “Pussy feel good.” The man had the audacity to laugh at her, wiping away a fake tear. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you?” Although this was torture for him to do, it was worth it. “Kaeya! P...PLEASE MAKE MY PUSSY FEEL GOO—MMFH?!” His hand placed itself on her mouth as soon as he pushed inside of her, watching her expression carefully before he shivered. “Damnit...Why are you so wet..? I fit right in, like a glove.” Removing his hand he watched as she herself shivered and gripped at his pants. “...I’ll...kill you...” She glared at him before closing her eyes, only to have her jaw grabbed forcefully. “Hm? Do you really want to say that?” To prove his point, his hips lightly thrust into her, immediately causing her to release a moan. “Come on, why don’t we enjoy ourselves?” Sitting up, he trailed his hands back down to her hips, massaging before grabbing them. “Try not to wake up our friends here, yeah? We wouldn’t what Amber to hear all from inside, after all..” Pulling out till the tip was in, he slammed back into her. “We’re right at the edge of the bridge.” Y/N gripped harder as she stared up at the peaceful sky, keeping her moans to a reasonable level.

“Oh god yes! It feels so good Y/N, you’re swallowing me whole at this point...Have you been practicing?” He teased, not giving any mercy to the girl underneath him as he chased after the pleasure and coolness he felt as he kept diving deeper inside of her. The deeper he went, the more his body felt better. “Come on now, wake up.” Y/N barely managed to glance at him as Kayea tilted his head. “Don’t want to be late, right? But then again, you really are a slacker...”

.

.

.

.

When she next open her eyes, she was inside the library. The amount of disappointment that she felt was almost as large as Zhongli not understanding when she told him a dad joke. Rubbing her face she released a frustrated groan. Standing up, she decided to see just exactly what the hell happened when suddenly she gripped the table. Just as she gripped the table, the door to the library opened to reveal the one person she was not expecting. “Oh? Here you were. My dear, were you trying to avoid me?~” Kayea said as he made his way over to her, wrapping one of his arms around her waist while the other cupped her cheek. “I thought you were resting in bed after yesterday, but I’m afraid I was mistaken. So, how was it?” He leaned closer to her face. “Did you like helping me on the front lines?”

[kpopchangedme]

Sun-drenched [M] - Youngjae

Every time you opened your mouth something outrageous came out but unfortunately, your new dorky step-brother seemed to be immune. You couldn’t tell if Youngjae was actually that clueless or if your reputation preceded you. 

Protagonists: Choi Youngjae & You

Word Count: 4.6k

Genre: NSFW - Cringe Fest - Smut - slight exhibitionism - f*ckgirl - Stepbrother!au || [One Shot]

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

Your mother was doing that thing with her hair again, slightly shaking her head every time her new beau spoke. Every single bob invariably made her blonde curls spring. How disgusting. You had asked to be bleached once, a few years ago, and she had the audacity to claim it would look cheap on you. So unfair. 

She hadn't met her fourth husband for more than 6 months before she did just that. She thought it made her look younger, but Miami-midlife-crisis was more like it. It wasn't pretty wheat blonde, it was white yellow-ish banana buttercream. On-sale daffodil... Much like the sad ones Youngnam had gotten her from the convenience store yesterday.  They were now awaiting certain death in a crystal vase husband-number-two had gotten her for God knows what occasion.

You rolled your eyes when your latest stepfather started going over safety rules again. At your dad's there was never a need for them and if you correctly remembered the last time you had lived with your mom... You smiled, imagining how Dr. Top Surgeon would react if he found out his perfect church-going wife used to pop pills like candy and store a very impressive bong in the third drawer of her kitchen.

That would make for a fun scene. 

The goodbyes seemed to stretch half an eternity in the living room, after which you got dragged to the hall where the speech began all over again. Your mom gave you a short hug, more of a shoulder squeeze, then she pulled back and frowned with intent as much as her botox allowed. You shrugged off her silent don't-screw-this-up warning, already waving goodbye to her husband. Shoo shoo, you thought, sending the adults off to a far far away location. 

As soon as the door shut behind, you squealed in excitement. 

Summer had officially begun! 

Moving half across the country to fake “house sit” their new place while they honeymooned in Boca wasn't exactly what you had scheduled for your vacations. But when Youngnam accidentally let the words infinity pool and cars – as in with an S – slip out during the weekly video call, not even the dread on your mother’s face could’ve deterred you from flying over. 

As it turns out, Dr. Choi was loaded. 

Something you probably would’ve figured out earlier if you’d bothered showing up for the ceremony at all. Unfortunately, the wedding hadn't matched your Spring Break’ schedule and you decided having been present to the many previous ceremonies should be considered enough daughterly care for a lifetime. 

As you bent to the freezer for a celebratory parent-free popsicle, you felt the eyes of that gift-that-came-with-the-house glued to your ass. He briefly glanced down at the flash of your stomach’s skin when you jumped to sit on the counter. 

Surprisingly enough, your mother’s many rings had never once come with a step-brother before...

Usually, she went for the bachelor or womanizer types and those had the decency to never have baggage. Dr. Choi was a break of pattern and the news came with complete horror on your part.

For as long as you could, you had made a duty of never meeting his son, pretended he didn't even exist. So when the bubbly blended trio came to pick you up at the airport yesterday, you had been shocked.

They had said soloist of the local Choir and you’d heard; loser. Piano lessons? Dork. All-boys school graduate? Stuck-up. Computer Science Major? Nerd alert.

No one had talked about… That.

As a matter of fact, Choi Youngjae himself had not spoken much either, but he was certainly looking... 

And there were few things you enjoyed more than having a man's undivided attention.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen in all his glory, your new step-brother was staring, as usual, watching intently as you sucked your popsicle. You made sure to make a show of it.

“So… What about lunch?” He finally asked even though it was barely 9. Just to rattle him you hummed on the sugary treat as a reply. Mission accomplished. “S-Should I order pizza?”

“Don't worry, I’m easy...” Youngjae’s gaze fluttered down to your belly ring again. Boy, if he liked that one he had a few things coming. “I’ll eat anything if it's on you.”

Gaze widening, he pretended to look at something over in the living room and walked away.

Wait no, the poor guy literally bolted out of the kitchen to escape to safety. So fast one could wonder if this whole first exchange was the fruit of your devious imagination.

Oh no, you had just traumatized your babyish step-bro.

It made sense, you were one scary bitch.

All-boys school graduate? Virgin, you mentally took note. 

Or perhaps your mom had said something about you devouring the souls of poor innocent men. They said the apple never fell far from the tree. Grinning like a shark, you discarded the melting popsicle in the trash.

This promised to be one Hell of a summer break. 

______________________

“It’s been more than 10 minutes...” Chimlin flipped the phone over to yell unintelligibly at her demonic baby twin sisters. Despite the protection, you winced. “No DMs.”

“Then he hasn’t seen it yet.” Artlessly reporting for BFF’ duty was a lot more fun face to face, but for a few months, video calls would have to do. “Trust me.”

“I don't know,” she whined, going on all over again about how her boyfriend hadn’t picked up the phone since their nightly routine fight of yesterday. 

Sometimes you wondered if you’d even follow her back on Insta if you met this current sad version of herself. Kinda hard to tell, but she used to be the coolest baddest chick on campus. Then she was partnered with that Italian exchange student for a Statistic class, disgustingly dripping pheromones, cash and European pizzazz. Yes, Statistics. The most boring course ever, let's be real. But Chimlin was a genius, the deadly hot kind. No matter how shit-faced she was, that girl could track the B-52s and Gin Tonics’ calorie count of each respective member of your girl squad, not that she'd ever had to care herself.

Then Massimo came. At first, he was just a casual hook-up, but he managed to worm his way into her brain and grew there like a tumour. By the end of last semester, they were full-on steady-going together like in cringy 90s rom-coms. He was always stuck to her like a parasite.

Gone was your favourite 4 feet 11 party animal.

“Do you have any idea how many bitches Mas could meet this summer?”

You snorted, “Not even close to the number of dicks you could have in Pattaya if you wanted to.”

“Phatthaya,” she corrected automatically with a dramatic eye-roll. “That’s the thing, I don't want to. I only want one dick and he's miles away.” She waved her hand to brush it off right as your mouth opened in protest.

Her Italian barnacle did want to remain with her on campus for summer, but Chimlin thought she had better plans that involved a lot more beaches and fruity drinks. She simply couldn't live with her own poor life choices now and you were just about to tell her so when a flash of skin on the screen distracted you.  

“What else have you been hiding?” You sing-sang, impressed by the view. 

She glanced over her shoulder, “That's my uncle. Like... He’s literally my mom’s lil’ brother. Gross.”

“I know what an uncle is and that's a very hot one if I’ve ever seen one. You can look.”

“We’re not all depraved sluts like you.” She only half-teased with a sharp laugh. “How's the cute new brother doing, by the way?”

“No idea.” You flipped the camera and zoomed on Youngjae's bedroom window like to prove a point. The curtains were drawn, concealing anything worth mentioning from view. You were lounging by the pool on one of those fancy long chairs, much as you had been for the past week. Margarita, sunscreen, repeat. If this boring routine went on, you’d be so tanned by the end of summer no one on campus would recognize you. Sometimes you did think Youngjae's curtains were wobbling, maybe he was spying on you but it could all be your imagination. “Typical. He's been in hiding from me since day one.”

“I don't blame him.”

“Don't blame me for wanting him either. He's a good boy in a bad boy’s body.”

“I don't even know what that means...”

“No one does. But he's not cute, he's hot. I need him all over me and I've been telling him so, but he's strangely elusive. I think he hits the gym above the grocery store on the corner, I should join.”

“Stalker.”

“I don’t stalk, I live in his house.”

“No wonder the poor guy doesn't go out of that room, I bet he picked up on all your slutty energy.” In the rectangle screen, Chimlin switched to tan the other side and you did the same, laying on your back.

“Ha ha. He'd have to be moronic not to,” you were holding the phone above, casting a partial shadow on your face.

“Your legend precedes you. He's scared you're gonna trap and fuck him.”

“What else am I supposed to do when you've abandoned me and flew to the other side of the world? You know I need a summer project.”

“And of course, it had to be a guy.”

You were so glad she stopped whining about Mas for a minute that you let that one slide. “Well, I am not a needlepoint kind-of-girl.”

“Right, hey maybe it isn’t the incest that’s creeping your brother out. Maybe he's gay.”

Someone snorted out loud at that – not you – and you sat up in alarm.

Two guys were standing by the edge of the pool.

“No, he's not,” said the one on the left, a smile in his voice. They were directly in your sun, so you had trouble making out their features. One silhouette was slightly slumped, the other tall and all limbs. You suddenly felt very exposed, dropping Chimlin to fasten your bikini top in a hurry. This show wasn't for strangers to enjoy.

“Who are you?” The second man asked, clearly lost.

“She's it,” the other echoed.

“Who are you? I live here.”

“We're your brother's social life,” the frisky one smiled largely, kind of in a dangerous way that you immediately recognized for your own. Friends, they were Youngjae's friends and they very clearly overheard your embarrassing banter with Chimlin.

Flushing – a rare occurrence – you brought a hand to shield your eyes from the sun while you corrected; “Step-br–”

A sharp voice cut in, “She's not my sister.”

Behind, Youngjae was standing awkwardly by the patio door, a stern look on his face. He didn't seem surprised his people were there. He didn't even glance in your direction before disappearing back as you blankly stared after him. 

“Well, thank fuck,” the you-guy turned to wink, following him inside. “Good luck with your summer project! I’ll root for you!”

In a daze, you picked your phone back up. Chimlin was still there, waiting dilligently to be briefed on what just transpired. You puffed your cheeks, mentally preparing for what was to come.

______________________

Swear to God, Youngjae had not come out of that room for two days.

Two.

Fricking.

Days.

Maybe he had a fridge in there.

Maybe he only came to life after midnight like a vampire to avoid the whore squatting his dad’s house. 

Whatever his annoying friends told him had certainly made a lasting impression. You just hoped he wasn't the type to go cry to parents whenever something happened. You had no intention of going back to your tiny dorm all alone and sad for the summer just because you hurt his feelings by finding him bangable. Or worse, at your father's.

What was he even thinking?

You had not done anything wrong. Pushed a bad joke a little bit too far perhaps, nothing to get all worked up about. No reason to get shunned out of your mother's life again. 

Youngjae's reaction, or lack thereof, was way out of line.

It's not like you had actually done anything to him. He was such a prude. A prude that eye-fucked you all the time!

Church baby boys were the worst.

What an ass.

.

.

.

Three days?!

Three days of an overly empty house. The atmosphere had gotten so heavy, the air so tense you couldn't even think about anything else. There was nothing left to do. Just sit on the couch inside or by that dumb infinity pool, starring at the drawn curtains of your step-brother's bedroom. They weren't wobbling anymore.

Which was what you were actively doing this afternoon, ruminating your dark thoughts for hours. You didn't even notice you were getting dangerously warmer. When your timer went off, announcing it was sunscreen time again you nearly fell from your chair. 

Doing the legs was the easiest part, your favourite to be honest. They were one hell of an asset of yours. You were massaging the thick lotion on your right calf when something at the corner of your eye caught your attention. 

For a heartbeat or two, you thought you were hallucinating. 

Youngjae had finally reappeared. 

He was standing at the end of the pool, a knapsack thrown over his shoulders. His thumbs were hooked in the straps, hands dangling to his sides like dead weights. If he looked like a young boy at first glance, the heated look on his face was one of a man.

Frozen still, you gulped. True to form, he kept staring for a long moment before turning to the house and you thought he was about to go into hiding again – but oh no, fuck – he was actually pacing towards you. 

“I’m back.” Youngjae blurted out awkwardly, mouth twisted. 

Yours was opened in a mix of disbelief and shock. He was actually addressing you. “Back?” From where the corner store?

“Yes,” his eyes ghosted over your poor excuse of a bikini before anchoring themself back to safety in yours. Again, horny eyes. If you were warm earlier, now you were burning up. “I thought it'd be better if I stayed away at Bam's for a few days…”

Right? No one could actually stay between four walls so dilligently. It made sense. You were so dumb.

Apparently, your confusion was evident. “Didn’t you notice I was gone?” No, you had not. So your step-brother was so freaked out being around you that he actually moved out for a few days. Had you gotten that bad? Jesus. “Anyway, I’m back home with you now.” 

Youngjae took a step closer, kindly getting in your light so you'd stop squinting at him. He looked even hotter in the bright light of day, sweat pearled between your breasts. He frowned and bit his lower lip waiting for a reaction. The things you'd do to that perfectly proper mouth. 

Of course, what came out of yours at the moment was less than appropriate. He was right to be scared, you weren't safe at all.

“Wanna do me?”

Yes, you were that bad. Terrible indeed.

“Do I-I,” he gasped for air – oops, “w-what?”

“My back,” you clarified smiling like a prisoner that hadn't been fed a good meal in days, “sunscreen.” The poor man should've stayed far far away from you. 

You weren’t crazy or desperate, but you couldn't resist. You had been patient and unusually upright so far. You deserved a treat. You were hungry and you knew your step-brother wanted you too, he wouldn't have felt the need to hide away otherwise. Youngjae had an interesting duality, shamelessly thirsting over you one minute and getting flustered and embarrassed the next. He must have been deeply unsettled by your open invitation because before you could flip over, he had claimed possession of the bottle. 

Or maybe he just didn't need to be asked twice this time. He knew. He wanted to give in to temptation. Why would he even come back here otherwise? 

Laying down, you reached to undo the bikini strings, pressing your loosely covered chest against the rough towel on the chair. You waited.

“You must really hate tan lines,” Youngjae said in your back, sounding tormented, “it seems you're never properly wearing clothes.” He sat down in slow motion like an obedient little boy as you grinned. 

“Are you ever gonna put your hands on me?” You teased once more, it was like a string was tugging up your insides through that dirty mouth of yours. You wanted to keep pushing him, wanted to find out what it'd take to make him break. And just fuck you really. It was fighting the inevitable by now. 

Every guy you met wanted to have you.

Usually, you didn't have to beg.

“I'm trying not to,” he admitted the obvious. “I promised I would never touch you,” Youngjae grumbled and you jerked in surprise when lotion spurted on your lower back. “Promised my father I’d treat you well.”

It made sense, a good boy would never disobey and do his dirty step-sister. If your legend preceded you, his golden son’s reputation certainly did too. Honestly, this promise made the taunting easier and even more tempting. It made for a funnier challenge and the spark in Youngjae's eyes when he looked at you hinted you could break him if you really tried.

You were about to defy his ethics again when words went back down your throat, letting way to a sharp sigh. He had suddenly fully committed to applying your sunscreen, fingers exploring your skin. You asked to be touched and he had risen to the occasion, firmly rubbing the lotion on your naked back. 

Earlier you had every intention of teasing him further by enjoying this a little too much, but you weren’t sure it was entirely voluntary when the first moan escaped. If he wanted to keep it PG, he probably should’ve stopped right there, but it didn't seem to deter your step-brother. He kept going, massaging you along the way. His thumbs traced circles up your spine until one of his palms cupped your nape. 

Perhaps this is what an erotic massage was supposed to feel like, heaven. Every stroke was totally appropriate, very perfect boy-ish, but still, your toes were curling. After a few minutes, Youngjae's breathing was heavy, he was enjoying this impromptu contact just as much.

You both had made yourselves obvious these past weeks; him with the eye-fucking, you with the open-truths. Clearly, the forbidden nature of your desires would make for an even more intense experience. You couldn't even imagine how it'd feel to take it further now. 

“I've never had a step-brother before,” you mewled, mentally following the downwards path of his hands.

“I bet you love messing with me,” he replied, barely audible. 

His pianist’s fingers were now haltingly sliding up your ribcage. He wasn't rubbing in anything anymore, just caressing all he could reach. 

He was right, but you wanted more. That was the sexiest thing that happened to you in forever. Having a guy want you bad enough he had to hide away to resit, and now having his hands on you. You wanted him everywhere, all over. You didn’t care; step-brother promises or not.

Giving in to temptation, you turned around, resting on your elbow. Your untied bikini had not followed so you watched as his face fell in realization. Youngjae's mouth opened in awe, eyes glued to your bare perky breasts. At the moment, there was absolutely nothing going on in that male brain of his. He didn’t move; you helped.

As soon as you put one of his hands on your chest, he came back to life. 

“Jesusfuck,” he breathed out, completely winded.

Wow.

Church baby boys were the best.

Entertained, you reached for the sunscreen, pouring lotion on yourself again. “You aren't done.”

“I…” Youngjae swallowed back his protests, cupping your boobs with both hands. He couldn't even look up anymore, enthralled by your nakedness.

No matter what their intentions were, it seemed good guys were still guys after all. If you had known he was this easy to overwhelm, you would’ve walked around topless sooner.

“The neighbours will see us...”

He didn't seem to mind that much, seeing as his thumbs were stroking your pierced nipples relentlessly. If those middle-aged housewives you only caught glimpses off looked over the edge now, they’d have a pretty impressive show. 

“Let them,” sitting, you snaked a hand to his dramatic bulge. Your mouths got so close you felt his breath ghost over. Beaten by your expertise, his shorts’ button came undone first, his fly was even more compliant. 

The moment of truth.

Youngjae's whole body shook when you took his cock in your palm. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Fuck, he was so hard and flushed for you. He pinched your erected nipples in response and you felt a familiar vivid jolt of pleasure and pain down to your toes. Not a virgin, after all, no doubt he would handle you just fine. 

You pressed your mouth to his neck and sucked, right where his Adam's apple bobbed.

That's it, all for you. You were so going to eat up that good boy.

“Mmmm, I’ll tell daddy you’re treating me so fucking well...”

Of all the filthy things you had said so far, this was the one that got the strongest reaction. The wrong one. Youngjae jerked up to his feet, tugging at his shorts in panic. He swore a dozen of times, out of his mind as you stood there, frozen still.

“Sorry,” he offered at last, pitiful before running for his life to the house. 

Fuck.

No.

Surely you were feverish. 

Having a heatstroke.

You had imagined the whole thing.

You had not just being left out cold by a man.

This type of shit never happened to girls like you. 

It took a few minutes to gather back your thoughts and when you did, you decided this wasn't even close to completion.

Without wasting a second more you stormed inside the house, almost flying upstairs to that mythical off-limits bedroom of his. You didn't bother banging, he was in such a hurry he forgot to lock behind, so the door flew open. 

Like a scene straight up from a bad porno, Youngjae spun on his computer chair, a hand still wrapped around his fully erected dick. You couldn't believe your eyes.

“Are you jerking off?” He was already pulling up his shorts again to cover himself, caught red-handed, blushing as though you hadn't been doing it yourself a moment ago.

“I’m sorry, I don't think you–”

“Please don't stop on my behalf,” you waltzed in, confident, and sat on his well-made good boy's bed.

“W-What?” Youngjae blinked, even more, rattled by the sight. 

He didn't leave because he didn't want you, he clearly did. He probably only left because of his father and that dumb promise he mentioned.

“Is this how you've been dealing all along?” You laid back on the comforter, smirking and remembering all those afternoons by the pool you’d thought you’d seen his curtains fall. He certainly enjoyed spying so it gave you an idea. He could try to resist you all he wanted, you'd still made him cave. “You don't want to touch me, right?” Your step-brother nodded, spellbound. “Because you're the perfect son.”

He swallowed hard, “But you keep… Saying those things, sunbathing… And to my friends...”

“Yes, you’re right... So let's start over.” You sighed in fake contrition, “I'm sorry, I've made this so hard for you. I’ll be good too from now on.”

Youngjae scoffed in disbelief, “You are sitting topless on my bed.”

“Oh,” looking down at yourself, you cupped your breasts. “I thought you liked the looking.” His cock was standing up, glorious testimony to this mess. “Don't worry, I get it. I promise I won’t let you touch me...” Throwing your head back without breaking eye contact, you moaned and lightly twisted one of your pierced nipples. “But I’ll make you watch...” Out of his mind, Youngjae did just that as you caressed your own chest for him. Somehow his eyes on you now burned even better than his hands earlier. 

You were so turned on, so worked up by all the days of teasing and loneliness. Your hips started swaying on his bed, craving some fiction and release. 

“You're crazy,” his voice was laboured but he had yet to escape again. This time you wouldn't have followed.

“I-I'm so wet, Youngjae...” Giving in, your right hand fell to your sex, rubbing your last piece of clothing. He was captivated. 

“Fuck it,” he immediately breathed out in surrender, hand wrapping around his dick. That was it, you finally had him. He was all in, playing along with your new favourite family game.

No touching, just innovative teamwork.

You had to establish ground rules, but pushing them was what fun was all about.

“I want you so bad...” You mewled, slipping your middle finger inside your bikini bottom.

Stroking himself, Youngjae groaned, “So you’ve been saying baby, but now you have to show me.”

Oh shit. You were going to come so fast if the golden son had other surprises like that. In a hurry, you wormed out of your panties before he could change his mind once more. In front of his fully clothed self, you laid back, touching your damp slit while he observed intently. The whole experience was surreal, your mind was buzzing, overwhelmed by the wrongness of it all.

It felt so amazing though.

Touching yourself for your step-brother was the sexiest thing you’d ever experienced, and you were very accomplished. You would’ve done anything he'd asked of you, and Youngjae knew that but he abided by his dumb rules. Standing up he came closer, boxer messily shoved down from his earlier haste, one hand was in his hair, the other working hard. You kept rubbing your clit repeatedly letting him see, hastening the pace until you were numb all over, panting. 

“Youngj-jae, I-I–”

Moaning, you broke faster than you had ever with someone, then again no one knew how to make you reach your own high better than yourself. Paroxysm made your thighs jerked as the pleasure waved through you, annihilating all sense of your surroundings.

When you came back, your step-brother was giving up too, bursting in thick spurts of hot cum all over your body and chest. His eyes were wide opened in black elation, intense, not missing a second of the show as he came on you. His whitish-gray seed painted your bareness in ribbons until he was completely emptied.

In silence, Youngjae dropped next to you on the bed, hands covering his face as you both caught your breaths. His now softening dick was still protruding out of his shorts and underwear for the world to see. It probably made for quite a view; your naked body covered in semen right by your respectable step-brother’s way more humble cock.

If your parents came home early, they would both have a stroke.

Youngjae sort of kept his word though... For today at least. 

Because now that you had him all over, you knew you were going to crave him under you.

And no man had ever resisted your charms before.

Step-brother or not.

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

[brittledame]

Pairing: Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, Cursing, Hair-pulling, Name-Calling, Hate Sex, Spanking, Slight degradation, Panty stealing, Table sex

Word Count: 7.6K

Summary: A school project brings together two academic rivals, where their dislike for one another reaches a whole new level. You and Shirabu constantly duke it out for the top grade, where it becomes an everyday occurrence to see the two scowling at and insulting one another. The tension between you two finally reaches a boiling point one afternoon when an argument breaks out.

Series: Part 1 of 3 (Part 2 & Part 3)

Shiratorizawa was a private school full to the brim of prestige and practically screams ‘money’. Inside of the sleek modern exterior, each extracurricular club ranging from calligraphy to kyūdō possessed state-of-the-art facilities. Basically, you name it and there was most likely already a club for it, with each one allocated a ridiculous amount of funding. It did help that a lot of old and new money sent their kids to the school, which unfortunately leads to uppity pricks with uptight attitudes flaunting their wealth at the drop of a hat festering the hallways.

One such uppity prick went by the name of Shirabu Kenjirou and he was the bane of your existence. He came from an affluent background, old money resulting from smart trades in property stock way back before the global telecommunications were even conceptualised. You could smell the money oozing from his pores in the form of some ridiculously over-priced Giorgio Armani cologne, topped off with his neatly pressed uniform and copper-toned hair perfectly sleek.

The part that pissed you off the most about the male, and has led to your open dislike for the asshole, was the fact that he got into Shiratorizawa solely by his phenomenal grades, never once relying on daddy’s money to get in, like most of your cohort. Meanwhile, you made every single second count when studying, not a moment wasted between school and sleep, just to hope to qualify for the academic scholarship. For a while your parents fretted that you were studying too much just to pass some school’s entrance exams, where their platitudes of ‘you’re already plenty intelligent enough, honey’ and ‘you could ace it this very moment’ weren’t enough to soothe your stressed mind.

Not even three months later, you sat the exam and low and behold, you did ace it, much to your amazement. It was a beautiful moment, witnessing your name on their admittance board not even a month later, tears of relief gathering in your eyes. The only thing that ruined your moment was the name that ranked just above yours, taking in first place: Shirabu Kenjirou. So, your well-known rivalry with the copper-tinged blonde asshole started one-sided and quickly evolved into something much greater than you could’ve ever imagined.

For both your first and second year, you shared the same class as Shirabu. It was to be expected since you were both in the same grade average bracket, but still a girl could dream, right? Much to your ever-growing annoyance you were placed in the same third year class as well. Evidently you were unable to escape his prickly attitude.

Every task, assignment and exam became a silent challenge between the two of you. Each and every time, you’d throw yourself into your studies just to wipe the smug look he gives you every time he pulls through with the top mark.

The worst part of all this was the fact that he consistently pulled high marks while balancing a sport on top of his studies. You’d have to give it to him, you honestly don’t know when he manages to fit in eating and sleeping in that hectic schedule of his.

Now to place two head-strong individuals together was just begging for trouble, especially when your little competition has reached infamy around the sprawling campus. Turn out trouble is exactly what your science teacher was looking for when she placed the two of you together for the physic unit’s partner research report about their topic of choice. You looked at her like she’d lost her goddamn mind, not sparing the equally shocked Shirabu a glance. You didn’t even bother to argue with her, knowing it would’ve ended up worse somehow if you did.

“Fuck.” You muttered, hoping four the next six weeks to pass quickly

As soon as the Ms. Nakamura dismissed the class, you marched over to his desk. Stopping directly in front of him, you perched your hands on your hips and gave him a disdainful look.

“Look, for the course of this project I am willing to be civil with you.” You place a genial hand over your chest to complete your saintly sacrifice. Looking up, Shirabu gives you a blank look, before returning to annotating his textbook with bright sticky notes.

‘What a fucking dick,’ You silently seethe.

“Whatever. Just pick a topic and I’ll start on it.” His monotone voice serves to piss you off more. You curl your hands into tight fists, resisting the glorious thought of punching his pretty face.

“Um, I think not. We’ll pick the topic out together and we’ll equally distribute the work. I don’t want to hear you bitching to your hot teammates that I’m slacking.”

Grabbing a vacant chair near his desk, you spin it around and sit on it backwards, ignoring his disgruntled look. Tapping on your phone, you open a new contact and start filling it out.

“What’s your number, dickhead?” Shirabu’s head shot up at the insult and you grin at him, shaking your phone in front of his face.

“None of your fucking business, bitch.” He bites out, forehead creasing as he glares at you, completing his signature expression.

“Well, asshole, if you somehow managed to forget already, let me remind you. We need to collaborate on this and to do that, we need a line of communication. Texting is the easiest option.” You reason. You weren’t fond of the idea of Shirabu having your number either, the ass will probably write it in the boy’s changeroom as retribution for some misdeed you’ve done.

Deliberating, Shirabu’s pen stops its furious scribbling. Heaving a great sigh, he concludes that unfortunately you were correct, but that didn’t mean he had to explicitly admit that.

Snatching your phone, he ignores your indignant shout as he taps out his phone number and tosses the phone back at you.

“Great, thanks for being a team player, sport.” You say, as you clean the screen off on the bottom of your uniform top.

As you get up and return the chair to its correct place, you trudge over to your desk whilst starting to conjuring up some topic ideas to suggest.

Peeking from under his uneven fringe, Shirabu watches your skirt sway as you walk. He loves it whenever you walk away from him, leaving him to both think in peace and admire the way your hypnotising hips move as you walk. The short purple plaid Shiratorizawa skirt left little to his imagination whenever you bent over, or a strong breeze came through. Shirabu briefly wondered how the hell you evaded the school’s disciplinary committee’s strict uniform coding monitors in the hallway because he’s sure that you’re breaking at least two of them on any given day.

The next day, you texted Shirabu the list of thesis concepts you wrote up. You were surprised when your phone vibrated in your hand, delivering his speedy reply.

Shithead: Sure.

What the fuck were you meant to do with that dry ass reply?

Now angry that he wasn’t taking you seriously, you texted him back to pick a god damn topic before you went over to his practice and caused a scene. And just like that he stopped being obstinate and picked the one you were secretly hoping he would choose; it was the one focusing on Einstein’s thought experiments how his process was adapted into modern-day quantum research.

After a few back and forth texts by that afternoon you had both scheduled a few meetups over the next few weeks for the more challenging components, such as devising a solid thesis and finding some credible academic papers to back-up your statements.

A week later found you waiting in the library, going through your homework as you wait for Shirabu’s team practice to end, hoping to make good use of some of your free time.

By the time Shirabu swept into the room, you had already gotten a good head start in the assignment. Dressed in his neatly pressed uniform and not a hair out of place, you almost suspected that he made up the excuse of volleyball practice to get out of spending anymore time than necessary with you. The asshole breezes past you, not even offering an apology or reason as to why he was late, but you could at least deduct that practice was at fault – that is if he even went.

“Well since you decided to keep me waiting for –“ You glance down at your phone, “forty-five minutes, I already started it. I’ve written both the study’s aim and objective and began devising the outline for what needs to be addressed in the introduction.” You say shortly, not waiting for him to seat himself and set up before you push your laptop across the desk and into his personal space.

Shirabu rolls his eyes at your accusing tone and started to read what you’ve written up in the shared word document. Kenjirou was mildly impressed at how much you accomplished in such a short amount of time, but he tried not to show that outwardly though, afraid your already inflated ego would grow. Grunting in agreement, Shirabu slid the laptop back over to you.

“That’s fine. I’ll start pulling some sources for the statements you outlined and start writing them up. Why don’t you start researching any recent projects detailing new discoveries and start collecting data to include?”

That last part was less of a question and more of a demand, but his usual flat tone made it hard to distinguish between the two. The lack of inflection in his voice could just about put anyone to sleep, and after sitting here for almost an hour in the calming atmosphere of the library, you were ready to start dozing off.

A sharp kick to your shin ripped you out of your thoughts, causing to to yelp and rub at the sore spot. A quick look at Shirabu’s smug face illuminated by his screen was enough to rid the last of your daze, begrudgingly returning to your work.

Two hours had passed, filled by the tap-tapping abuse of your keyboards and the occasional groan released by you at another paywall obstructing an article containing some nice data. Other than that, Shirabu was a quiet as a graveyard. You’d assume he had spontaneously passed away if not for the typing and blinking, the fucker didn’t even look like he was breathing.

What a completely boring guy with a nasty attitude. The most interesting thing about him was his unfortunate fringe, looking like he got mugged in an alleyway by a guy with no fine motor skills wielding a pair of scissors.

Plainly coloured hair, irises almost an identical shade of almost blonde but not quite there. He was of average stature, maybe a little below for the volleyball team. He was completely normal, nothing you would normally give a second glance while passing by, and yet…

You mentally shake away the unwanted thoughts conjured by the sight of his hands, or the slight flexing of his arm under the thin fabric of the uniform shirt.

Dirty little fantasies of Shirabu just snapping one day after one too many insults, throwing you over his lap and just going to town on your ass with the same hand that scored so many serving points for the elite team filled your head incessantly. The force would jostle you forward, tears in your eyes as you beg him – for what you don’t know, but you would beg and he’d wrap his strong hand around your throat, the threat of cutting off your blood flow to your brain was enough to stop your breathless begs.

Wrapped up in your raunchy thoughts, your typing ceases and your eyebrows furrow as you’re faced with the horrible realisation that you actually have feelings other than hate for the up-tight prick. The feelings were far from romantic, more likely resting somewhere between hate and dislike, but it was still the principle of the matter. Acknowledging those feelings alone felt like you ceded your part in a game that you two had unofficially started.

Fuck.

The next few weeks were going to be hell. You internally groaned at the thought.

You had no idea just how right you were, as the next few Friday sessions were almost unbearable for you since that day. After that dreadful meet up, one could slice the tension that brewed between the two of you with their bare hand, even though it was solely emanating from you.

As most horrific diseases start, it was all innocuous at the beginning. The session all started the same: witty quips and digging barbs swapped at the beginning of your sessions before silently coming to the unanimous agreement to not speak another word to one another unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then, you could feel the migraine pulsating threateningly behind your eyes at how effortlessly hot he was. The headache was quite literally the physical manifestation of the vexation you felt towards the irritating copper-haired male.

It turned out that your exasperation was mutual, Kenjirou thought if he had to sit through another session with your loud breathing or deafening clacking of your keyboard, he was going to start ripping out hair. He was at his wit’s end and he had no reason as to why you set him off so easily. Not even the over-exuberant Goshiki could elicit such a nasty comment so quickly from him, even on his worst days.

The tension mounting between you two from previous sessions hung heavy in the air, but neither of you were willing to acknowledge the elephant stampeding through the small and rarely used study room.

The irritating sound of your long, trimmed nails typing, no more like smashing, on your keyboard cut through the tension. It was enough to put Kenjirou on edge faster than any other assignment meet up. He’s had a hell of a week and while he didn’t have grueling practice today, spending it alone with you was the cherry on top.

Usually the silent and calming ambiance of the library never failed to soothe him when he’s tense and anxious, but his irritation was hitting a whole new level he’s never experienced before.

“I swear if you keep smashing at your keyboard like that, I’ll rip them off and shove them up your ass.” He seethes, hands curling into fists where they rested on the table.

Looking up, you give him an incredulous look before opening your mouth. God what Shirabu wouldn’t give to get that stupid mouth of yours to not ever open again. He’d be saving the world from one less idiot spreading their stupidity.

“That’s kinky Shirabu. This is a library, keep it in your pants and save it for the bedroom.” You tease, fluttering your long eyelashes at him paired with a plastic grin.

At the murderous look his gives you, you throw back your head and laugh quietly. You weren’t willing to face the librarian’s wrath if you broke the rules, even if you were situated on the deserted top floor in a room furthest from her station at the entrance.

Conversation stalls from there on out, with only the clacking of your keyboard’s once again filling the air, although you do take greater care when typing now, not that the asshole thanked you for your consideration.

Kenjirou watches you from his periphery as you brush your glossy hair over you your shoulder, ponytail bouncing with added weight. That stupid ass hair style that made Kenjirou want to reach over and yank –

“I know you lost a couple of brain cells playing volleyball but come on, are you really that slow?” You raised your eyebrow at him, glancing at the unfinished excel charts Kenjirou had elected to do.

Giving you an unimpressed look, he chooses not to bite, thinking he’s already wasted enough time acknowledging your existence. Kenjirou hadn’t even noticed you talking to him, he was just that used to tuning you out and hearing your annoying voice as background noise.

“Can you add a trendline to the data, so that the upward trend we mention in the discussion is clearly evident in the chart?” You carefully enunciate each word to him.

Your demeaning tone and slow talking really pissed Shirabu off this time, he clenches his jaw and expels an exasperated breath through his nose.

“I’d appreciate it if you don't address me like that ever again. A trendline on the data we collected is pointless, just a pretty line. If we generated the data ourselves, then maybe, but the studies these numbers are sourced off of don’t even have trendlines.” His reasoning is rock-solid, but he was a prick about it, so you rolled your eyes and moved on to the next section of the paper that needed sorting.

“Fine, I acquiesce. A trendline here would be rather inappropriate.” He scoffs at your formal language. This was coming from the same girl that he heard on many occasions say obscenities so vulgar it’d make a seasoned soldier blush.

Tense silence fills the void between you both. You brushed of the strange sensation of being on edge. It is true that Shirabu seems even more pissy than usual, but you’ve been dealing with his shit for weeks now, you could put up with two more sessions with the unbearable prick. Hopefully.

Focusing back on the shared document open before you, you stare blankly as you try to decipher his nonsense tables. Concerned, you quickly scroll through the rest of the discussion he had begrudgingly volunteered to complete. To your absolute horror, you noticed that your format of your portion of the discussion was utterly incongruous with his formatting.

Well shit.

While grammar mistakes and sentence structure could be tweaked and fixed within a day’s work, it would take you both at least a good day's to make the report’s content flow freely and have a singular format. Thankfully, you guys have the time to fix up his – and maybe some of your – mistakes.

“Could you not?” You say shortly, tacking on a sharp glare aimed at the bane of your existence.

“Could I not what? Use your big girl words.” He bites back, not even trying to hide his annoyance with you anymore.

“Could you please stop fucking up our assignment. I don’t know about you, daddy’s money, but I’d really like to get full marks for this.” You shoot back, angry that he had the gall to be annoyed at you when he was the one fucking up the format of the assignment.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m doing everything that we outlined in our past sessions.” Kenjirou fumed. He swears to fucking god, if he has to argue with you over the (lack of) importance of a trend line for this data set again he’s going to scream.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you miss the way his eyes quickly flit down. Kenjirou hates himself for the way his dick twitched at the sight of you inadvertently pressing your breasts together. Licking his lips, he allows you to stew over his words and watches as you reluctantly accept his logic.

It was true, you guys didn’t really decide on a true format in the initial planning phases, it seemed like a far-off issue to worry about at that moment. Well the future is now and that issue was just going to compound by the day if it didn’t get sorted out soon. It didn’t help that you hated editing papers with a passion.

At your silence, he rolled his eyes so hard you were scared they may get stuck – although he deserves at least that much for all the shit he’s given you over the past three years. He turned back to his work and went back to ignoring you.

Oh well, two can play at that game. You didn’t want, nor need, to talk to the prick anyway.

Shifting your restless legs under the table, you accidentally kick Shirabu in the shin, earning you a dirty look. Enjoying the ugly look of his face, you give him a sickly-sweet smile.

“Oops, my bad, Shirabu. I’ll sure to be more cautious next time!” Topping off your act with some obnoxious batting of your eyelashes.

“Do it again and I’ll wipe that look off your face real fast.” He sneered back at you.

Ignoring all common sense, you played with the idea of what exactly he meant by his threat. Most likely nothing sexual and most definitely involving a punch. But that doesn’t stop you from briefly entertaining a short sexual fantasy involving the two of you fucking in his chair.

Damn, these thoughts have been getting more frequent and out-of-hand recently. If they became anymore of an issue, you may just have to see the on-campus therapist about your obvious undiagnosed nymphomania.

True to your nature, you decide to grab the metaphorical bull by the horn to see how hard he bucks. Adjusting your posture again, you lean your elbows on the table as you uncross your legs and again hit his leg stretched out under the table.

You could practically hear Shirabu’s restraint snap, a dark expression taking over his face. He jerks up and out of his chair and proceeds stalks towards you, a dangerous glint in his ochre eyes.

‘Oh shit, I might have actually overdone it this time. He’s going to fucking kill me.’ You were frozen in place, not even breathing as he towers over your seated form. You mentally said your goodbye’s to family and friends. They wouldn’t be shocked to find out that you met your end due to pure pettiness.

You were expecting at least a slap, maybe even a gut punch, so when he grabbed your arms and hoisted you onto your feet, you assumed the absolute worst. Unexpectedly, he backed your body against the table, his hips pinning yours against the hard edge, making it dig harshly into your back.

You gasp as a calloused hand grabs the back of your exposed neck, the other moving to your waist. He pulls himself incredibly close to you. You're sure there isn’t an atom of space left between the two of you now, feeling every inch of his body pressed up against yours.

He bends down and breathes softly into your ear words that set off a blaze within you.

“I warned you not to try me today and yet you kept on pushing me.” His low tone sent shivers down your spine.

Hands flat on the table, you shove yourself up against his hard chest even more, meeting his dark expression head-on.

“I figured you were all bark and no bite, so what’s the harm?” Ignoring the sharp edge of his previous words, you kept making digs at him. You already made peace with the fact that you may die at the hands of the unfairly attractive man before you.

Snapping, Shirabu grabs you by your tie, pulling you upwards and meeting your lips in a fierce kiss. It honestly was more teeth than lips, but you’d take whatever he would give you. Lust quickly replaced shock as you reciprocated the kiss, giving back as much as he gave you.

Never one to be one-upped, you both furiously made out against the table. Eventually you reluctantly conceded to him, pulling away gasping for breath to fill your aching lungs. While he didn't look as effected as you, he still panted as he caught his breath.

Lips kiss-swollen from the hard kiss he gave you, he gulped at the mussed up look of your uniform from the short make-out session. The sight alone was enough to spur him back into action. You met his lips half-way, hands flying up to bury themselves into surprisingly soft hair.

The kiss was more than just that, it was a battle of wills. It was another challenge set before you both, another one added to the extensive list of trials. It tested who had the guts to resolve the unresolved sexual tension building between you both.

Fingers digging into your soft flesh, he easily hoisted you up onto the table, slotting himself between the space made between your open legs. The kiss picks up intensity as he throws in a few nips at your bottom lip, while you lightly bite at his tongue invading your mouth.

You gasp at a particularly harsh bite at your bottom lip, drawing back to give the self-satisified male a scowl.

“Oh? Is this the reason why you’ve always been so short with me. It’s cute that you don’t know how to act around your crush.” Your teasing words make the male between your legs tense up.

“I’d rather bite off my own tongue than date you, bitch.” He goes to kiss you again. It was the only thing that got you to shut up, which he very enjoyed.

“Who said anything about dating, dearest? My, my, so you have been thinking of me.” You laughed and gave him a belittling look.

“The only thoughts I’ve had about you involve either shutting you up or fucking you senseless, so make of that what you will.” He grits out between clenched teeth, not willing to give you that inch he threw out to you like a lifeline.

If he was going to go through with this, he at least wanted you to know exactly what he wanted to get out of it. Nothing more, nothing less.

You consider him under hooded eyelids, gaze sweeping up and down his clothed torso. Well at least he wanted the same thing that’s been haunting your waking thoughts for the past month. You weren’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth that's for sure.

“Sure, I mean you could try, but I doubt that you could even a moan out of me.” You said languidly, setting up another challenge. Now all he had to do was pick up the gauntlet.

Words igniting a fire within him, his lips tipped into a lopsided smirk. You had no idea what you just started and he was more than happy to show you the consequences of your bold actions.

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not going to stop until I hear you screaming.”

The room you occupied was situated on the top floor, at the end of a long corridor of empty study rooms exactly like this one. It was highly unlikely that the elderly librarian at the entrance would hear what was about to go down. It was also unlikely any snooping students would come across your study room on the neglected floor.

You fully expected him to pull you into another bruising kiss before fucking you but it seemed that the stupidly hot bastard was just full of surprises today. Instead, he pulled you off the table and turned you to face the chair he had previously occupied. With the hand placed at the nape of your neck, the other moving to your opposite side of your waist, he pushed you down to lie against the cold tabletop. Though definitely not for your benefit, he pushed aside any stray bits of paper out of your way to prevent them from creasing.

You gasp as the pressure he applies onto you forces the breath out of your lungs, pressing you hard against the unforgiving surface. Hands scrabbling for a purchase to help you establish a counter force to push up against him, he bends down and breathes softly into your ear.

“Look at you so pliant for me, I could get used to this.” His smug tone made your blood boil. That bastard was going to milk this situation for all it has and you have no ground to stand on to refute him when you were planning on doing the exact same.

“You know, your nasty attitude destroys that pretty boy stereotype you have going on.” You retort. You weren’t going to take his bullshit laying down – metaphorically speaking.

Fed up with you running your mouth, always talking but never saying anything of substance, he hastily loosens his tie. Without warning, he shoves a bundle of fabric into your mouth, quickly moving his fingers away from teeth that would gladly bite down onto his precious setting tools.

Trying to voice your anger, you squirm in his grasp with muffled nonsensical words leaving your mouth.

Kenjirou marvels at the sight of your stuffed mouth, words finally muted and wide eyes that were angry at his action. If he knew this is all he had to do to get you to shut up for more than two seconds then he’d gladly do it again.

Kenjirou couldn’t help but wonder if your cheeks would also look like that if he’s shoved his dick between your plush pink lips but he saves that thought for another day. After all, he had at least half a year left to put up with your bullshit.

Pressing his hips against your ass, he revels at the feeling of finally having you under him, squirming and all. Deciding not to draw this out anymore than he already has, he smoothly grinds his slowly growing erection into the cleft of your ass obscured by ugly purple plaid.

Unsatisfied with the lack of friction, he flips up your skirt to reveal lacy panties. He thought it was a bit risqué to wear them at school but who was he to complain about the lovely gift.

You gave a muffled shout when he snapped against the waist band against your hip. Tempted, you considered trying to kick him in the shin again somehow in your position. The thought dissolved into nothing as he lightly smacks your ass, causing you to jolt forward more in surprise than in pain.

With the absence of any complaints or irritating whinging, Kenjirou weighed the plump flesh in his hand, grinning to himself when he hears you moan at his curious squeezing. He wondered what other delicious noises you’ll make under him.

Well there was only way to find out.

Winding his hand back, his hand came down with a loud ringing smack, hard enough to leave his hand pleasantly tingling. The pink imprint of his hand on your ass was going to be burned into his mind for a long time, a wave a heat rolling through him and coalescing in his groin.

Again, you jolt forward at the impact, nails scratching at the acrylic lacquer of the tabletop, unable to find purchase. While you could feel the poor skin pulse dully with pain, pure arousal flashed hot and bright within you. If you had ever thought spanking would be something you were into, you’re pretty sure Shirabu was one of the worst people to discover along with, always the one to abuse any situation.

The next time his hand came down on your ass, you mistakenly tensed, causing the pain to shoot through you ten-fold. You wince at the sensation of him hitting the exact same spot over and over again. You were sure the spot would be rouge red by this point, but the pain didn’t take away from the pleasure you derived from his rough treatment.

Mixing things up, Kenjirou bites his lip as he aims a smack right at the apex of your thighs, close enough to your core that the vibrations of the hit ripped a lewd moan from your lips, much louder than the rest. Blood rushing down to his already engorged cock at your noises, he knows that he could easily get addicted to your bent form. You enjoying the spanking was just a fun bonus for him.

“I should’ve guessed you were into spanking. It fits the ‘good school girl’ façade you’ve got going on,” Shirabu hums, throwing the words back into your face. Leaning down, he breathes into your ear, “I could really get used to you like this beneath me. I have such big plans for you.”

Shivering at his low tone, your mind whirled chaotically with half-baked ideas of what exactly he had in plan for you. Honestly, as long as it ended up with his dick inside of you, you don’t care about the rest. You were always opposed to the saying ‘It’s not the destination, it’s all about the journey.’ And this situation was no different to you.

Kenjirou slides your panties over your ass and down your legs, half tempted to chuck them across the room just to see you panicking over locating them after this. On second thought… He shoves the offending piece of lace into his back pocket, as a present for himself putting up with you.

His hands bracket you bottoms of your ass and smooths his thumbs over the soft pink flesh. Kenjirou watching them slightly jiggle in the palms of his hand, admiring the rosy tinge he painted them. Kenjirou firmly decided that the flesh looked much prettier painted pink by the very hand that slammed balls over the side of the net with shocking force.

Fingers gliding over the cheeks and trailing downward, he makes contact with your wet lips. Mildly surprised, he runs a slender finer between them, gathering your juices.

“Look at how wet you are for me. I bet I won't even have to prep you, your greedy hole will probably just suck me in.” He states, rubbing his finger slowly -torturously - over the entrance of your hole.

You whine through your makeshift gag and buck your hips against his fingertips, hoping for them to dip in deeper. The pad of his crooked index finger dipped shallowly into you a few times from your efforts. Kenjirou was greatly amused at your efforts, deciding to hold his fingers in place for you to try and fail to fuck into yourself.

“Look at how desperate you are, it’s honestly pathetic. I expected so much more from you.” He tutted.

The flash of anger fizzled and died before it took root, much too distracted by him inserting his entire index finger in without warning. While you had explored yourself on more than a few occasions, mapping out sensitive flesh with your fingers, the feeling of his much longer and slightly thicker finger inside of you was incredible.

You whimper at the slick feeling of him moving his finger in and out of you, occasionally curling against the spongy tissue, seeking for the bundle of nerves that will make you scream. Slotting in another finger and him twisting them simultaneously had you panting and clenching your eyes at the full feeling from just the two.

Feeling your walls tighten and quiver around his finger as he crooked them a few times, he doubled down to find your erogenous zone before he fucks you. It only took another finger and few moments of scissoring them deep inside of you, indicated by your abrupt gasping jerk.

Licking his lips, he rubs his fingers harshly against the soft area, committing to memory the muffled breathy moans and whimpers that dropped from your panting mouth. Dick twitching, hard and painful within his tight slacks draws him out of his mind. He withdraws his saturated fingers from your sopping hole, briefly abandoning the sensitive spot for now.

Slumping, you simultaneously miss and despise his fingers fucking into you, hating that he found your G-spot quicker than you’d anticipated. The prick was too smart for his own good, the asshole probably knew more about female anatomy and orgasms than you did with biology being his best class.

The rustle of his pants being undone pulls you back to reality. Oh god this is really happening. Your breath picks up, anticipating the next move the bitter setter will make next.

The sensation of something long, hot and rigid, his dick you assumed, rests between your still stinging cheeks. His fingers dip back between your lips and gather more liquid arousal. Kenjirou ignores your groan at the odd feeling, preoccupied with smearing your slick over his dick, taking his sweet time.

One hand on his cock, guiding the tip to sit at your entrance, with the other placed for support on your hip. Tense, you waited for him to just slam on in, not anticipating him to draw out the moment. You hated the way that you squirmed at the thought of his dick being so close but so far away from where you wanted it most.

“You better hold onto the desk. Once I start, I’m not going to stop until I hear you screaming.” He said, smug tone and all ringing loud and clear.

You huff indignantly at his statement, as if to say: ‘Sure, whatever you say, asshole.’

Rolling his eyes, he tightens his grip as he starts to insert himself inside of you. Obviously taking pity on you, he graciously chooses to glide in at a decent pace. The breath was punched out of your lungs as he completely sheathed himself inside you, hot and throbbing. You try not to violently shiver around him because you couldn’t bare the thought of inflating his already unhealthily enlarged ego.

Dropping the niceties, as if there were any with Shirabu involved, he slid out not a moment later and slammed back on in, loving the sound of his skin smacking against yours. Sloppy sounds of your fucking fill the air and frankly you’d be pretty grossed right now if your brain didn’t reside in your pussy that very moment.

Fucking you from behind, Kenjirou grabs a fistful of shiny hair and harshly rips back your head, hot breath cascading over perspiring skin.

“You take me so well, like you were made for me. Maybe I should fuck this hole of yours again sometime.”

In retribution, you clench down as hard as feasibly possible, hoping to knock him off of that high horse of his. The grunt that rings in your ears pacifies your ire, but the unexpected resistance doesn't stop him from trying to fuck up into you even harder.

Pardoning his attitude, you loosen up for him, more so for your own pleasure than his. He doesn’t hesitate to pick up his unforgiving pace, pumping in and out of you like a sex-crazed mad-man. Eyes rolling into your head, you felt the tip of his thick dick kiss the entrance of your cervix, which paired fantastically with the friction his thick cock made against your quivering walls.

Moaning around the tie as he furiously fucks you from behind, you can feel the piece of fabric become saturated with your drool. He seemed to appreciate the sounds you made, hands tightening around your hips and starts to seek out the highly sensitive spot hidden somewhere inside of you.

Every time he slid out, he’d readjust his angle with only the tip still in before slamming back on into, waiting for the moment he found his target. The pain of the table cutting into your stomach is buried underneath the pleasure Kenjirou relentlessly delivered to you.

An idea flashed in Kenjirou’s mind, a cruel one, but not too cruel as revenge for all the shit you’ve put him through. Unknowing of the feral grin on his face, you continued to moan as his dick fills you so perfectly, suddenly jolting when you feel his warm lips against your throat. You let out a squeal and clenched down hard around his length when you feel his teeth bury into the soft skin. Manicured nails scratching small divots into the desk as he sucks the bruise deep into your skin.

You grit your teeth when you feel him release your skin, the spot already feeling sore at the rough treatment. You could tell from the position that it was too high for the uniform’s collar to hide and wearing a scarf in this summer weather was way too suspicious. That motherfucker probably planned that; you silently fume as he smirks against your perspiring flesh.

The worst part though was when all conspiring thoughts of retribution were wiped clean from you mind as your entire nervous system is struck by lightning. You cry out loudly at the sensation, to which Kenjirou huffed under his breath, muttering out a quiet ‘Thank fuck’ that went unacknowledged by you as you tried to recuperate from him hitting your G-spot with the force of a tank.

Kenjirou greedily ate up each cry leaving your lips as he continued to hit the sensitive nerves with deadly precision. The sight of you writhing underneath him was enough payment for the annoyance he’d suffered through at your hands the past month. But it was the feel of your walls clutching at him tightly and your delicious moans that was the true reward for all his patience.

The wet squelching noises of your furious fucking was enough to make you blush, which was hilarious thinking about it. Not even four weeks ago you were ready to jump the table and non-sexually choke him out with your tie – and now he was railing you with his tie as a makeshift gag.

Ah, fate truly was a bitch.

Thrusts becoming frantic, you knew that Kenjirou was nearing his end and you would swear bloody vengeance if he finished and left you high and dry. It turns that promise would be for naught. Shirabu reaches around you with his still slick covered fingers and rubs furiously at your clit, giving it a few good squeezes, rightfully assuming you loved the rough treatment. And that you did, you bucked wildly in his grasp, moans hitting a whole new pitch as you unravel quickly under his dual ministrations.

The arousal that had been sitting hot inside of you, seemed to snap and unleashed upon you an orgasm that had stars sear into your eyelids, eyes clenched tightly as the sensation threatened to drown you in it. What felt like pure electricity coursed through your veins, feeling as if Shirabu’s dick had just sent you to a new dimension, brain liquefying inside of your skull.

Behind you, Kenjirou seizes up as he feels you tighten up considerably around him, delivering him to his peak as well. His pace slows as his hips stutter, unleashing his load within you. Even completely incoherent, you shivered at the feeling of him feeling at you, not able to muster up and ounce of disgust at the feeling. That should’ve been the moment that you knew that you were truly fucked; you were completely wrapped around Shirabu’s long pretty fingers.

Limbs trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you laid there limply as he pulled out. You felt a bead of sweat drop down your brow as you weakly collect yourself together, drawing yourself up on shaky arms. The sensation of thick globules of Shirabu’s cum slipping out of you was enough of a distraction to brush of the intense stare Shirabu aimed at your leaking hole.

Leaning back, Kenjirou fights down the flush on his cheeks from watching his cum slowly dripping out of you, feeling hot under the collar from both the sight and  from the mind-blowing orgasm. Shuffling back, he cleans himself off with a clean tissue in his shirt pocket before tucking himself back into his boxer briefs and pulling up his pants.

Slumped against the table, you felt like a wreck, both inside and out. Dick rearranging your insides aside, you were happy that Shirabu deigned for you to orgasm instead of leaving you a begging mess, which was a very likely move for the bastard.

Your jaw felt sore from how full your mouth was with his tie crammed in. Pulling out the wet article, you tossed it onto the table in his general direction. Kenjirou looks at the crumpled fabric with disgust. Weirdly, he doesn't complain as he gathers some tissues from his bag to wrap the article in until he can get it cleaned.

Choosing not to question his sudden pacified attitude towards you, you pushed yourself up on weak arms. Kenjirou laughs at your struggle, not at all intimidated by your nasty glare.

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath.

You make quick work of cleaning yourself up too, feeling weirdly exposed bent over and naked from the waist down whilst a fully clothed Shirabu almost looked bored, acting as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out.

Your skirt slides back into place as you stand upright, shortly followed by more of his load trickling out of you. Pinned underneath his burning stare, you refused to give him an inch and fought back the tremble that threatened to overtake your body at the odd sensation.

“Alright, now sit down. Let’s finish this project before I leave and you have to finish fixing up the format by yourself.”

You blink at him. “Really?”

It seems the bastard wouldn’t even let you properly clean up first before diving back into the assignment.

“Really. Now get your lazy ass up, you’re creasing our data sets.”

Not willing to reveal how flustered you were, you downplay your disgust at the feeling his cum drying on your thighs and stiffly walk over to your chair, trying to spy your panties somewhere on the ground, but ultimately found nothing. You could have sworn that Shirabu smirked at your searching looks, but a second glance showed you his normal bored expression.

Sticking your nose up in the air, you start discussing your plan on how to fix the minor issue of formatting. Shirabu gave lackluster nods at your prodding, clearly wanting nothing more than to leave. You did your best to push through the sensation of the sticky mess drying between your legs, internally fretting as to where your panties may lie. You're pretty sure that you'd perish on the spot if a staff member found them.

Thankfully, it took only half an hour before Shirabu beat a hasty retreat, quickly placing all his stuff neatly into his bag and intent on walking out of the room without another word. The fucker wasn’t even going to say goodbye to you.

Shifting in your seat, you start packing up. Eyes wildly darting around, you didn’t notice him pausing in the open doorway.

Glancing over his shoulder, shooting you a dastardly smirk, Kenjirou savours your infuriated expression before turning away and walking off. Slightly confused, you squint as you try to make out an odd-looking lump in his back pocket. At the sight of familiar lace peeking out of his slacks, your eyes widen in shock and indignant rage.

“That bastard.”

Edit: I fixed an incongruity with a bit in the end scene, sorry to anyone that picked it up!!

Notes: We need more Shirabu content so here I am delivering some extremely self-indulgent content. I made Shirabu a dick but I made reader a bitch towards him and he strikes me as the type to hate stuck up people. Hope you all enjoyed!

[louiseleblancdiggory]

omg can you write more of rowan, aelin, nino and aurora? any scene is fine. it doesnt need to be in the SH plot

Ngl it took me a hot minute to understand that SH meant Safe Haven lol. I did a scene with all four of them, but it is not in the SH plot and I wrote it in like half an hour so the quality can be heavily questioned. I hope you still enjoy it though, my best friend gave the green light to post it

Hallway fights

--

“I’ll fucking kill you, Malik. Stop oogling my mom.” Nino was saying the moment they walked into the classroom. Everyone was already seated, and Mr. Whitethorn was pointing at something on the board. Immediately all the heads turned to them.

The class wasn’t too big, only ten people other than the two of them. Phedre and Evangeline were seated by the windows, two vacant seats in front of them. Marion, Mr. Salvaterre’s daughter, was seated by Killian. A few of his teammates from hockey, one girl that never bothered to talk to them— only avoid Malik—, and Josh.

The little bitch.

“Oh shit.” Malik whispered, but Nino knew everyone could still hear them. “I think we are late.”

“No?!” Nino mocked his best friend, his ears turning pink at all the attention both of them were receiving. He looked at Mr. Whitethorn apologetically. “We are so sorry, Mr. W. We thought we still had five minutes.”

“Nino is shit at math, the poor boy can’t count to save his life, that’s why.” Malik said, going to his seat by Phedre and Evangeline, both of which looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh. Nino gave Malik a slap on the back of the head, sitting down while his classmates giggled.

Mr. Whitethorn looked slightly amused, and Nino thanked the gods for his history teacher being so chill. If it had been Salvaterre he would be hanging from the ceiling by his underwear. “Do I even want to know?”

His tone left clear that it was a rhetorical question, but Malik was completely oblivious to it.

“I was telling Nino that he would be more attractive if he looked like his mom.” Nino shot him a look and Eva started laughing uncontrollably. “He’s butthurt because he knows it’s the truth.”’

Phedre flicked him on the back of the head while Eva tried to contain her laughter.

“Malik is right, you know.” Killian, one of Nino’s best friend and teammate added, a slow smile taking upon his face. His arm was around Marion’s shoulder. “Nino would be prettier if he looked like aunt Ace.”

“Can we please stop talking about my mom?” Nino grunted.

“But…” Malik started again, but was interrupted by Mr. Whitethorn.

“Yes, we will stop talking about Mr. Galathynius’s mom and focus on the class.” His voice was hard, but his face didn’t show any type of anger or annoyance. Being such a small school, Nino and his friends had had Mr. W for three years now, and would probably get him again next year. The guy was calm and his humor reminded him of his mother’s, so he instantly liked the classes. It was such a small one that Mr. W usually gave them more freedom than bigger classes would get, which was also fucking good.

Nino sent a thank you to the gods the moment Mr. W returned to the presentation, happy that the subject wasn’t on how his friends thought his mom was hot anymore.

He finally relaxed, thinking that now the day would go by without further problems.

——————————

He had gotten into a fight.

Her calm, smart son had gotten into a fight.

Aelin was more confused than angry when she received a call from the school asking her to come pick Nino up after classes were over because he had shoved another kid into a locker. Nino had been living with her for six years now, and he had never even raised his fist. For him to get into a whole fight was something so out of the blue that Aelin was extremely worried.

She took Aurora out of the car, the six year old clinging to her neck like a little monkey. Aurora was usually loud and booming with life in the privacy of their home. She had no problem talking to her family, to her brother’s much older friends or to her best and only friend Lachlan, but unknown places always made her retreat into herself.

Aelin’s heels clinked against the school’s floor. She had left work as quick as possible, picking Aurora up and going to Nino’s high school. She still wore her blue navy pants and blazer, a white button down underneath. Usually, when going to the kids’ school, she wore something more casual but she didn’t have the time to change.

When she approached the secretary’s desk, Aurora took her hand out of her mouth, saying a little hi to announce their arrival. The old woman looked up at them and Aelin smiled at her.

“I’m here for Dominique? Dominique Galathynius?” She asked the secretary, her smile becoming a little embarrassed. “He got into a fight earlier?”

“Oh! Nino.” The old woman exclaimed, a smile taking up her face. “Lovely boy, always stops by in the morning to say hello.”

Aelin smiled with no little amount of pride. Nino was one of the most polite people she had ever met, always making sure everyone got attention and was feeling comfortable. “I got a call to pick him up. Do you know where he would be?”

“I believe Mr. Whitethorn has taken the responsibility for the fight, so you could look in his history class. Room 163, go down the hall, two lefts and one right.” The secretary pointed to the hallway. “So unlike your boy to get into a fight.”

“Yeah, I know.” Aelin sighed. “I’ll go see what that was about. Thank you so much for the help.”

Aelin’s heels against the floor was the only sound until she reached the hallways that Mr. Whitethorn’s room was supposed to be. There, in front of a class, stood a small group of teenagers Aelin knew way too well considering the amount of time they spent at her house.

“Do I want to know what he did?” She asked, and all heads turned to her. A chorus of “Hi, aunt Ace” sounded, and Evangeline even stepped up to give her godmother a quick hug. Without warning, she took Aurora from Aelin’s arms, the little girl delighted to be in her cousin’s embrace.

“It wasn’t his fault, aunt Ace.” Malik said, his voice barely restrained with anger.

“Josh is a fucking scumbag.” Killian added, and Aelin knew his harsh tone wasn’t directed at her but Marion gave him a little slap on the chest anyways. He looked down at the girl and she signed say sorry with her hands. Killian smiled sheepishly at her and then at Aelin. “Sorry, auntie.”

Aelin turned to Phedre, knowing the girl was probably the only one calm enough to explain. She was completely surprised by seeing the girl shimmering with anger. “Kil is right, and so is Malik. Josh is an asshole and it wasn’t Nino’s fault.”

“It really wasn’t, aunt Ace.” Eva added, looking at Aelin even as Aurora played with her hair.

Aelin nodded. She believed her son’s friends. They had been an inseparable group for six years now, and Aelin knew each one of these kids as her own.

He had a busted lip, Marion signed, her hands moving slowly. All of her friends, Nino included, had learned how to use sign language so Marion wouldn’t feel left out. Aelin had started learning too, but she was slower than Nino or even Aurora. Just so you don’t look surprised when you get in.

“Thanks, Ma.” She nodded and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

When Aelin stepped into the room, her eyes went immediately to her son. His face had a purple bruise on the left side, making his green eyes stand out more, and his upper lip was busted. His inky black hair was a mess, but beyond that he seemed fine. Tired.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” She said, her voice soft. She turned to the teacher, staring at him a second too long before saying. “Hello, Mr. Whitethorn.”

“Ms. Galathynius. I wish we could have meet under more adequate circumstances.” He was talking and Aelin took the chance to look at him. Despite the whole situation, she couldn’t help but almost gape at how handsome her son’s history teacher was. His skin was tanned under his button down white shirt, the sleeves rolled back to reveal a tattoo that went from his left wrist and disappeared into the shirt. Mr. Whitethorn was extremely tall, and Aelin found herself needing to look up at his face even with her heels on. She eyed his toned body, broad shoulders, strong jaw and the lines that made up his face. Soft mouth, straight nose and pine green eyes looking directly at her, he looked like he belonged more on the cover of some magazine than in a history class.

“What happened?” She asked, shaking her head slightly. She had to focus on her son right now, not on his teacher.

“Your son pushed me into a locker and started punching my face.” The other boy, Josh, spoke. Where Nino had one bruise and a split lip, the other boy looked ten times worse.

She knew it wasn’t the ideal reaction, but a little smugness bloomed inside her chest.

“He was talking shit and bothering Eva.” Nino looked at his mom, his chin raising. “I won’t apologize for protecting my cousin.”

She gave him a barely perceptible nod, and his body relaxed. She turned again to Mr. Whitethorn, finding him staring at the two boys. “It’s the beginning of the hockey season and the middle of the football one. I don’t want to punish neither of you because I know it can affect your ability to participate in the games. But I hear about the two of you throwing punches on the hallways one more time and I will personally make sure that the two of you are out of the teams. Understood?”

The two boys nodded, and Aelin knew that her son wouldn’t be getting into fights anymore. At least not on school ground. Nino loved playing hockey with Malik and Killian way too much.

“The two of you are dismissed. I have called your mom already since she is traveling, Josh, and the other part of your problem will be dealt directly with Principal Blueblood. Ms. Galathynius, a word please.” He nodded at the boys as they got up to leave.

Aelin grabbed Nino’s arm as he passed by her. “Everyone is waiting outside.”

He nodded stiffly, whispering in her ear. “Am I in trouble?”

“You should be, shouldn’t you?”

He smiled, knowing his mom well enough to know what that meant. “I’m sorry you had to leave work early because of this.”

“Next time do it outside school grounds, Dominique.” She joked. “Your sister is outside. Were you planning on going home with everyone?”

“Yeah, movie marathon night. I have her seat in my car so I can take her with us while you talk to Mr. W.” Aelin nodded and Nino smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead. He turned to his teacher and grinned. “Bye, Mr. W.”

“Don’t get into trouble, Dominique.” He said, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“I never do.” He responded, leaving the room.

Aelin and Mr. Whitethorn stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“He’s a great kid.” He said, gesturing for her to sit. “I was completely shocked when I heard he had gotten into a fight.”

“You and I both. I never saw Nino being even slightly aggressive outside the ice, Mr. Whitethorn.”

“Please, call me Rowan, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Then you can call me Aelin.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, sighing before he talked again. “Josh was making rude comments about Evangeline being adopted. Teasing her endlessly, and when Nino stepped up to help his cousin, Josh turned his attention to him. Repeated things he had said to Eva and included you in the conversation. Phedre told me he was barely containing his anger when Marion stepped up and put a hand on his arm, tugging him away. It would have probably ended at that if Josh hadn’t made fun of Marion for being mute. That’s when your son punched him.”

Aelin’s blood boiled and she was tempted to go punch the boy herself. She had taken Nino and Aurora in when she was still in college, barely twenty at the time. With her parents’ help along with Lys— who was Eva’s guardian since she was eighteen— and Aedion’s, she managed to raise Nino and Aurora. They were her kids as much as they would have been if she was their biological mom. She had always feared they would hear uncomfortable comments about it, but never thought it would be bad to the point that her calm boy would beat one of his classmates to a pulp.

Aelin also half wished she could see Lorcan punching the kid.

“Will I seem like a bad mom if I smile at the fact my son punched a boy to a pulp?” She genuinely asked, looking at Rowan.

His smile was warm, eyes glinting with humor. “No, but I’m a teacher so don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Aelin’s laughed was loud and bright.

——————————

Nino and his friends were watching his mom talk to Mr. W. They were going home, but Eva was curious to know if their teacher was pissed, so she looked through the little glass rectangle on the door. Then Malik and Phedre. Then Killian pulled Marion along and Nino had no option but follow, Aurora asleep while he held her in piggy back.

They watched Mr. W talking to her, his face relaxed. Watched as his mom answered. Watched in absolute confusion as he smiled at Nino’s mom and she threw her head back, laughing.

“Bro.” Malik said, sounding as if he had found the Holy Grail while he watched Aelin and Rowan talking and smiling. “I have a fucking idea.”

Tags:

@abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew 2x7

I love all the supernatural aspects of Nancy Drew but as a fan of the books first and foremost I absolutely adored this episode, finding the truth hidden in the superstitious shadows. And methinks Carson handling a divorce case could foreshadow Bess’s impending divorce? We’ll have to see.

Going to start this review off with a potentially hot take: I don’t think Odette is nefarious. Yes she’s possessing George but she’s not killing her, and when George told Nick nothing was going on Odette called her a liar. I think she’s like any other ghost and has unfinished business she wants to take care of. It’s possible the only reason she’s possessing George is because she doesn’t have anything or any place to haunt and so she latched on to a living person. Either way I don’t think she’s malevolent, I think she just wants something. But the way the show is showing Odette possession is fantastic. Leah Lewis is a power house, her entire body changes when she’s Odette, and the way the camera tilts? *chef’s kiss*

But not telling Nick about the possession is most DEFINITELY going to come back to bite her in the ass. How ironic would it be if Nick broke up with Nancy because she didn’t care enough about him, and he and George break up because she cares too much about him? It would be a wonderfully angsty parallel I’ll say that much. Nick’s line “Well are you gonna open up?” as he stands outside the closed door, and her not opening up until after he’s already gone? Foreshadowing if I ever saw it.

Once more as a book fan, Nancy’s reputation is spreading and I love it. In the books people came to her directly or through her dad all the time with mysterious goings on for her to solve, and it looks like the show is also heading down that path. I wonder what kind of updates @NancyDrewsNews puts out? Especially now that they haven’t dealt with anything supernatural in a while. Not counting the lamia since I doubt they posted about it on Twitter or whatever her site is. Someone remind me, Bess runs the account right?

Moving onwards, I think one of the plots I’m looking forward to the most this season is Carson and Ryan and Nick teaming up to take down Hudson enterprises and Nancy inevitably having to rescue them. Every time Carson and Ryan are on screen together it’s amazing, and their scene this episode was one of my favorites. It had a bit of comedy with Ryan only having 50 dollar bills and Carson just being like -_-. And Ryan isn’t even really trying to be a father figure to Nancy, he’s just trying so hard to protect her and it is so sweet. When he realized his father might figure out Ryan is onto him, his first thought isn’t for himself it’s for Nancy. My heart. And his line towards the end gave me goosebumps. “One phone call. That’s how he does it. I mean he’ll have her dying in some mysterious accident that’s how he does it. It-it-it doesn’t matter if he’s in jail or if he’s on the moon, he’ll make it happen.” CHILLS. I hope as we dive deeper into the situation around Hudson Enterprises we find out more about Ryan’s relationship with Tiffany. I mean he married her, and he was at least a little heartbroken at her funeral, he must have been in love with her at some point even if he did have an affair.

The girl trio was also on point this episode, both of them. The hotel room bit with Nancy and George and Bess really showcased the balance of their relationship so beautifully. Bess always goes for ghosts, George always goes for Occam’s Razor, and Nancy finds the truth. And the other girl trio, the college girls, were absolutely hysterical, they are my favorite minor characters thus far. Seeing Nick and Ace brought to their knees by 19 year olds? Poetic cinema. And the whole scene with Nick’s phone call? “Smells like girl trouble to me. We can help. Tell us everything.” Two of them give him opposite advice as the one in the middle just chows down on pizza and Nick stares in befuddlement. Fabulous.

Onto ships, there was sadly no Drewson content this episode and I think the vibes I was supposed to be getting are, ‘Nancy has jealous feelings over Ace flirting with another girl and doesn’t understand it’s jealousy’. Instead don’t hate me but I was getting some sparks from Ace and Amanda, like Ace and Nancy have chemistry but Ace and Amanda have chemistry. “I could type slower if you want” and “The flirting wasn’t a ruse.” “Don’t go anywhere.” Can I ship it? Trick question of course I can.

Like I said at the beginning this mystery was one of my favorite’s because it gave me all kinds of book feels, but also because it was stunninggg. And that scene at the end where a dark haired lady walked into the basement? God I fucking KNEW it was Possessed!George. And then the ending ending? Holy CRAP. Guys, Bess has a husband? Holy fuck! Judging by the accent I’m guessing he’s someone she was married to back in London, maybe her family arranged it. Maybe he’s found his way back to her to blackmail her because he wants money? Either way this is going to last more than one episode, and I’m betting Bess is going to seek help from Carson at one point. Also wouldn’t it be something if Lisbeth popped back up in this episode only to find out Bess was married the entire time they dated? Anyway.

Two quick final thoughts, I cannot believe that Carson really is completely in the dark about the whole Aglaeca/supernatural shebang, and the mention of Columbia online courses gave me PTSD. I’ll watch this week’s episode when it airs tonight and post my review sometime before 1 in the morning.

Time for Dead Lucy. I have decided she’s currently gone only because she’s haunting Everett Hudson in revenge and as soon as she’s done she will be back. I will accept no contradictions.

[twokinkybeans]

Stark On Ice Chapter 3: 7 A.M.

7 A.M.: “Seriously, another romantic song? What the fuck, Steve.”

Peter bites down his bottom lip at Tony’s snarky reply to the song reveal. It’s Monday morning, and they’re discussing their plan for the upcoming week. They’re looking at their seventh show already and from now on they’ll have to perform two choreos rather than just one. It’s safe to say that Tony is stressed. He’s tired. Tired of the intensive training for a sport he’d never done in his life. Tired of the country’s eyes on him. Of course, he’s used to being in the center of attention, but never before had his sexuality been such a hot item. Peter knows how much pressure there is on him right now, and he doesn’t really blame him for feeling on edge. However, he will not allow the man to scold their friend and coach just like that.  “Tony, come on, it’s-” “Oh,” Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Shut up.”

What?

Peter scoffs and raises from his seat. Tony’s lips part and Peter can see the regret crossing his face. He feels bad for the man, but he’s not going to let himself be treated this way. He doesn’t want to practice lifts when the man is this tense. So he grabs his bag and sighs. “Alright, then. Go home, take care of yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Wha-” He hears Tony’s dumbfounded voice behind him. Peter simply ignores it and lets out a small breath when the door falls shut behind him. He almost feels guilty about walking away without saying another word. Without giving Tony a chance to speak. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they’ll discuss it properly. 

He heads towards the rink downstairs and smiles at the familiar, comforting cold when he steps inside. It’s not like Tony is the only one who’s made sacrifices to participate in the contest. It’s been too long since Peter just… Skated. No choreo, no teaching, just flowing wherever the music takes him. Since it’s only 7 am the rink is still nearly empty. Peter sits down at one of the benches and slides his feet inside the skates. He doesn’t even bother taping his ankles the way he usually does to protect his skin. He won’t be on the ice too long anyways. He- “Hey, Pete.” Peter turns around and is surprised to see MJ standing on the ice and leaning on the edge of the rink.  “Hey hey,” he replies, forcing a smile on his lips. He enjoys seeing her, but somehow the little incident with Tony has crept under his skin. “Trouble in paradise, huh?” “Ugh, Tony’s a genuinely nice man, but he’s awfully stressed out and taking it out on Steve and me.” “So you left?” “Mh-mh.” “Cool. That’ll do him some good. Now get your ass over here and skate with me.” 

Peter smiles and gets up, letting his worries glide off his shoulders when he feels the smooth ice allowing him to slide across. This is where he belongs most. This is where he feels free. MJ grins and grabs both his hands. She too is meant for figure skating. Her grace, her passion, her- Peter frowns and tightens his grip on her hands a little. His head snaps up worriedly. Her fingers are rough and chafed. And thin. “Michelle,” he breathes quietly. The girl freezes right where she stands, and he feels the tension rising in her body. “Peter, it’s nothing I swear.” “Then how did you know what I was gonna say?”

MJ presses her lips together and pulls her hands back. She crosses her arms in an attempt to hide them. Peter takes a quick glance at her body and feels panic rising in his chest. He hadn’t been paying attention. Hadn’t seen it coming. Her thin frame is showing more bone than it usually does. He spots how she tried to use a thicker pair of leggings to cover it up, but he knows her. “It’s…” MJ sighs. She knows that he knows. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.” Her voice is small and defensive. Scared. Peter’s heart tugs at his chest and he bridges the gap between them. MJ relaxes slightly in his hold. How hadn’t he seen it earlier? “Has anyone… Said, y’ know, stuff to you?” Peter asks carefully. MJ shakes her head right away. “Not directly. It’s...” Her voice trails off, and she stares at her toe picks. “YouTube is different than national television. People have strong opinions. If they don’t like Clint, they hate me. If they love Clint, they hate me. I… My thoughts… They try to come up with a solution on how to fix that.” “Em…” “Peter, please. Don’t worry about it too much ‘kay? I’ve already told Pep. She’s getting me a referral to Dr. Banner again.”

Peter stares at her in awe and tears cloud his vision. “I am so proud of you,” he chokes out and hugs her again, more tightly this time. She’s been struggling again, but… She spoke to her coach about it. Pepper is fantastic, she’ll definitely make sure MJ gets the care she needs so much. He feels her smile against his cheek, and he sighs. It’s not the first time she’s struggled with food. It’s hard, in the ice skating world. Most skaters have… a handful of bad habits to cope with the stress of upholding their physique and nailing every performance. Peter has a bad habit of not taking good care of his blistered toes until he literally can’t walk. Sometimes, he pulls an all-nighter just to watch stupid movies on Instagram or TikTok or whatever, because the thought of laying down in the dark by himself is too much. It’s not right, but… He thinks he’s still doing reasonably well. Not aiming for the Olympics definitely helps. The thought alone has him shudder.

MJ nudges his side, and the movement has him break from his string of thought. “Wanna skate together?” MJ’s posture stills show how uncertain she feels, but her eyes light up at her mere suggestion, so Peter can’t say no. He never could. Not his skating partner and friend. “Of course, I… Did you eat this morning?” MJ presses her lips together again, but nods. “I… Yeah. I did. Not much, but enough to train. I promise.” “Good. Alright, let’s go through Watermelon Sugar?” “Ohhhh yes, I’d love that!”

Breathe me in, breathe me out, I don’t know if I could ever go without.

-

After an hour of training, Peter called for a break. In all honesty, he just didn’t want MJ to overtrain. He invited her into his little studio for a second breakfast instead. She’s seated at his kitchen table now while Peter preps their meal. “So about you and Tony-”

Her sentence is cut off by Peter’s phone vibrating on top of the kitchen counter. Incoming Call: Tony Stark. For a split second Peter debates whether he should ignore or pick up. He low-key wants to hear what Tony has to say. He taps the green button and brings the phone to his ear, sliding his other hand through his hair nervously. “Hi, Tony.” “Peter, hey.” Quiet. “Thank you for picking up.” “Yeah.” “I… I am sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Tony whispers. “Or Steve, of course.” 

Peter frowns a little, but a smile creeps onto his face. He honestly hadn’t thought that Tony Stark would apologize this soon. “Mmmh, apologies accepted, Tony. Thank you for calling me. I’m sorry too, I probably shouldn’t have left.” “Would… Would you be up for a cup of coffee later? My treat, of course.” Peter eyes MJ real quickly. The girl, who has already figured out what’s happening, waves her hand quickly. “Go!” she mouths. Peter grins. “Yeah, sure thing.” And feeling a little bold, he adds. “Only if you come to pick me up in one of your fancy cars personally.” Both MJ and Tony snort in unison.  “Deal.”

-

Peter sips his mocha latte and groans quietly when a dot of whipped cream sticks to his upper lip. He sucks his lip into his mouth and sighs contently. Only then he realizes that Tony is watching him. Peter blushes, and- 

Oh god. He blushed. He blushed. Nononono-

“I, eh,” he stutters and puts the mug down. He wants to say something but he has no clue what. He can’t shake the feeling that the way they’re hanging out now very much resembles a date.  God, especially since MJ showed him this… fanfiction thing earlier this morning. He’s heard of the phenomenon before, but never in his whole life did he think that one day people would be writing about him. MJ told him ever so seriously that she had, in fact, read some of them, and she’d been gushing about this Superhero AU where Peter is a kid with spider powers and Tony a mechanic that built a metal suit to fight off Earth’s greatest villains. As she explained the plot, Peter had to admit it did sound rather creative.  No clue why someone would give him weird insect powers, but if it works, it works, right?

It’s just that he… He never quite realized how smitten he is with Tony until MJ quoted a love scene, causing Peter to feel this stab of jealousy in his chest because fiction-Peter could have Tony, and he  couldn’t. So now, with Tony watching him like that, it seems like a slight overload of his senses. It has him paralyzed. Good or bad, he hasn’t figured out yet. Thank God it’s Tony who breaks the silence between them.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier today, Peter. I’m not sure what came over me, I… I panicked.” Tony sighs and stares at the floor. Peter’s earlier worries moving to the back of his mind. He feels they’re treading on thin ice. “Y’know Peter, my dad… He was very much against homosexuality. Always warned me. Threatened me. I know he’s not here to judge me anymore but… It feels wrong that the entirety of the US knows now… It’s- I don’t-” Tony can’t seem to find the right words and he casts his eyes down. His fingers curling around the ear of the mug a bit too tightly. His knuckles white, other hand pressed into the wooden table. Peter swallows. Carefully, he reaches out for Tony’s shaky hand. “Hey,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Tony lifts his head slowly at those words. Peter’s heartbeat picks up rapidly when he sees Tony’s longing, no- yearning stare. Could this mean… It feels far too intimate and yet not close enough where their hands are touching. Peter slowly curls his fingers to drag the tips across the back of the man’s hand. Tony clears his throat.  “I…” his voice sounds squeaky and tense. “It feels wrong that the entire US has seen how I fell in love with you, and I barely even registered it.”

Peter can’t seem to breathe anymore. He blinks. Once. Twice. Did Tony really just say that? He feels sweaty, hot all over. Flustered, confused. He opens his mouth only to shut it again and blows his cheeks up- a stupid nervous tick. Tony’s hand twitches underneath his own, and then the man tries to slide it back. “Peter, I’m so sorry, I thought maybe-” Peter grabs Tony’s hand more tightly. “ Yes. ” Peter rushes as he suddenly finds his voice again. “Tony... Yes. I feel the same way.” 

Both men stare at each other intently. Their hands painstakingly close, yet they both press into each other a bit more. Peter’s gaze drops to Tony’s slightly parted lips. Oh, how he wants to kiss him. How he wants to feel the rough stubble against his cheeks. He wants to taste the dark, bitter espresso lingering on the man’s tongue as they breathe into each other. When Peter looks up, he can see the exact same thoughts crossing Tony’s mind and he gasps. The older man groans and pulls his hand back quickly.

“We can’t. Not… Not in here, Peter.” “Too public, I get it.” “Yeah.” “I-” Peter’s voice is cut off by the sudden loud ringtone playing from Tony’s phone. The man curses under his breath and grabs it from the table. “Shit, it’s Happy. I gotta take this one,” Tony apologizes, and Peter nods. The boy leans back in his chair and licks his lips absentmindedly as he gestures for Tony to pick up. He doesn’t quite follow what Tony says to his assistant. Chauffeur. PA. Whatever Happy’s function is. All he sees is how Tony’s expression darkens and he knows it’s not a good sign. Tony rambles on and then ends the call. Peter tilts his head. “You have to go, don’t you?” Peter sees the way Tony’s expression falters and sighs when the man nods. Confirming his suspicions. “I am so so so sorry, you have no idea how badly I want to stay here, with… With you.” Tony’s voice sounds so soft and gentle, and a downhearted smile tugs on his lips. Peter wants to bridge the gap between them and kiss him anyways. Make him stay. But he knows that Tony runs a business. If it’s important, it’s important.  “Go. We have time.” “Yeah,” Tony breathes. He leans forward again and quickly squeezes Peter’s hand. “We do.” 

Peter watches how Tony grabs his jacket and gives him one last dazzling smile before hurrying out of the little cafe. Peter huffs a bewildered breath now that reality crashes down on him. He smiles into the distance as he picks up his mocha latte and chuckles to himself when he realizes he’s counting down the hours until tomorrow morning, 7 am. That’s when they’ll see each other again in the rink. He smiles when he realizes that their song is, indeed, yet again, a romantic song.

I been tryna call I been on my own for long enough Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe

---

Masterpost Next Chapter

[sweet-little-bird-fanfic]

YOUNG K - Pure Desire

Masterlist & Chapters: Check my bio for the masterlist link.

Summary: A young writer that’s struggling with her work until she crosses paths with an intense and fated new type of inspiration; An inspiration called: YOUNG K!

Genre: Fanfic; Romance; SMUT !!! (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

Warnings: Swearing? ;

A/N: Since I haven't updated in so long, I wrote a tinny recap of what happened in the last chapter. ↓

Previously on "Pure Desire": After a long time resisting the temptation of getting lost in each other's desires, Young K and Violet finally gave up their self-control and had their first time together, in a romantic candled light paradise. No more teasing or deprived touch, no more running away. They belonged to each other for that electrifying eternal moment. They were both playing with fire, and it was starting to be hard to tell if those flames were fueled with just attraction or true passion.

Chapter 7 - Hot Shower

Young K

Things had been a little chaotic lately. Since my cold was gone and I was back to work at full power, I barely had any alone time with Violet which was driving me crazy. All I could think about was her! It had been almost two weeks since our first time together and after that nothing really happened. Not because we didn’t want to, but because there was always someone home, or one of us had to work until late, or wake up early the next day and so on. Basically, life’s responsibilities and routine were getting in the way of our thing and we were living off occasional small hot kisses, hidden late cuddles, secretive glances filled with desire, and sweet texts. If it wasn’t for the texts, I would have even found it hard to talk with her. Honestly god, we were living in the same house! Why were things so difficult? I was guessing my schedule was the main problem, the members of DAY6 and I were working harder than ever and we had so many things to do that we barely had any free time, even at the weekends. But now I think there’s another factor causing this distance, I was just dying to have her in my arms again. I missed her.

But there I was, sitting on the couch in the living room because in the previous night I had almost invaded her bedroom and begged her to fuck me. The members were used to me sleeping on couches, they knew I found it more comfortable, so no one would really suspect that something was going on. The truth was that being on the same floor as she, was dangerous and because of the lack of Violet in my system, I was damn sure I would make her loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to know with all certainty she was mine, along with everyone else in the house. So, to avoid all the drama of getting caught, I took refuge downstairs.

It was 06:45 am and there was no way I would be able to go back to sleep, there was no point anyway. We had to leave the house by 8’oclock. Therefore, I slowly got up from the couch and walked upstairs to get some clothes from my shared room. When I walked in, I was surprised with the most adorable sleepy morning scene: as Jae and Sungjin were sleeping in their own bed, Dowoon and Wonpil were sharing the same one. Even though there were enough beds for all of us, they were fondly cuddling up against each other. The sound of the door closing behind me, made Dowoon tighten his arms around his precious Hyung making it almost seem like they were meant to fit together. I grabbed some clothes quietly and came closer to them, so I could take a picture to use it against them later on, I cursed at the sound of my phone’s camera but fortunately, the two cutie otters didn’t even move.

- What are you doing? – Sungjin deep sleepy voice startled me and I almost dropped my phone on their faces.

- Hey, sorry. Did I wake you up? – I asked whispering as Sungjin looked at the bed next to his and chuckled when he saw the sweet cuddle scene – Go back to sleep, you still have a few more minutes left. 

- How are you awake… – he said between a yawn – You love to sleep… – he managed to pronounce before hugging his pillow and falling back asleep. 

I left my bandmates to sleep and walked to the bathroom, I noticed Violet’s door was slightly open and an electric desire run through my body. Before I knew it, I was already heading towards her door, but I’m stopped by the quiet sound of her voice coming from the stairs behind me.

- Why did you wake me up meowing for food and then you barely ate, Clawsome? – She said as her voice got closer behind me and I was frozen at her door – Oh… hey. – she said in a sweet tone as she reached the first floor.

When I turned around to face her my heart almost exploded and jumped out of my chest. Her curls were a mess and so voluminous that I was jealous of her pillow for creating that instead of me, she was holding her cat against her chest and her cheeks were melted in a progressive darkened red shade as her eyes bounced from her door behind me and my eyes. When her deep teasing eyes travelled down to my lips, my Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily in a thirsty response for the expectant taste of her own. She leaned down and let her puffy black cat go, I leaned against the door jamb as she walked towards me and rested her hands on my chest. She kissed me softly and bit my lip, unconsciously provoking my morning wood to a new extent. Just as the clothes I was holding fell on the floor I grabbed her hips and pushed her back, so she couldn’t feel it. I thanked Clawsome for purring loud as she rubbed her cute snout against my leg and drove our attention to her, then, I used her as an excuse for my actions. 

- Sorry, that was unexpected. Clawsome startled me for a second. – I said as I picked my clothes from the floor and patted my cute feline saviour on her head.

- It’s okay. – she said biting her lip into a smile – Morning.

- Morning, gorgeous. – I said leaning only my head to kiss her – I’m going to take a shower. 

Violet nodded and waved at me smiling amused as I closed the bathroom door. I switched on the hot water and sighed as I took off my clothes. I think the mission of hiding my morning troubled friend wasn’t a big success since Violet seemed so entertained as she watched me flee to the shower. She could have a lot more fun if she joined me. “I should’ve suggested that”, I thought to myself as I got under the relaxing water and tried to calm myself down. I placed my forehead against the freezing tiles and led my hand desperately towards my erection. What the hell was wrong with me? Before, I kept pushing her around and teasing her so what was stopping me from doing it now? This girl was driving me insane, I really needed her. So, it was not only stupid but confusing that I actually run from her and ruined such a good opportunity to feel how good we are together. My breath started to become heavier than my heartbeat was as I stroked my dick up and down, wishing to relieve the pumping lust and despair locked at the end of my loins.  

Suddenly, when I was close to free the imprisoned pleasure within, my body shifted when I felt a pair of tinny cold hands slid up my torso as I felt nipples rub against my back and boobs squeezed against my back.

- Violet… - I groaned.

She hugged me tightly from behind. I held my breath with the thrilling feeling her hand sent down my skin as she gradually let her hands travel towards my twitching member. Fighting against my own will, I grabbed her wrists up and pushed her against the cold wet tiles of the shower with a bit too much force. When I met her eyes, I became even more aroused, they were filled with a deep need and a burning desire. She missed me too. I sighed and rested my forehead against hers, letting her hands run through my wet hair. She could be doing something lewd, but her blushed cheeks didn’t lie, she was nervous and embarrassed. Yet, she built enough courage to meet me in the shower. 

Violet looked amazingly beautiful under the running hot water and I was even jealous of the drops that caressed her smooth skin. I couldn’t take it any longer, I had been far too long away from her. All that time, I thought that I was the one pushing her boundaries and teasing her, but she was the brave one and who made me go crazy as I, without noticing, grew fonder of her. 

I held her face in my hands and kissed her roughly and as deep as possible, satiating my hunger. My hand slid down on her body to squeeze her ass and made her moan into my mouth as my dick slid between her legs, making her jolt and part away from my lips.

- Wait, we don’t have time to go all the way. – she said trying to convince herself. 

- It’s okay, princess. – I said kissing her tenderly – This is good enough. Should we take a shower? Since we’re here. – I asked moving my head, so the water fell directly to her face. 

- But … – she tried to say as she rubbed the water from her eyes – We have enough time to take care of you. – she suggested in a whisper as she avoided my eyes.

My heart started to beat really fast as I stared at her, I didn’t even know what to think or how to decipher what she meant by those words exactly but luckily enough the lust burning inside me guided the way. I grabbed her chin up and made her face me before kissing her insecure lips, feeling her squeeze her legs tightly together as her reaction made me smirk between our kiss. I placed my hands against the wall cornering her as I explored her neck and bit her ear lobe.

- Then hurry up and take care of me, princess… - I groaned into her ear and felt her shiver under my touch.

Violet teased my chest with her soft touch as she drew circles with her finger on my skin, whereas I stood petrified with the sensations she created within me, I was mesmerized and drowning in the feeling that burst from my heart that made me vulnerable and marked me as hers. Her hands went lower provoking my dick to flinch as it hardened more with the expectation of her direct touch. Violet’s hand travelled down to my length and I leaned against her shoulders as I supported myself with my hands on the slippery tiles behind her, I remembered very well when she jerked me off in her bedroom. It wasn’t as good as having real sex with her, but I couldn’t ask for more than her talented hands on my thick member at that moment. And after having those thoughts, I suddenly lost all my logic and sense when I felt her lips kissing down my belly as she got down on her knees. I grabbed her by her hair and made her look up which was a huge mistake, since seeing her grab my dick with her hand and suck my balls as her eyes locked with mine made me even more excited, making the frenetic sensation of finally being touched double in its intensity.

- Fuck. – I chocked instead of telling her she didn’t need to do it as I grabbed her hair and tried to unsurely stop her.

- We’ll do that later. – Violet said teasingly in a shy smile, I saw her thinking carefully about her words as she tried to decipher my expression – I miss you so much that I’m okay with just touching you. Believe me. 

I sighed and smirked in agreement with my chest filled with a fluttered wonderful feeling. I eased my grip on her hair and started playing with it. Violet licked her tender lips and then proceeded to direct her full attention to my boner. She generously played with her tongue on my tip making me tremble, she sucked on the head making my legs nearly give out.

She started taking my full length in her mouth slowly making me curse to heavens as I tried my hardest to keep my groans low, her mouth sucked me up and down sending shivers all over my body. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open as the vibrant tension within my sex was too much for me to take, I knew I wouldn’t last long so I gave up on suppressing my desires and let her sink me in pleasure as my head fell back under the running hot water. The obscene sounds her mouth made muffled under the heavy shower, but they were still loud enough to drive me insane with her erotic symphony as her head bobbed on my dick. Violet sucked me hard and deep before replacing her hot mouth with the tight grip of one of her hands so she could catch up her breath, but the wet snapping noise of her tongue leaving my cock was too lewdly stimulating and without noticing I grabbed her head firmly and shoved my whole length deep down her throat to watch her gag with the sudden invasion. I groaned so low my voice merely disappeared into a whispered cracking moan. Her eyes were vigorously shut, her cheeks were extremely red and probably not just because of the burning steam that was surrounding us. As the frenetic ecstasy teased my body and it run down to my huge member, I felt the pressure building up and threatening to explode.  

- Oh fuck… - I groaned in a low whisper as the overwhelming load of pleasure rushing through my body tormented me at the edge of releasing – That’s enou…

Violet didn’t even bother to look at me, she grabbed my hip with one hand and stroke me with the other as she kept sucking, creating that hot white colour behind my eyelids, and so, I let her take me to wherever she wanted. With an electrifying shiver and with all the blood rush heading at full force towards the end of my loins, Violet kept sucking me hard as I desperately pulled her hair back barely holding myself from thrusting into her mouth again, I felt my shaft twitch inside her mouth and uncontrollably released all the load and desire deep inside her throat making her choke deeply and let out surprised lewd moans muffled with the cum inside her mouth. 

Still struck from the massive orgasm and trembling from her heated touch, in alarm I leaned down and held her chin up. “Oh, I’m fucked.” I thought to myself watching her puffy red lips expand in a wide smile and just with that my heart begged for mercy. 

I watched Violet closely while I was trying to control my heavy breathing. The way she tasted her lips with her curious tongue made my heart violently skip and that’s when it hit me. I kneeled to look her in the eyes with the sudden realization and brushed my thumb on her lower lip. “Did she swallow…”

- Did you…? – I tried to ask but her proud flustered eyes made me nervously laugh and bury my face on her shoulder to kiss her neck, an action that’s starting to be a habit, dangerous. 

- It’s not like you gave me much choice, anyway. You were grabbing my hair so roughly. – Violet said with her voice slurred slightly – You’re delicious. – she giggled into my ear.

I grabbed her by her ass and lift her up against the shower wall abruptly, she arched her back as the cold invaded her skin and moaned with the sudden pressure of my body against hers. I kissed her passionately trying to wash my own taste off her mouth, so I could taste her captivating sweet unique flavour. 

- God, I love… – I said interrupting our kiss as I looked into her eyes and gasped at what I almost said – Your lips. – I pecked her, again, again and again trying to cover up for my words – Those damn lips.

I put her down and hugged her naked body tightly against mine, not being sure if the accelerated heart I was feeling was mine or hers. I stepped back and kissed her forehead before reaching for the shower gel and when I was about to wash her body she shoved my hand against her head.

- No way! That’s too embarrassing. My hands work just fine, I can wash myself. – Violet said as her face turned into a tomato.

- I know your hands work damn fine, don’t worry. – I said trying to approach her once again.

- Just the hair then. No touching any other parts. – she replied scream whispering, making me look down to her lower body knowing fully well what she was trying to hide between her squeezed legs.

Showering wasn’t an easy task, especially because we had to hurry up so we wouldn’t get caught. “Washing” wasn’t the right term, but “foam fight” was the most accurate expression to describe our shower. We finally stepped out of the shower and as we dried our skin a loud voice outside the bathroom door surprised us and made our hearts stopped.

- Hyung! – Dowoon said in a nervous explosive voice from outside.

- Yes, Dowoon? – I said as I covered Violet’s body with her towel and reached for my phone to check the time, it was still 07:10 am so I sighted relived – Do you need to use the bathroom, Dowoon? I’m almost done.

- Oh… oh… hmm no! No! I’ll use the other toilet downstairs Hyung. I was just… just checking if this one was free.

When I looked back, Violet was already half-dressed and ready to flee at any moment, she shoved her towels in the basket, so it would be easier to sprint out of the bathroom. I watched her closely as she dressed the rest of her clothes, couldn’t help but bite my lips and laugh while her body struggled to get inside her hoodie. Our eyes met and Violet punched my biceps for mocking her. I wrapped a towel around my hips to avoid her fake anger moves and opened the door slightly to check if there was anyone outside. I winked at her and she stole a small kiss from my lips before rushing downstairs. 

After getting dressed and finishing my skincare routine, I walked out of the bathroom and went to our shared room to see Sungjin lying on his sides posing with one of the weirdest facial expressions I have ever seen him do.

- Bro, you’re screaming “Paint me like one of your French girls”. – Jae said as he took some pictures of the incredible moment.

- Damn, you look so beautiful today. – Young K teased the leader with actual honest words.

- Oh, you’re out! My turn! – Jae and Sungjin said at the same time rushing to the toilet as they left me in the empty room.

I grabbed my things and walked downstairs, Violet was sitting on the sofa looking at some papers Kim Joon (little bro) gave her, probably some English homework, they both greeted me good morning before I headed for the kitchen. Pretending I hadn’t seen her today, yet, that was rather harder than I thought it was going to be, I could feel my grin forming and my heart threating to jump from my chest as I sat down to eat breakfast.

Masterlist & Chapters: Check my bio for the masterlist link.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the reading, Sweet Little Bird.

[dark-and-kawaii]

(1/2) Imagining both Toga & Dabi wanting me, platonically at 1st, sounds nice. Toga obsessing over being friends w/ this nice quiet girl & determined to break me out of my shell, always showing up where I am, getting clingy w/ me when I'm friendly w/ others. I'd enjoy having a close female friend & trust her when she wants to introduce me to Dabi, even tho he intimidates me. He takes advantage of that & likes to see me squirm when he corners & approaches me w/o Toga. Both having fun teasing me.

(2/2) Gradually they become possessive of my attention/maybe develop romantic feelings & kill my other friends to push me further into their arms. Eventually they snap & threaten my family if I don’t like them back (lol is that too yandere?). They like taking turns fucking me, Toga w/ a strap-on, or making me service the other when they do. Lots of dirty talk & praise. Covering my neck w/ their marks & bruising my lips w/ their endless kisses. 👌🙏

*makes a paper fan and fans my face* Well then… Not only did that escalate fast but……….  that escalated fast *continues to fan self*

(⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄

She kept showing up everywhere… so loud and obnoxious. You knew who she was and what she was apart of, but you didn’t want trouble so you never ran… After awhile though it was fine, she just wanted to get to know you. To become your friend.

“My names Himiko Toga! Nice to meet you!!!!”

Her hand was awaiting yours, “____, and I guess it’s nice to meet you too…” 

You shook her hand.

After that she clung to you everywhere, even using her quirk to follow you into school. Of course she couldn’t be there with you twenty four seven, but she damn well tried.

You had other friends besides her, but whenever you met up with them, Toga would cling to you as if there was no tomorrow.

“___ belongs to me!!! Go get a new friend!! Besides I’m cuter than you girls!”

“Toga! You can’t-“

Crashing her lips to yours she cuts you off before finally releasing your lips from her own.

“____… you know we have more fun anyway! Besides I over heard them calling you names! Let’s go” taking your hand in hers, Toga skips away with you from your other friends… and when you weren’t looking, toga turned around and gave your friends a menacing look. 

You don’t know what’s going on, but every week another friend of yours went missing… It was starting to freak you out, was it Toga? She is a villain after all… Nah, she cared about you too much to do something like that.

On your walk home from school you run into Toga, she was coming out of a dark alley… Maybe she would know what’s going on and the reasoning behind your friends missing. 

“Oh! Yeah! About that! There’s this new villain on the lose hunting down girls!!! Don’t worry!!! I won’t let the villain get to you!!!! I’ll always protect you, ____!!!” She waved one of her arms up and down… the other still hidden behind her back… So you wouldn’t see the bloodied up knife…

Eventually one day she tells you how she wants to introduce you to her other friend, Dabi… Due to trusting Toda, you followed her to the hideout so you could meet the one named Dabi.

Your first thought when meeting him is ‘Bad boy who probably smokes…’  and you hide behind Toga. Something screamed danger, but you were shit out of luck because Toga was about to leave you alone with him.

“I’ll be back!!! I gotta shower!! I stink!! Enjoy yourselves!!” Waving you off, she vanishes. 

“Toga wai-”

“Well she did say to enjoy ourselves… right?”

Standing directly in front of you, Dabi smirked down at you… “You’re pretty cute, got a name?”

You were backing up slowly, but he followed your every step till you were finally pushed up against a wall. 

“Don’t be afraid, i won’t burn you too badly babe.”

Dabi caged you in with his hands against the wall and you in between them. His face was close to yours and you could feel his hot breath on your cheek… You were squirming around, but the second you felt his moist tongue on your neck you let out a staggering moan. 

A month has gone by now since meeting, Dabi…. You thought he was okay, you would run to him each time you discovered a friend had came up dead… but honestly…. it only made your suspicion rise. It was no longer your girl friends who were vanishing, now it was your guy friends as well… You didn’t want to believe it was Toga and Dabi, but the black haired male slipped up… Turning on the news you see they are talking about a newly discovered deceased male. It was another friend of yours… However… He was burned alive… You needed to confront Dabi and Toga, now!

Heading towards the hideout you find Toga and Dabi at the bar talking, she looked happier than ever, and Dabi had that damn smirk on his face…

“I know what you two have been doing! This whole time it was you guys! Every time i ran to your arms crying… It- It was you both… Ho-How could you! They were my friends! All of them! Now i’m alone!”

Toga came to your side, she was smiling wickedly, “You aren’t alone though!!! You have Dabi and i!!! How much better could it get!!! Those people were only slowing you down anyway!!!” You went to touch your shoulder but you slapped her. 

“Don’t touch me! You betrayed me, Toga!”

It was Dabi’s turn, walking over to you he spoke, “Ya know… You’re lucky it was only your friends. We could’ve killed your entire family as well.”

Toga was silent… Her head hanging as Dabi continued to speak.

“Let’s make a deal, i’ve seen you and Toga kissing, and you and i both heard that moan come out of you the last time i had my fun with you… Stay here with us, and we won’t kill your family.”

You were in utter shock… Who did this bastard thing he was?!

You didn’t have time to respond to his offer, Toga immediately slammed you to the ground with her knife inches away from your face, “Come on, ____!!! Let’s play!!!” Stabbing the knife to the ground next to your face she attacks your neck with her lips.

Dabi’s brow arched, not because he was enjoying the scene, but because he noticed you still had your clothes on…

“The hell, hey psycho, hold on a minute. She still has her clothes on, at least let me get rid of them first…” 

Sitting up, Toga leaves a trail of saliva from your neck… “Well hurryy!!! I can’t wait!!!! I want her now!!!! OH! Wait!!! I need to get something first!!!” 

Once again you were alone with Dabi and expected the worst….

“Now then, let’s burn those clothes off.” Using his quirk, Dabi burned your clothes to ash leaving you naked before his eyes.

Smirking devilishly, Dabi roughly flipped you over so your face was pressed against the cold wood floor. Propping your ass in the air, Dabi spreads your ass with his large hands… You can feel the cool air his your exposed ass, but you keep your face hidden under your hair… You don’t want him to know you’re enjoying this treatment, not after he threatened your family, but the minute you feel Dabi licking the rim of your anus… A loud moan finds its way out of your mouth. It only causes Dabi to make haste with his plans, spitting into your spread hole, it bubbles back out as your ass clenches tight.

”Damn, so filthy.” You could practically hear the smirk in his sentence… Dabi has thought about doing this before…

Grabbing you by the hips, Dabi leans back so he his back can lay against the floor with you on top of him. You don’t know when he did it, but his dick was hard and out, all that was missing was you on top of it… Lowering your lubed up ass on his cock, Dabi takes your virgin asshole. It hurts, god does it hurt, you have to bite your lip hard to keep your screams at bay…

”Just relax babe… It’ll feel good after a minute. I promise.”

Toga now enters the room completely naked with a large, flesh colored dildo strapped to her. Your eyes widen, it must be at least ten inches long. 

Dabi has you bouncing up and down on his cock, your asshole completely breaking apart. You lean back a little over Dabi, hoping that will help ease the pain with his cock still deep in your ass, and it does. You’re finally getting used to his thick cock in your ass, but Dabi reaches over the top of your loins and grasps your thighs, pulling them apart. Keeping your thighs apart, Dabi then spreads your pussy lips wide open, wasting no time, Toga slams the strap on dildo all the way into your tight pussy. Climbing on top of you, Toga begins licking and sucking your nipples, as she thrusts her strap on deep into your pussy. 

“Oh fuck!” You finally let your screams lose, you need this! You need them! They may be villains but dammit you needed them right now!

Embracing Toga in your arms you make out and lick each other, while her large dildo fills your pussy along with Dabi’s cock in your ass. You feel full, at first you thought you were going to split, but now you feel nothing but pleasure, you didn't want this to end.  

“Damn you’re such a fucking whore, i knew that shyness was an act. There’s no way a filthy girl could be so pure.” Dabi thrust hard into your ass so he could hear you moan out his name.

“Dabi! I don’t mind sharing, but don’t call, ___ such dirty names. She’s beautiful, and i love the way her pussy get’s all wet for us.”

Together they ram themselves in and out of you! Your neck arches back tilting your head, you scream out as your first orgasm hits you like a brick wall. Your entire body shakes between Toga and Dabi.

Ramming himself harder as you cum, Dabi cums along with you, painting the inside of you anus white with his milky seed. 

You were theirs, and you were okay with that…

Even though in the end, you come back home to find the inside of your house covered with your parents blood… You were theirs, and no one else could have you…

~ Love kiwi xoxo

[imagining-supernatural]

Chapter 2: History Class

Cracks In The Dam Series – Reader’s POV

She’s a quiet engineering and physics major trying to forget the demons of her past, and he’s the campus playboy trying to turn over a new leaf. Their friendship is unlikely, but just might be forged to withstand the cracks in the dams they’ve built to protect themselves. (BuckyxReader college au)

Word Count: 1900

You know how you always seem to have that one class each semester that just makes you give up three minutes into the first day? History was that class for me. I was halfway through the semester and barely holding onto a D. Maybe if I paid attention in class instead of sketching new ideas in my notebook, I could bring that grade up, but honestly, who cares? It’s history. I just need a D to pass.

“Another exciting day learning about fifteenth century history,” someone says, plopping down in the chair next to me. The husky scent of his cologne and faint tinge of cigarette smoke gives away his identity before I even look up.

“Oh lovely. Another stimulating conversation with Bucky.”

He chuckled and leaned back in the chair. “It’s been long two days without me. I know it’s hard, doll.”

“Why don’t you go sit with your harem?” I was referring to the group of girls he usually sat with in the back of the lecture hall. “I’m sure they need your attention more than I do.”

“Probably.” No shame. Not even an ounce of shame. No embarrassment. No sense of humility. How do people find him—

Okay. Fine. He’s attractive. But how do people stand to be around him?

My watch vibrates, letting me know I have a text, and I look down at it to see that Tony texted me. Thankful for the distraction, I grab my phone out of my backpack and open the conversation.

Tony: Jarvis thinks I have a concussion and keeps wanting to call an ambulance. Tell him I’m fine.

“God, it’s like babysitting a five-year-old,” I mumble. He’s nearly twice my age, but Tony Stark is just a giant baby underneath his playboy exterior. I suppose rather than an uncle, he’s more like an annoying older brother.

“That the dude from your date on Friday?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a date.”

Canary: You designed Jarvis. He knows you better than you do. If he thinks you have a concussion, go to the damn hospital.

Canary: What did you do, btw?

“Not a date. Right. Dressed like you were? Doll, that dress you wore was probably more than my last paycheck.”

Setting my phone down, I gave all of my attention to the dark-haired man beside me. “Why so interested in my love life, Barnes? Your one-night stands getting boring?”

He leaned forward, arms crossed on his desk, and gave me a smirk with that damn twinkle in his eye. “Why so defensive, Y/L/N? Jealous that your best friend found her true love and you struck out on Friday night?”

“Oh, God, don’t remind me about Nat and Steve. They’re disgusting. Literally they’re always making out on the couch or in my kitchen or… ugh.” I’m happy for Nat, but still. Boundaries, girl!

Tony: It’s Bubba’s fault. I tweaked the thrusters and tested them out and that stupid machine didn’t spot me like he should have.

Tony: If I had a concussion, would I be able to type grammatically correct sentences? Checkmate.

“Boy trouble?” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows and I just shot him a dirty look.

“Boss trouble. Gimme a sec.” Rather than text him back, I dialed his number and waited for him to pick up. I didn’t even give him time to say hello when he answered. “Go to the damn hospital, Tony.”

“No time, Cannie. We’ve got that—”

“I will drag your stupid ass to the hospital myself. If I’m going to be on my A-Game this week, you need to be too. I need your brain. It’s the whole reason I have a job. I’m going to tell Jarvis to call that ambulance.”

“They’ll just tell me I can’t do the presentation and—”

“For fucks sake, man. I’ll do the presentation. Your brain is your best asset and no-no, don’t say anything. I regret that word choice already. You need to make sure you didn’t fuck up and ruin it.”

“Grammatically correct sentences.” He said pointedly. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll believe it when a doctor tells me that.” I hung up and immediately called the line that Tony set up for me to directly connect to Jarvis. “Jarvis, I’m overriding whatever stupid command Tony gave you and telling you to call a goddamn ambulance.”

“Miss Y/L/N, I cannot approve an override without—”

“Override code: Please and thank you.”

There was a moment of silence before Jarvis approved the code and called an ambulance. I just loved that AI. I swear, he was more human than most humans sometimes.

By the time I finished with all of that drama, Bucky was watching me with a puzzled grin on his lips. “I’ve never heard anyone talk to their boss like that.”

“You’ve never met my boss. You’d understand.”

Just as Bucky was about to say something else, the professor drew everyone’s attention to begin another boring lecture. As usual, my attention span lasted roughly thirty seconds before I was bored to tears and turned to a clean page in my notebook.

Tony said he was messing with the thrusters? I could only imagine the kind of scene that played out when he tested them. Get footage from Jarvis, I wrote in the margin of the page before starting playing around with the thruster design.

For the presentation on Friday, we would definitely have to go with the original design. There was no way I was going to trust one of Tony’s tweaks less than a week before the biggest presentation of my life. This might not be as big of a deal for him, but this was my first real presentation. If I could nail this in front of the entire board of Stark Industries, the CIA, and select individuals from the US Armed Forces, then I was set for life. I would have my choice of jobs. I could do whatever I ever imagined after graduating next year.

I just couldn’t let Tony screw this up.

But since I knew him, I knew that he was going to play around with the design until he got bored with it, so I had to keep up with him. Maybe I could even come up with some ideas he hasn’t yet. Beat the great Stark to a breakthrough. That was the dream…

My watch vibrated again and I glanced down to see the message scrolling past the screen.

Jarvis: Mr. Stark has been admitted to New York-Presbyterian Hospital. He is not happy. I will keep you updated on his whereabouts so you will be able to find him when you are finished with your classes for the day.

“Big baby,” I whispered under my breath.

Warm breath on my shoulder drew my attention to Bucky, who was leaning over to look at my notebook. “You a fashion designer or something?”

“Or something,” I muttered. He was entirely too close to me, so I shoved him lightly. “Dude, personal space.”

The rest of class went by uneventfully. Bucky kept trying to distract me and I kept squinting at my notes on the project. There was something I could do with it. Something I hadn’t thought about yet. I just knew it.

Before I knew it, class had passed and everyone was suddenly moving, shoving their notebooks and laptops into their bags. As if snapped out of a daze, I looked around.

“Well, that was a fascinating lecture, as usual,” Bucky drawled, stretching his arms back and over his head. Why guys always took up so much space was a mystery to me.

“I sure hope none of that is gonna be on the test,” I mumbled, gathering my things.

Bucky stayed by my side and, uncharacteristically, stayed quiet until we were out of the classroom. Ever since Nat, my best friend, started dating Steve, his best friend, Bucky and I found ourselves together all too often. So I knew that he rarely shut up.

“You know,” he started, and I nearly groaned. So close. So close to a full sixty seconds without speaking. That would have been a record. “I could help you out with this class.”

“You? Really?”

His brow furrowed minutely and there was a wounded expression that flashed across his eyes. It was so brief that I nearly didn’t catch it. “Hey now, just because I’m hot and sexy as hell doesn’t mean I can’t be smart too. You should know.”

That made me scoff. “Right.”

But… if Bucky really could help me out in this class… I was teetering right on the edge of failing. I really didn’t want to retake this class next semester…

“No strings?”

“What kind of strings would I attach, Y/L/N?”

We stepped out into the cool fall air and I stopped just before going down the stairs to the building. Bucky imitated me and I eyed him for a long few moments, trying to discern his true intentions. Why did he offer to help me? What did he have to gain?

“Okay,” he gave in with a hidden smile. “Fine. One string.”

“Ha! I knew it!” There was always something.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to word his stipulation. “One string: friendship. That’s it. I promise. I’ll help you, but you have to admit that we’re friends.”

That was not at all what I had been expecting. “Why?”

He huffed a small laugh and there might have actually been a spattering of blush on his cheeks. “Alright, this is going to make me sound like a complete douche, but it’s the truth. I swear.”

“Spit it out, Buck.”

“I like this,” he motioned to the space between us. “Because you’re not into me. Besides Nat, you’re the only other woman who doesn’t try to get my attention or get into my pants. It’s refreshing.”

“Poor Bucky,” I crooned. “It must be so hard to have all the women falling over themselves for you. Being the resident sex-god must just be the worst.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Douchey, right?”

I shook my head and started walking towards the library. “It’s conceited, is what it is. I can guarantee you that Nat and I are not the only women who don’t want to sleep with you. You just never notice the girls who don’t pay any attention to you.”

“You’re probably right,” he surrendered. “But about our deal, whattaya say, friend? Besides, we’re gonna spend a lot of time together anyway, with Nat and Steve dating. Might as well just accept the inevitable.”

My watch vibrated just as I started to respond and I glanced down to see a short message from Tony seconds before another text came through from Jarvis.

Tony: I hate you.

Jarvis: Mr. Stark has a mild concussion but is otherwise in excellent health. He is going back home.

Turning my attention back to Bucky, I gave him a small smile. “Let’s see how the first study session goes.”

“Tomorrow at one? Grab some lunch while we’re at it?” With a victorious grin, he started walking backwards away from me.

“I have to work all day. I can do Wednesday at one though.”

“I’ll meet you at your place with food, then. See ya later, friend!”

Watching him walk away, I wondered what the hell I’d just gotten myself into.

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[maxmundan]

I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut. I am a smart ass through and through, and many times this inability to know when to speak and when to keep quiet and who should or shouldn’t be told to their face that they are an idiot has gotten me into big trouble. In junior high school I had been regularly beat up and shoved into trash cans due to my habit of making sure every meathead there knew exactly what I thought of them and their intelligence level at all times. Later, I would decide that it was better to be feared than crushed, and I would start telling everyone that I was Hitler’s grandson. They tended to stay away from me after that. Hitler never had any children, of course, and thus was unlikely to have any grandchildren, but most of the guys at my school were in no danger of making the debate team or winning the spelling bee any time soon, if you know what I mean. Junior high school had been very hard on me, and I feel like I just ever so barely made it out with my life. I’ve learned a lot since then, and I’ve made a concerted effort to not mouth off to people I don’t know very well, or whose ability to control their temper I have been unable to gauge. Here’s the problem though. I drink. I drink a lot. I drink to excess, among other vices that I’ve cultivated, and when I drink, my control over the time delay between some insulting thought entering my brain and that same ugly thought popping out of my mouth becomes pretty nonexistent. I can say some pretty nasty things. One time I was on a blind date with this young lady named Elaine. She was the friend of a friend’s wife, who had set us up together, thinking that we were both fiercely proud of our intelligence and that, because of this, we would be perfect for each other. It was a stupid thought. I took her out to dinner at this nice Italian restaurant and we fought the whole damn time. About everything. We fought about art and science and music and movies. We couldn’t agree on a single thing. And the more I drank, the more insulting I got. I went from disagreeing with her to telling her how unbelievably moronic I thought her opinions were. I ended the date by telling her that I would rather fuck a man than her. She burst up from the table, throwing her full glass of red wine directly in my face and stormed out of the restaurant. What had gotten into me? What a terrible thing to say. Here’s the weird part, though. It wasn’t even true. I had thought she was pretty hot and, until that moment, I had been hoping we could get past our differences and I was going to get into her pants. That shit about fucking a man had just popped into my brain and out of my mouth without even a moment’s thought. The more wasted I get the greater the chance that I am going to say something that will just burn it all to the ground. This brings me to a night I spent doing way too many drugs and drinking far, far too much alcohol; a night I got lost and beaten and bloody and wet and ended up sleeping it off in the local holding cell; the night I met the inbred hick fucks. I like to party. That much has been established. I like to drink, and I like to drink to fucking excess, and if you invite me over to your house and pour me a glass of wine, or a beer, or a shot of whiskey or tequila, you are not getting me out of your house until every drop of alcohol you have has been consumed. That’s just the way it is. Don’t invite me over if you are saving your alcohol for a different, special occasion. It doesn’t even matter if you hide the alcohol from me. When you are out of the room, say going to the bathroom, or paying the pizza delivery man, I will go through all your cupboards and look under your bed and behind the old photographs in your closet to find it. I am going to have your alcohol, that’s just all there is to it. If you don’t have a lot, chances are that we are going to be taking a little trip to the store to get more. You’re going to have to pay, of course. I’ve been out of work for a while now and I can barely afford to take care of myself. You wouldn’t expect me to go without food or shelter, would you? I’m sure you don’t want me to stop feeding myself, am I right? So, you’re going to have to pay. We might very well get bored of the alcohol at some point and decide to move on to something a little more challenging and exciting, like cocaine or crystal meth. That would be fun. Don’t you think that would be fun? What about a little heroin? We could do speedballs for the rest of the night and really get fucking crazy. That would be something, wouldn’t it? Angel dust? Did someone mention angel dust? Damn, I’d sure love to do a little of that. It’s been so long. Do they still even have angel dust? Of course, it goes without saying that you’re paying for this too. I can’t afford that kind of shit. It’s expensive. We talked about this. I thought you understood. If I pay for this little bit of fun for the two of us, then I have to go without one of life’s essentials. Do you want me to be homeless or starve to death? Of course you don’t. So just pay for the coke and smack already and we can get this party started. The particular night in question, I was going to a cast party. You may have guessed already that I am an actor, due to my savoir faire and barely controlled narcissism. Yes, I’m a struggling actor. You say that like it’s a bad thing. Of course, I’m a struggling actor. I think I’ve made $10 doing it my entire life and that was when I played Twinkie the Kid at a grocery store opening for a half hour when I was 17. That’s a story for another time, though. The night of the inbred hick fucks was a cast party. I was doing a show called “The Feeling Child.” It was an amazing piece of shit, I’ll tell you that. You know “The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood? Well, this was sort of the opposite of that. It was a science fiction play about a future world where abortion was mandatory. The evil commie lefties had taken over and placed a strict limit on the number of babies people could have. They had convinced everyone that the lie of climate change was in fact true, and this new law was necessary to cut down on the out of control overpopulation that was depleting the planet’s resources. So, this evil, leftie government was forcing good, god-fearing, Christian parents to kill their fetuses. I played the leader of the anti-abortion rebellion who had been arrested protesting at one of the abortion mills and was now being tortured by the authorities for the crime of just wanting babies to live, damnit. It was written by a born-again right-winger. I guess that goes without saying. Only a born-again right-winger would write something so fucking stupid. The play was a disaster from the get go. I have no idea why I even agreed to do it in the first place. I must be a glutton for punishment. Either that or I have absolutely nothing going on in my life, and I will sign on to any piece of shit that will get me in front of an audience, where I can feel the adulation and hear the applause. Nothing else, not even the drugs, can quiet the voices in my head of crippling self-doubt and self-loathing like adulation and applause. It got even worse. The director was under no illusion that this piece of shit was going to Broadway and was afraid, I think, that the audience was going to laugh instead of cry or become outraged when they saw it, so he decided to do this thing Kabuki style. That is right, Kabuki style, which is an ancient form of Japanese theater. So, me and the rest of the cast had to perform in a very stylized physical way. We also had to hold paper cut-out masks in front of our faces the whole time. There is a scene where my tongue gets cut out because I just can’t stop talking about how fetuses were meant to live, and god would hate us for what we were doing. The director decided to symbolize this by having a red ribbon attached to my mask. When the big tongue cutting scene happened, which was the climax of the whole atrocious play, I just pulled the ribbon through the mouth of my mask and let it drop all the way to the floor. Needless to say, it was a hoot. The opening night of the play, about four or five minutes in, the audience started laughing. They started to laugh really loud. They didn’t let up. They thought the play was amazing. They thought it was a comedy. Hell, they thought it was a really terrific comedy. Now, I’m no idiot, so when the audience started to bust up laughing, I decided to go for it. I played it for laughs. I started exaggerating my movements and holding for laughter and using my comedy training for things like double takes and physical theater bits. I even did a spit take at one point, shooting water through the mouth hole of my mask. The audience loved it. They ate it the fuck up. When it came time for the curtain call, every last one of them got up on their goddamn feet and gave me a standing ovation. I shit you not. A standing ovation. It was one of the crowning achievements of my acting career to this point. I mean it was fucking amazing. It felt great. I felt like a star. Of course, the writer and director were a little pissed about the whole thing. More than a little pissed, actually. they were furious. They refused to talk to me, or even look at me, after the show. To this day, they still haven’t ever talked to me. As far as they are concerned, both of them, I am persona non grata. This was the party after the performance, though, and I was riding a pretty great high, so I was bound and determined to get wasted. I started off slow, just getting my game on, with a couple of Mango Wheat Brown Ales or some such shit, I don’t really remember. Then, a bit later, someone produced a bottle of Stolichnaya from the freezer and man, was it on. I can drink straight vodka all night. I just started pounding shots. I couple of cute girls came into the kitchen where I was and started egging me on, so I upped the pace a little and began chugging straight from the bottle. By the time I reached the bottom of it, though, the chicks were nowhere to be seen. What the hell happened to those girls? They must have disappeared when I wasn’t looking. I didn’t have long to wonder about the whereabouts of the girls before my friend Sycamore Taylor walked in holding a big blunt in his fingers and asked if I wanted to take a little toke. Well, of fucking course I wanted to take a goddamn toke. Who the hell did he think he was talking to? Sycamore was as big a stoner as me, if not worse, and he was always rolling these big, fucking bomber joints that were half weed and half tobacco. It took like ten rolling papers to make one, and goddamn they wiped you out. The one this night was a particular monster and just the first hit off it gave me cotton mouth so bad I had to get something else to drink to go with it. There was a bottle of Somrethingorother Cabernet Sauvignon sitting unopened on the counter, so I grabbed that and started rifling through the kitchen drawers to find a corkscrew. I couldn’t find anything, so I handed the bottle to Sycamore, thinking, “What the fuck is wrong with these people that they don’t have a corkscrew? Isn’t that the bare minimum if you’re going to throw a party at your house?” I was throwing open all the cabinets and even looking through the trash. There had to be some way to open this fucking bottle of wine. Sycamore was just standing there, looking at the label on the bottle, not helping me in any way, when he said, “Shit, man. Check it out. This bottle is a 1996. I don’t think we should drink this. It’s probably pretty valuable.” “Are you some kind of fucking idiot?” I asked him, snatching the bottle from his hands, “If they didn’t intend for people to drink it, they would have never brought it to a goddamn party, right?” Sycamore acquiesced and agreed that this was pretty logical thinking on my part, but we still couldn’t open the damn bottle for the life of us. I ended up just taking a big steak knife and carving my way through the cork till I could finally get my lips at the delicious wine. Fuck, that tasted good. By this time the blunt had gone out and we needed to relight that sucker and give it a good smoking. By the time I had crushed the tiny butt out on the kitchen floor with my boot, Sycamore had disappeared too, and the bottle of wine was empty. I was completely alone in the kitchen, leaning up against the refrigerator. I decide to go in search of more alcohol and lurched forward with that intent. I was a lot drunker than I had given myself credit for, though, and my legs didn’t operate in anywhere near the fashion I wanted or intended them to, and I fell flat on my face instead. I banged my chin pretty goddamn viciously on the kitchen floor so that I bit down hard on my tongue. I could taste blood in my mouth. I decided the best thing for me to was to stay down on the floor like that. I might really fuck myself up if I tried to get back on my feet. I don’t know how long I was there, but eventually someone, I don’t know who, came in and lifted me back up. I must have blacked out around this time because the next thing that I remember was sitting on the couch in another room with a glass full of whiskey in my hand, watching John Waters “Pink Flamingos” on the TV. It was the part of the movie where Divine buys the piece of meat at the butcher and shoves it up her dress between her legs as she walks. I was having black out experiences a lot these days. I would be missing hours, sometimes entire nights. The worst was when I would wake up in the back seat of my car and realize that I must have driven from some party or other to wherever it was I found myself in the morning but had no recollection of getting there. I could easily kill myself or someone else in one of these blackout experiences. At a certain point, I realized I needed to give up drinking and driving before something terrible happened. I decided to sell my car. I polished off my glass of whiskey and looked around the room. I was the only person there. Well, not the only person. There was a shirtless guy passed out on the couch next to me. Someone had drawn cartoon penises all over his chest. “That’s totally fucked up,” I remember thinking. “Where had everybody gone?” I wondered. I pushed myself gingerly off the couch and went in search of more alcohol. “There must be something here,” I thought. I wandered back through the kitchen where a whole bunch of people I didn’t recognize were laughing at some story I couldn’t quite figure out. I asked them if there was any more beer, but they just ignored me. I had no idea where all my friends had gone and by this point I couldn’t even remember whose house it was that I had been partying at. I pushed a couple of guys out of the way of the refrigerator and threw open the door. There had to be some alcohol inside. There wasn’t. I started to ask the guys if they knew where to find any, but they were giving me a particularly dirty look, so I slithered out of the kitchen to continue my search. There was nothing. I looked everywhere. I found a couple of half full bottles of beer, but they had already become party ashtrays. I even tried to drink one but got a cigarette butt in my mouth that I had to spit out on the floor. What’s more, there didn’t even seem to be anybody I knew in the house anymore. I ran from room to room, but I didn’t recognize any of my friends or anybody from the cast of the show I had just done. Where did everybody go? “I guess I might as well head home,” I thought. I stumbled out the front door with the intention of walking home. I was having trouble moving in a straight line, but I figured if I really focused I would probably be able to make it. A sort of jock looking dude about a foot taller than me stopped me on my way down the driveway. “Hey man,” he said, placing his hand on my chest to slow me down, “You’re really drunk. why don’t you let me give you a ride home?” “I’m fine,” I answered, belligerently, pushing his hand out of my way. “Seriously,” he said, reaching out for me but failing to grab my shirt as I dodged his reach, “You’re going to fuck yourself up going off like that.” “Don’t worry about me,” I spit back at him over my shoulder, “I’ve done this a thousand times. I’ve walked home drunk more times than you’ve masturbated, and from the look of you that’s a whole fucking lot.” “Well, fuck you then, asshole,” I heard him shout at me as I lurched from the driveway out into the road, just narrowly stepping out of the path of a pair of headlights that was rushing on me quickly. The problem was that the guy was right. As I walked off down the street, it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was and thus, no concept of the correct direction to choose to get home. I had only the vaguest memory of getting to the party in the first place. I know I had been driven there by one of the other cast members, but I was damned if I could remember which one. I’d had a few fucking drinks, okay? How the hell was I supposed to remember boring details? I hadn’t been paying attention to the streets either. I had just been laughing and telling jokes and otherwise making a spectacle of myself.   “God-fucking-damnit,” I thought, “Why am I always such a colossal fuck up?” I figured the best thing I could do was to keep walking. If I did, maybe I would come to a place I recognized, and from there, be able to find my way home. It’s wasn’t like I just moved here yesterday. I’d lived in this town for a couple of years. I’m not some newbie, wannabe poseur who just fell off the turnip truck.  I just happened to be in a strange part that I didn’t recognize. I walked for about fifteen minutes, turning frequently, but always trying to move in the direction that I assumed the center of town might be. I’m pretty arrogant about my sense of direction. Unfortunately, I was way off. I found myself at the bottom of a cul-de-sac I had been sure was going to lead somewhere, so I marched back in the other direction and turned the opposite way from the one I thought I had come. “This has got to work,” I thought. There were only so many directions I could go. I had to find the town center sooner or later. I was wrong again. I walked about a block and a half on this street before the houses started to disappear and I began to encounter bigger and bigger plots of land. “Oh shit,” I said to myself, slapping my own face with my hand, “I’m on the fucking Bottoms. How did I get to the Bottoms?” The Bottoms were what we all called the huge stretches of farmland on the outskirts of town. I was nowhere near where I had thought I was. The Bottoms were about a twenty-minute drive from the center of town, about thirty minutes from my place. It was going to take me for-fucking-ever to walk home at this point. I briefly wondered what time it was. It must have been after 2am. The party hadn’t even started till 10:30. It occurred to me that I might be really fucked here. I’d never spent much time on the Bottoms in the couple of years I’d lived in town. I mean, why the hell would I spend a lot of time in this area? I’m not a big fan of cow shit and there wasn’t fuck all else on the goddamn Bottoms. Why would anybody with half a brain even come down to this shithole if they didn’t have to? I’m not a frat boy into drinking two shots of Jägermeister and then drunkenly pushing cows over and I don’t need to pick magic mushrooms out of fresh, wet poop. I buy my mushrooms from the dealer like a respectable drug addict. I just kept stumbling down the road. I started looking around, hoping to see a car coming that maybe I could flag down and hitch a ride home. That seemed to be the best idea, but there was nothing, not a car in sight. This wasn’t exactly New York City. If it was as late as I thought it was, every goddamn person in town might be in bed already. “Jesus fucking Christ,” I screamed at the top of my lungs, so the cows could understand my pain, “could this be a bigger disaster?” Then it started to rain. With my luck, I should have predicted it. Oh, it had been misting for a while, but all of a sudden, the skies opened up and it started to pour. The rain was pounding down on the pavement and the marshy farm land the road ran through, splashing mud all over me. Within a few minutes, the original color of the clothing I had worn was impossible to distinguish, covered as it was with a thick layer of dripping clay. “Fuck,” I thought, “these were brand new duds I picked out specifically for the party.” I started to run as fast as I could down the road, screaming at the top of my lungs as I went. I have no idea what I was screaming and was pretty certain nobody could hear me anyway. After a few minutes, I slowed to a halt, realizing that running was counterproductive. I could easily be running farther away from where I wanted to go. I stopped in my tracks. “I’ve really fucked up this time,” I thought. I had no idea how I was supposed to get out of this situation. I probably should have accepted that ride from the jock dude back at the party. The rain continued to pour. If anything, it was raining harder than it had been a few minutes ago. “I guess it’s just never going to fucking stop,” I said to myself. Then I started to laugh. I just threw my head back and let out with as big a belly laugh as I’d ever laughed in my life. “I guess I’m going to die out here,“ I thought, and as I did so, I realized that the laughter had morphed seamlessly into tears, and I was bawling like a baby. I really committed myself to self-pity at this point. I plopped my ass down in the mud at the side of the road and cried my eyes out as the rain pelted me till I could taste the mud in my mouth as it rolled down my face. “What a shitty place to die,” I thought. Then I saw the headlights.   At first, I wasn’t sure that’s what they were, as they crept slowly down the long road. My mind could have easily been playing tricks with me at this point. After a couple of minutes, though, I recognized the outline of a vehicle headed my way. I jumped to my feet and started waving my hands hysterically and shouting. I must have looked a sight, a soaking wet and mud-drenched lunatic standing in the road screaming in the middle of the night. Nobody in their right mind would pull over and let me get in their car. The most likely outcome is that they would just drive on by and leave me there with my misery. I wanted them to stop so fucking badly, though. It could be the difference between life and death for me. I found myself praying for the first time in many years, repeating a mantra to myself over and over again, “Please God, let them stop for me. Please God, let them stop for me.” The car got closer and closer to me and it did appear that they were slowing down. I could see now that it was an old Galaxy 500 in pretty bad disrepair. Even through the driving rain I could see that this was one junker of a car that really had no business being on the road at all. It certainly wasn’t one of those beautifully restored models that real car lover guys often have. It looked like it had been driven non-stop from the 50s to this moment in time without so much as a tune-up. “Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers,” I thought. To my surprise, the car pulled over to the side of the road and the driver’s side window rolled down. Inextricably, the rain seemed to double in intensity at that moment, obscuring my vision, so I couldn’t make out any details of the head or face that looked at me from the open window. “Please God, let them give me a ride home,” I prayed silently, not moving a muscle. At that moment, the face in the window spoke. “Hey buddy,” it said, “are you alright there? You don’t look like you’re doing so good.” “I’m not,” I replied. I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to get down on my knees and beg for my life, beg for him to save me, to give me a ride home. Nothing came out, however, and I just stood there in silence for a minute or two. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the driver spoke again. “Why don’t you get in the car dude? We can give you a ride home.” “I’m soaking wet and covered in mud,” I told him, taking a hesitant step towards his car. “No shit,” he replied, “I can see that. It won’t make a difference in this car. Just get your ass inside and we’ll get you home.” I couldn’t believe my luck. A minute ago, I thought I was going to die out here, alone on the road, and now my salvation was at hand. “Thank you,” I said hesitantly, as I stepped towards the car and opened the rear driver’s side door. It was dark inside, but I could make out that there was already someone in the back seat. I looked towards the front and saw that there was another person in the front as well. I still couldn’t make out their faces, just the outlines of their figures. “Three guys in here,” I thought, “I guess that’s okay.” Now, I don’t usually hitch rides and I certainly never pick up hitchhikers. I’ve heard too many of the stories and half the people around here seemed like they walked out of a Manson family look-alike contest, so the last thing on earth I’d want is to share a ride with them. I was hesitating in a limbo between getting in the car and stepping back out onto the road. I was getting a really weird feeling that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and it was leaving me very unsure as to what I should or shouldn’t do. It was then that the guy in the back seat reached out and pulled me into the car. I flopped down on the seat beside him, spraying an arc of mud across the inside of the car as I did so. “Goddamn,” the guy in the back seat said at this point, “this fucker really is covered in mud.” “That’s okay,” the driver said, turning to look at me, “Would you close the door though, dude? A lot of rain is getting in the car.” “Oh yeah,” I replied, as I pulled the car door shut, “sorry about that.” “No worries,” the driver said, “Now where we takin’ you, Mr. Mud?” “Uh, I live in t…t…town,” I stuttered, “near the corner of 5th and G.” “Alright,” he said, “then let’s get on the road.” He and the other guy both turned their faces back towards the front of the car then and the driver pulled out onto the road. I could hear the rain pounding on the roof as we started to move. If anything, it was falling even harder still. “Thank God I’m finally out of it,” I thought. “Thank you,” I said to the whole car, as I settled back into the seat, resting my head on the cushion. I was still very fucked up and drunk. You would have thought the walk and the rain might have sobered me up a bit but that was far from the case. I turned towards the guy sitting next to me in the back seat and realized that he was staring at me. I had the distinct impression he was sizing me up. I hadn’t paid much attention to the way the guys in the car had looked to this point, but I noted now that they could almost be triplets. All three were blond, white guys with short, military-cut hair and camouflage hats like hunters wear. “So, what’s your story, Mr. Mud?” the one sitting next to me said, “You look like you’ve fucked this night up one side and down the other.” “What do you mean?” I answered tentatively. As I did, I looked over at him and noticed for the first time that he was very heavily tattooed. He was wearing blue jeans and a grey t-shirt and had tattoos all down his arms and up his neck. It’s possible he even had a couple on his skull that were showing through his short blond hair a little bit. In the diffused lighting inside the car, I couldn’t really be sure. Now, I have nothing whatsoever against tattoos. I like them, in fact. I even have a couple myself. One on my right arm of my dog, Oscar, and a Chinese Symbol that means freedom on my chest that I had gotten the first time I got sober. There was one on this guy that bothered me a bit, however, just below his left ear. It was partially hidden but still unmistakable as the double lightning bolt SS symbol of the Nazi Stormtroopers. “I mean all THIS, Dude,” He said, waving his hand at me, “All this mud and water and stench and the scratches on your face. You are one fucked up dude, am I right?” “Yeah, I guess I’m a little drunk,” I said, trying my best to sound confident. I turned to look at the guy in the passenger seat, who was now turning around staring at me. He was smiling the most hideous grimace of a smile I’d ever seen and there was nothing in his eyes, no life, no warmth. He was a killer, through and through. He had the same SS Tattoo under his left ear. I swung my gaze towards the driver to see if he had one too. Mercifully he was still looking forwards, towards the road, but he had an identical SS tattoo under his ear as well. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” I thought. I live in little town in Northern California called Arcata. Arcata is the most liberal town you are ever going to find in your life. My guess is that every old hippy left on Earth has ended up here and every young hippy makes a pilgrimage to be among their own kind. It’s my kind of place, full of vegan restaurants, political action committees, and hot hippy chicks. In the end, though, Arcata is just a very tiny, progressive island in a vast sea of redneck ignorance. Some of the dumbest, ugliest motherfuckers you’ve ever seen in your life populate the surrounding towns, like McKinleyville, Garberville, and Laytonville (which I always referred to as Satanville for its hellish, frightening qualities). The most conservative people in Arcata vote Democrat every time, but in the surrounding communities there are a pretty fair share of racists, neo-Nazis, and white supremacists. It was looking like I’d fallen in with three white trash mutants from outside Arcata. Now, I’m sure you’re probably able to guess exactly how I feel about motherfucking Nazis. You are correct, sir, I cannot fucking stand them. We’ve fought long and hard to cut through the moronic racism in this country and shame the drooling, KFC swilling, KKK hood wearing redneck pigs back under the rocks they originally emerged from. What’s more, we had gone to war in Europe not so very fucking long ago to eradicate these ridiculous, sadistic scum from the face of the Earth. Not only were Nazis and white power jerk-offs amazing assholes, but they were always history’s big losers, constantly on the wrong side of both victory and history. Why any human being would want to throw their hand up in a “sieg heil” and declare yourself one of this spineless, pathetic crowd is beyond me. Yet, here I was, trapped in a car with three of them. The driver kept his eyes on the road and without turning, he said to me, “I’d say you’re more than a little drunk, wouldn’t you, friend? I’d say you’re shitfaced, you’re two sheets to the wind, you’re one toke over the line, aren’t you?” This Nazi sure knew a lot of colorful terms for being wasted. “Alright, I’m totally fucked up,” I replied, just deciding to go with it now, “Is that a crime?” The one sitting next to me busted out laughing, and slapping me on the shoulder, said, “I think it might be. What do you guys think, guys? Isn’t getting fucked up out of your mind a crime?” The guy in the passenger seat turned towards me again and in the coldest voice I’d ever heard said, “Yeah, it’s a crime. I think it’s called drunk in public. Maybe I oughta make a citizen’s arrest.” This guy was the one I really needed to watch out for. It’s possible he could jump in the  back seat and slit my throat at any second. “Ha,” I said, laughing myself to try and join in their fun somehow, holding my arms out with the wrists turned up as if I was waiting for handcuffs to be put on, “you got me dead to rights. I’m busted. Why don’t you put the cuffs on and take me to the clink?” The guy sitting next to me grabbed my arms and pulled them towards himself so that I was spun around in the back seat. His grip on my wrist was tight, and he had long, rat-like fingernails that were now digging deeply into my skin. I couldn’t tell for sure by the light in the car, but it was possible that he was drawing blood. “Hey motherfucker,” he screamed at me, moving so his face was so close to mine that I could see the spittle from his pasty lips spraying off him at my mouth and eyes, “Do we look like cops to you?” “Uh…,” was all I could say in response as he continued to hold my arms tight. The one in the passenger seat reached back to grab me now too, leaning way over the back of his seat to wrap his arm around my neck and put me in a headlock. “Well?” the passenger seat guy screamed, “Do we look like cops to you, motherfucker?” “N…n…no,” I answered, trying to wriggle out of their grasp, “you guys do not look like cops.” Apparently, that was the right thing to say, as they both released me now and settled back into their seats. I looked at my wrists and saw that the asshole next to me had, in fact, drawn blood. “How fucking long are that guy’s nails?” I thought. “You got that right,” the guy next to me said now, “We ain’t no fucking cops. Maybe you ain’t so drunk after all. You can figure that out at least.” All three were guffawing now. They thought this was the funniest comedy ever. Nazis have a pretty lousy sense of humor, it turns out. Maybe that’s why there are no Nazi comedians I can think of off the top of my head. They just kept repeating “Ain’t no fucking cops” over and over and laughing at the top of their redneck lungs. Suddenly, however, the laughter stopped dead. I looked around the car and the two who weren’t driving were both looking at me with the fiercest intensity I’d ever seen. I could practically see the steam coming off the tops of their heads from the angry fire of their stares. The one in the passenger seat leaned a little closer to me and said, in a voice that could cut through steel, “What DO we look like, Mr. Mud?” Without warning, the driver pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. He turned towards me also and asked, “Yeah, what DO we look like?” I said nothing and just looked around the car, from one impenetrable face to the next. “C’mon Mr. Mud,” the guy in the passenger seat said, “you can be honest. Tell us what we look like.” I realized later that I should have said “You look like nice guys” or “You look like cool dudes.” That would have been the safe and appropriate response.  When I get really fucked up, though, as I’ve been telling you, I get very belligerent and the time between thinking a thought and that thought spilling out of my lips becomes almost nonexistent. So, instead of saying something sensible that would help get me safely out of this situation, I opened my big, fat mouth and said, “Inbred hick fucks. You guys look like inbred hick fucks.” This was a mistake. Next thing I knew, the three of them were dragging me out of the car and out into the middle of a muddy field. I obviously do not know when to shut my big, fat, fucking mouth, because I just kept screaming “INBRED HICK FUCKS” at the top of my lungs. If I had had my senses about me I would have understood that this wasn’t going to improve my situation any. Inbred hick fucks do not like to be called inbred hick fucks. Go figure. They must have dragged me for quite some ways because this part seemed like it went on forever. “What they hell is going to happen to me?” I wondered. Were they going to kill me? Rape me? I’d fucking seen Deliverance, you know. The last thing on earth I wanted was to be made to squeal like a pig, not by these stinking scumbags.   Finally, the three of them came to a stop and threw me down hard into the spongy, muddy grass on the ground, so that my face became half submerged in muck. I tried to scream “INBRED HICK FUCKS” one more time but my mouth filled with filthy water and it was all I could do to spit it out before the beating started. The first kick hit me right in the crotch. I jerked in pain and tried to roll myself into a ball, but the kicks started coming hard and fast now, landing from all sides. My stomach, my back, my ass, my ribs. Kicks were landing all over my body and Jesus fucking Christ, it hurt. Those motherfuckers must have all been wearing steel-toed boots. They just kept kicking me and kicking me. All I could do was to put my arms in from of my face to at least protect that. “Please God,” I found myself praying, “don’t let them ruin my pretty face.” I was very worried that one good kick to my kisser would be able to knock out my teeth. I didn’t have the most attractive teeth in the world. I mean, I was usually a lot more interested in getting royally shit-faced than I was in going to the dentist or practicing proper hygiene, but I sure liked my teeth better in my mouth than lying on the ground with the mud and the cow shit. We must have been out in the middle of a field because I could hear the cows mooing over the sound of the still driving rain. The rain didn’t seem to be bothering the three assholes at all, though, or slowing them down a bit. They didn’t say a word while they did it, or even make a sound. They seemed totally focused on the business of beating the living shit out of me. Finally, the one who I think had been the driver shouted to the others, “Okay, that’s enough. We don’t want to kill this fucker.” And like that, the beating stopped. Thank God they didn’t want to kill me. It actually came as a bit of a shock. I didn’t expect Nazis with moral boundaries. I looked up at them, wiping the rain, mud and what I assumed to be blood out of my eyes. The three of them spit on me, and then the one who had been sitting next to me in the back seat kicked me one more time, square in the face and shouted, “Who’s the inbred hick fuck now, fucker?” “Well, it’s still you,” I thought, touching the bruise on my face where the toe of the boot had connected, “kicking my ass doesn’t change that.” I kept this thought to myself, though. For the time being, at least, I had learned my lesson. The three Nazis walked back to their car then and left me lying alone, sprawled on the ground in pain, soaking wet and covered in mud and blood. I tried to raise myself up to my feet, but my legs gave out and I immediately fell back in the mud. “Shit,” I thought, “those guys really fucked me up.” I forced myself painfully to my knees. I didn’t think anything was broken, but until I started to walk I couldn’t possibly be sure. I had no idea what hour of the night it was at this point. It could be four or five in the morning for all I knew. I couldn’t judge how much time had elapsed since those fucking rednecks had picked me up. I looked around, in all directions. All I could see was grass and mud and rain and cows. It occurred to me then that, the vicious beating aside, I was much worse off than I had been when the inbred hick fucks had picked me up. I had been lost to begin with, but now I didn’t even know what direction to go in to find a road. I was well and truly fucked. I plopped my ass down in the mud one more time and just started to scream at the top of my lungs. I don’t know how long I sat there screaming. It could have been five minutes. It could have been an hour. It was impossible to tell. I was bleeding from multiple spots on my face and body and there was so much pain. Every part of my body hurt. Those stupid bastards had really fucked me up. Why the hell had I insisted on telling them what I really thought? At one point during my screaming, I looked over and there was a cow just a few feet away, looking absently at me. It must have wondered what this loud, obnoxious creature was doing out in the middle of its field. The cow didn’t look particularly menacing, more quizzical than anything else, but I did catch myself wondering if there was any way I’d be able to defend myself if the cow decided to charge me. Luckily, that never happened. I didn’t want the headline in the morning to read “Unknown Actor Trampled to Death by Cow.” I just kept screaming and screaming. I wasn’t doing it for any particular purpose. It was more that I just couldn’t think of anything else to do. If I got up and started walking; if I was, in fact, able to make it to my feet at all, I ran the risk of getting myself even farther from the road and making my chance for survival worse than it already was. I screamed for what seemed an eternity. “Somebody has got to hear me,” I thought. I decided I would scream and scream until someone, anyone, eventually showed up to help. “Please just don’t be more Nazis,” I thought. I was still screaming incoherently when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned half way around to see the flashing red and blue lights of a police car. “Oh, thank God,” I thought, “I’m saved. These cops will take me home.” You might not be surprised to know that I really don’t like cops. I hate them, in fact. As a general rule, they are never there when I fucking need them, but always manage to show up when I’m speeding, or running a red light, or transporting a shitload of heroin and hashish across state lines. Cops are not my friends any more than Nazis are. On this one occasion, however, I was overjoyed to see them. I stopped screaming completely at this point. I didn’t want to look like a total idiot. I’m sure I looked bad enough without the screaming. The lights were about a hundred yards away from me. Those fuckers had really dragged me far from the road. I kept staring at the lights to see if anyone was coming towards me, but for the longest time there were just the lights, no movement at all. “What the hell was taking them so long?” I thought. Couldn’t they see I was in trouble here? Finally, I started to see two tiny figures moving towards me in the rain. I stared at them as they got closer, trying with all my might not to start screaming again. It took every bit of my will power, though. In the end, I couldn’t fight it anymore and started waving my arms and shouting, “Hey, over here. I’m hurt bad. Over here.” When the cops got close, I could see that one was a guy and one was a girl. Rather than looking like they were happy to see me, however, they both looked like they were pissed that they had to get all wet on account of me. “Okay, quiet now,” the male cop said to me when he got within a couple of yards, “You can stop screaming now.” I stopped immediately. I hadn’t realized that I had still been screaming. The two cops stopped right in front of me, looking down. I got the distinct feeling that they were observing me like they might a bug they were about to crush. They stood that way for a few moments, before the female cop said to me, “Well, what exactly is going on here?” “Yeah buddy,” the other cop added, “don’t you think it’s time you left these poor cows alone?” “What?” I replied to them, trying to get to my feet, “These fucking Nazi guys brought me out here and beat the shit out of me.” “Hey now,” the female cop said, “watch the language. Is it necessary to have such a foul mouth?” As she said this, the other cop reached out with his foot and pushed me back down into the mud. “Why don’t you just stay where you are?” he said, “You can tell your story from there.” “They beat me up,” I answered, trying to get all the story out now in one breath so that they might believe and help me, “I was walking home from a party and hitched a ride from these guys with Nazi tattoos and they started giving me a hard time, so I called them inbred hick fucks, sorry but that’s what I said. I called them this name, so they pulled the car over to the side of the road and dragged me out here and beat me up. There were three of them and I tried to fight back and defend myself, but they were all attacking me at once and there was nothing I could do except try and defend my face from getting kicked.” “Wow, this guy’s really got a story to tell,” the male cop said, looking at the female cop. He then turned back to me and added, “How much have you had to drink, buddy?” “Uh…,” I answered, stunned, “what’s that got to do with anything?” “It has a whole to do with a lot of things,” the male cop responded, “There’s actually a law against public intoxication.” “Yeah, I’ve heard that somewhere before,” I said, looking from one cop to the other for some sign of compassion. I didn’t see any. I tried to find something else to say but nothing came to my lips. I was dumbfounded. I had told them the whole story of those violent Nazi scumbags and these two stupid cops actually thought that I was the criminal here. These fucking cops were proving to be as useless as all the rest. “C’mon now,” the female cop said as they both reached down to pull me up by my arms, “haven’t you bothered these poor cows enough?” “Yeah,” the other cop added, “maybe we should let them get some sleep.” Both cops started laughing then as they dragged me, tripping and stumbling, the hundred or so yards back to the police car. Every once in a while, one cop would look at the other one and repeat their hilarious joke, “Let them get some sleep.” Then the two of them would both bust out laughing. When we got back to the road and the police car, the female cop threw open the door and the guy cop tossed me unceremoniously in the back seat. “You’re going to get a little time to rest,” he said to me as he closed the door, “Don’t you dare vomit back there.” I must have passed out on the way back to the police station because I don’t remember any details about it at all. I remember being wet and filthy and uncomfortable but there is nothing else. The two cops could have laughed at me or taunted me the whole way, or they could have passed the entire ride in total silence. I have no way of knowing. I do remember arriving at the police station, because the guy cop pulled me so hard from the car that I smashed my head on the doorway as I came out. I thought cops were supposed to protect your head. Maybe that was only getting in the car, not getting out. Fuck, it hurt. I could tell I was going to have a big bump there on top of the damage that the inbred hick fucks had done to me. The two of them each held one of my arms to keep me steady as they dragged me up two flights of stairs. I was thinking the whole time about who I was going to bother when I got the one phone call they always give you. They carried me into a wide room with another cop standing behind a big counter at the end. I didn’t like the look of this one. He looked like a real asshole. In fact, he looked pretty similar to the fuckers I had been in the car with and who had beaten the shit out of me. He had blue eyes and short blond hair and that typical Nazi look of total condescension when his eyes met mine.  “Christ,” I thought, “the two who had arrested me and brought me in might be the nice ones.” Chances were that I was pretty fucked here. “What do we got here?” he said to the cops who brought me in. “Drunk in public,” the female cop said. “We found him crying and screaming in a cow field,” the guy cop added, “He needs a night in the drunk tank to sleep it off.” “Alright then,” the cop behind the counter said, “Let’s get to it then.” The two who had arrested me left me with the asshole looking cop then and disappeared back into the night. I guess they were off to arrest some other poor slob who had been beaten senseless by Nazis. The majority of the booking process that followed occurred in almost complete silence. The asshole looking cop may have said one or two words to me the entire time but that was the extent of it. He took my mugshot and my fingerprints, and I had to blow into some balloon like thing, I guess it was to measure my level of drunkenness. It was totally unnecessary. If he would have just asked I would have gladly told him how drunk I was. “Alright,” he said when we were finished with that, “I think it’s tank time for you.” “Don’t I get a phone call?” I asked him. I had been going over my options and I planned to call my friend, Satlin, who was a guy I’d known for a long time and who had been at the performance of the terrible play earlier in the evening. Damn, that seemed like a lifetime ago now. I’d been wracking my brain and Satlin was the only one I could think of who might be interested in me getting the hell out of here. It wasn’t that he cared so much about my wellbeing, but Satlin had a sick sense of humor and would want to make sure I was safe and ready to give another over-the-top performance of “The Feeling Child.” In response, however, the asshole looking cop just slapped me on the shoulder and laughed. After he had giggled and chortled his fill, he looked at me and said, “No phone call. Now, take off your clothes.” “Wh…what?” I replied to him. “I said give me your clothes,” he said to me, biting off the words right in my face, “You’re not getting in my tank wearing all that filthy, stinking shit.” “M…my clothes?” “Yes, your clothes. Go ahead now. I’ll wait.” So, I proceeded to strip naked in front of the asshole cop. He didn’t seem to be enjoying it, thank God. It wasn’t one of those things, at least. As I mentioned earlier, I naturally always think the worst of cops and It would surprise me not the tiniest little bit to find out they made a habit of raping and murdering the people they arrest. To be perfectly honest, though, it felt pretty good to take my clothes off. I had been wet and covered in mud for so long that I had kind of gotten used to it, but it was a bit of a relief to finally be rid of the clothes. When I got down to just my underwear, I thought of asking if he wanted me to continue but I knew the answer already, so I just stripped them off and threw them onto the pile of my clothes on the floor. “Okay, what now?” I said to him when I was finished, standing completely naked in front of him. “Now I say nighty-night,” He answered, taking me by the arm and leading me down a short hallway to a room with a very thick door and an extremely tiny window. I assume the window was for checking on what was inside rather than looking out. The asshole looking cop opened the door and I peered inside. There were two other guys already in there, sitting on the floor. For some reason, they had been allowed to keep their clothes. The walls and floor were all heavily padded, and other than the two guys, there was nothing in the room but a dirty toilet in one corner. “Home sweet home,” I thought. “Hey look, I got a friend for you guys,” the asshole looking cop said, then threw me roughly into the room. Luckily everything was padded because I smashed hard into one wall and slid to the ground. What was it with people throwing me around? The two guys didn’t even look at me. they were both in their own little worlds. Then the asshole looking cop slammed the door and left me alone with my new friends. I looked up from where I was now squatting uncomfortably against the wall. The excitement had roused the two other guys in the cell and they were now looking in my direction. Both of them looked like redneck guys in their mid to late 50s. They were wearing jeans, flannel shirts, and red MAGA caps, and both of them had long cracker beards, like the assholes on Duck Dynasty. They eyed me like a piece of meat. I was trying to figure out if they wanted to kill me or fuck me, or both. “Christ almighty,” I said to myself, “how many fucking rednecks does a guy have to deal with in one evening?” They were both the same evil person as far as I was concerned, so I don’t remember which of them spoke first. Maybe it was the one closest to me, maybe it was the other one. It doesn’t make any difference. One of them, however, asked me then, “So, what are you in for?” “I was arrested for being drunk in public,” I answered, feeling that I had nothing really to gain by lying about my situation at this point, and really, who gave a damn what these rejects thought of me, “but in truth I had the shit beat out of me by these three guys and I was left out in a field to die. The cops decided not to believe any of that, though. They think I did this shit to myself somehow and decided to drag me in.” The two of them sat up a little straighter against the wall, and this time I’m certain it was the one closest to me who said, “Those motherfuckers. They never fail to let the bad guys run wild in the streets and arrest the decent, law-abiding folks.” “Right?” I responded. I was pretty sure that when he said “bad guys” he meant immigrants and African Americans. I thought it best to keep that to myself for the time being, however. “What the fuck did they do with your clothes?” the other one said to me. “They told me to take them off,” I answered,” I thought they were going to give me new ones. “Those motherfuckers,” the first one said again, “Did they at least give you a motherfuckin’ phone call?” “No,” I said, feeling like I was starting to win them to my cause, “I asked for a phone call and they just laughed at me.” “Goddamnit,” the second one said, and the first one chimed in with another “motherfuckers.” “Yeah,” I told them, “It doesn’t seem right to me. Does it seem right to you?” “Hell no,” the first one said, “it does not seem motherfuckin’ right. You are owed one goddamn phone call, like everybody else.” “Those bastards are robbin’ you of your rights,” the second one added. Both of these were certainly insufferable redneck racists in real life, but I sure needed someone on the me-team at this point, so anyone was welcome. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or some such nonsense, right? Never underestimate the comradery of shared whiteness. The two of them got up on their feet at this point and started pounding on the door and walls, shouting “Give this guy a phone call,” and “Everyone deserves a phone call,” and other stuff like that. I watched them in amazement for a while. I was pretty certain they had as good a chance of getting me beat up again as they did of getting me a phone call, but there was no way I was going to stop them. After a while, I got up myself and started pounding the walls and shouting with them. I was not unaware of how ridiculous I looked doing this, being naked and all, with my junk bobbing up and down every time I pounded the foam rubber wall. All this accomplished nothing, however. The cops never showed up and eventually, my two new friends gave up, sitting back down in pretty damn near their original positions and passing out. Mercifully, it wasn’t too much longer before I passed out myself. I was roused by a sharp kick in my already badly bruised and painful ribs. “Fuuuuuuuuuck,” I exclaimed, as I opened my eyes to see the asshole looking cop standing over me. He had my clothes in his hands. They were folded neatly, so maybe someone had washed them in the night. “Get up, buddy,” He said to me, “It looks like you’re in luck.” “What?” I replied, not understanding. “You’re in luck,” he said again, “It looks like somebody loves you. Now get your ass up and let’s go. I don’t have all day.” I looked around the room and my new friends were both gone. I wondered for a second what had happened to them, but then the asshole cop kicked me in the fucking ribs again, so I got myself up and followed him. He led me out of the padded cell and motioned silently to a bathroom just outside, handing me my clothes as he did so. “Why are they letting me go?” I wondered to myself, and what had the asshole looking cop meant when he said, “It looks like somebody loves you.”? I slowly got into my now clean clothes. It was difficult because of all the cuts, abrasions and bruises I had suffered from the night before. I had been hoping all that had been a bad dream. Apparently, it was all too real. I checked my poor, battered face in the mirror. “Fuck,” I thought, “Those inbred hick fucks really did a number on me.” I opened the bathroom door and the asshole looking cop was still there waiting for me. He took me by the arm and led me back to the very same room where this trip to the looney bin had begun. Satlin was sitting there, waiting for me. I should have guessed. Who else had enough riding on my continuing to breath air? He had an expression on his face that said, “What idiotic situation have you gotten yourself into this time?” It looked like he was having serious difficulty holding back a laugh. Satlin has always been fond of telling other people that they should only spend time with me if they want their entire lives turned upside down. Of course, this comes from a wealth of his personal experience. One time Satlin and I been walking together to the movies, when a car came screeching around a bend in the road and plowed us down in the intersection we were crossing. The car hit Satlin’s leg and spun him to the ground, but I jumped and and ended up on the hood, hanging onto the windshield wipers. The first thing Satlin said after the car had sped away was “This is all your fault.” I was pretty certain he was really enjoying seeing me like this. The asshole looking cop pushed me, not entirely gently, in Satlin’s direction and said, “He’s all yours. Don’t let him take you on a tour of any cow fields.” Then, he threw his head back and let loose with one last hideous guffaw. Fuck, I fucking hate cops. Almost as much as Nazis. Of course, there’s probably a lot of crossover there. On the way home, neither Satlin or I spoke a single word to each other. I wasn’t in the mood, with my head banging and pounding like someone was playing an NFL game inside of it. Satlin must have known it wasn’t a great time to give me any shit about what had happened. There’d be plenty of time to hear the whole story and to bust my chops later. When we got to my apartment, I got out of the car without saying goodbye and walked into my place. The first thing I did was to draw myself a hot bath and place my wounded body into the blissfully warm water. “What a fucking night,” I thought. I spent the rest of the day in the bath, not being able to pull myself out, wondering if I’d ever learn to keep my big fat mouth closed. The moral of the story, of course, is I should give my life to Jesus, and I should spend my days praying and imitating Norman Rockwell paintings so that shit like this doesn’t happen to me. If that’s too extreme for me to handle, then maybe I should go to an AA meeting and get a grip on my drinking problem, or at least learn how to leave a party while there are still drugs and alcohol waiting to be consumed. None of those things are going to happen, of course. The best I may achieve is to learn to keep some of my more unflattering thoughts inside my head where they belong, instead of blurting them out in people’s faces. At least around inbred hick fucks.

Max Mundan, Inbred Hick Fucks

© Max Mundan 2018

Get my new poetry collection, “Five Words That Can Cripple a Man” by clicking right  HERE!

[miss-wanderlustwriter]

The Sky (Part 1)

Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things) x Reader

1600 words

Let me know what you think, this is my first Billy fanfic!

Summary: It’s Tina’s Halloween party and you catch the eye of the new keg King in town.

Feedback, suggestions & requests all welcome ♥

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

(Of course I don’t condone the actions of Billy at all in the show, but I’m intrigued by the character and let’s face it Dacre Montgomery is hot as hell, and such an amazing actor!)

Here I was, begrudgingly at the ‘party of the year’. Tina’s annual Halloween party. I promised Nancy I’d go for moral support as Steve was in turn forcing her to go. He’d apparently mentioned something about being stupid teenagers for once after all the crap we went through last year. I know Nancy was still torn up about Barb, I mean I was and I was nowhere near as good friends with her as Nancy was. It breaks my heart.

Anyways it was your typical high school party, not really my scene, I’d much rather be at home reading and listening to music. But I made the effort, for Nancy. I was in my black rah-rah skirt, leggings, vest top and a cropped gold jacket, with my unruly blond hair left au-natural and completed with a bow headband. My attempt at being Madonna.

I was numbing all the pain away with the spiked punch as I was people watching, leaning against the wall and I could see Nancy and Steve having a dance, and a seemingly good time. It’s a shame we couldn’t convince Jonathan to come, maybe I could have had another friend to keep me company.

All of a sudden there was huge cheering and shouting from the back yard that brought me out of my trance and drawing everyone’s attention. I rolled my eyes as the new guy, Billy Hargrove, strutted through the room like he owned it. To be fair he probably had owned at least half the girls at this party, even with only being here a couple of months.

He made a beeline straight to Steve; to start a fight? Just stare him down? Who knows. But I saw Nancy leave the situation and I went to her.

“Hey Nancy! Are you okay?”

“Y/N!!!” Clearly hammered. “Yes I am fabulous, have you tried this punch?? I’m going to get more!”

Steve then appeared and stormed straight passed me to the punch bowl and a swaying Nancy. I think I’ll just leave them to it, smiling to myself.

“Oh so she can smile?!” A voice appeared a lot closer than I was expecting.

I jumped out of my skin. Turning to the body attached to the voice I came face to face with the keg King himself.

“Excuse me?!” I replied, more out of shock that he had actually acknowledged my existence.

He was leaning against the wall next to me with that bloody smirk on his face, and that bloody gorgeous body on show. Yes okay, he’s a total dick, but even I can admit he looks gorgeous in that no shirt and leather jacket combo.

He looks up at me through his eyelashes, obviously amused by my expression. “You. Smiling. I don’t think I’ve seen that before. Looks good on you.”

“Oh thank you I shall keep that noted, especially for you.” I reply, dripping with sarcasm.

He breathed out a low chuckle. “Now now Princess.”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname. “Well good chat, see you.”

“Wait, I want to talk to you pretty girl.”

“Well I don’t want to talk to you or have to listen to your god awful chat up lines that for some reason work on every other girl at our school.” I stormed off totally confused to grab more punch as I heard him shout after me “I like a girl who’s fiesty!” This night just got weird.

Eventually I found a little sanctuary away from everyone at the top of the stairs (well one set of them anyways, this house was huge) in a window seat, and I was happy to stay there until Steve and Nancy were ready to bail.

It was pitch black outside but I had always loved the sky; beautiful sunrises bringing in the new day, gorgeous sunsets closing them out, and night time where in only a certain few places of the town you could see all the stars. I could see the moon from my seat, and it took me back to being a little girl; out in the back yard with my Mom and Dad, wrapped in blankets with flasks of hot chocolate. Just gazing at the wonders, Dad teaching us about the moon cycles and trying to convince me a man lived on it. I smiled a little to myself, but then I was brought back to the somber present and reality of the increasingly frequent arguments between the two of them. I needed to talk to them, I was old enough, I could help maybe.

Unfortunately, my thoughts were rudely interrupted; Billy obviously didn’t understand when he was being turned down.

He pushed my feet out of the way to sit down next to me as I barely gave him a glace. His signature cigarette perched between his lips as he leaned forward elbows on knees and turned his head towards me. I kept my eyes on the moon and stars, but feeling his eyes on me made me restless.

“What do you want Hargrove?” I turned to face him, I had to sooner or later.

“Just enjoying the view Y/N.” The corner of his mouth turning up. So he did know who I was, again, weird. He took a long drag as he sat up and leaned back against the window, so that his eyeline was directly in mine. I raised my eyebrows at him. “Seriously?”

“Let me take you out.” His cockiness was unbelievable.

“Think I’ll pass thanks. Now you can run along onto your next target.” Not making any attempt to hide the disgust in my voice.

“Aww come on, I’m not as bad as you’re thinking right now.” He paused and I saw the devilish look in his eyes. “But, if you ask nice enough I could be.”

I scoffed, blushed and stuttered. Goddamn how does he do this.

It wasn’t that I was a prude, I just hadn’t found the guy I liked enough to sleep with yet. Yet here he was, Mr Sleep-Around himself, assuming he can get me in the back of his car just like that. Think again.

“Seriously Billy? You think you can just come up to me at a party with that pretty face, throw me a smile, and I’d be putty in your hands? You really think that low of me? Oh well you must since you’ve never even spoken to me before tonight and therefore don’t know anything about me.”

I swung my legs off the window seat to stand and he stood with me. He took a step towards me so that we were inches apart and I had to look up at him. His bright blue eyes felt like they were cutting right into me but there was no way in hell I was backing down. My heart started racing and I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, I was internally cursing myself for being this affected by him.

“What if I actually want to get to know you Princess? I can tell you’re different and I know you feel that… heat between us.”

“I am not one of your backseat sluts you can fuck and kick to the curb the next day Billy.”

He leant in right next to my ear before whispering “I know.”

Neither of us were wavering but he was right, I felt the heat and I really don’t think I could just blame the alcohol. I couldn’t tell if it was a line or if he felt it too. But I wasn’t about to be made a fool of to find out.

I put my hand on his warm, sculpted chest to push him back and made my way down stairs, away from him, shaking my head. I needed some headspace and some air, and that was when I ran straight into Jonathan with an almost passed out Nancy under his arm. All exchanges with Billy were pushed aside for the time being.

We had no idea where Steve had gone. The only words we could get out of her were ‘party’ and 'bullshit’. So I assume they had an argument, that’s the only reason Steve would leave Nancy anywhere; he loved her. But after everything that happened last year I honestly thought she was going to end up with Jonathan, I don’t know why I just felt something between them, and I can tell he still has feelings for her. It was a messy love triangle that I was staying out of, good thing too seen as though I seem to have acquired some Billy trouble of my own.

Jonathan and I were supporting Nancy on each side, he had already said he searched the whole house for Steve, finding nothing, but I couldn’t help taking one last glance around the room as we got to the front door.

I didn’t see Steve. However, standing at the bottom of the stairs casually leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching me, was Billy. We locked eyes so fiercely my breath got caught in my throat as he flashed that infamous smile. I turned away focusing on getting Nancy to Jonathan’s car and then to her bed.

We got her through the house and to her room relatively quietly, I removed her boots and Jonathan tucked her in, which I couldn’t help but admire from the doorway. He cared for her so much.

As I was lying in my own bed shortly after, all I could think about were those piercing blue eyes, that bad boy smirk and how, I think, he knew he’d gotten under my skin.

[justawriterofthings]

Those Stars?  It Was Just A Little Magic

Requested: Okay so my idea is that Mr. World and Media send Tech to recruit someone. Sort of to redeem himself from the embarrassing jail scene. Well he is sent to find a very powerful Kitsune. One that is flawless in her illusions and magic, also one that is damn near impossible to pinpoint in one location. He succeeds and finds her in a techno rave like club. She is actually the DJ there, using her powers to create amazing shows and allows her ears and tails to be shown as most think it is just part of the act. Tech would enjoy himself, watching her and smirking when he would catch her smiling at him mischievously. After the club he would approach her and offer the deal, something she has heard many times in the past months. She agrees on one condition, that she gets to have him all to herself for one evening. And if he's lucky any other time as well. I think Tech would a bit taken back but would agree and boom sexy smutty goodness with a hot technical god and a sexy fox demoness.

Warnings:  Swearing, Smutty Smut

Word Count: 3,789

Author’s Note:  I think my hand slipped a little.  This turned out to be one of my longer one-shots. Sorry about that.  I do hope you enjoy though!  

Tech was replaying the events of the previous day in his head over and over. Just a loop of embarrassment and pain. He’s better than that and sure as shit more powerful than they could ever dream of being.  He was the god of technology for fucks sake.  Technology was the world now.  But he had to mentally hit himself.  That kind of cockiness is what got him into trouble in the first place.  He had to be better than them, that included him being able to accept he made a mistake. He also had to listen to them now, and that meant he had to go find some fox lady that could help them out.  He scoffed at the idea of being their errand boy. Especially since the creature they wanted him to find was almost impossible pinpoint.  He exhausted the majority of his contacts but he finally got a lead after what felt like an eternity of searching.  In reality it could have been an hour or an entire week, he would never know though, since he had gotten lost in the waves of information.

After he got the information he wanted, it taking more persuasion than he cared for, he headed to her city.  The whole time he was just hoping he wasn’t wasting his time.    

 You walked down the crowded street of Chicago and took in the energy around you as you headed to work.  It was hard for you to tell what the night brought you, but with the club’s energy lately, you knew you were in for a treat.  You rented an apartment close to one club, so there was less of chance for you to be noticed walking back and forth.  

The kids who showed up to listen to you had come up to you after your shows and said you were as good as some guy who named himself after a rodent. Apparently the rodent was famous so you took it as a compliment.  These were the kids who practically worshiped you after all, so you showed a lot of gratitude towards them.  They kept you going, and you always gave back to them.  You kept an eye on the more troubled ones, helped them when the needed you most; and they remembered your kindness and kept coming back to your shows.

But the kids talked.  Your shows were getting more crowded as the weeks went on.  Your low profile was getting compromised and that’s when you decided you needed to hop from club to club.  To make things harder for the people looking for you, you never openly said which club you were playing at.  Tonight you would be at the one closest to your apartment.  Just because you were tired.  

When you walked in though, all of your tiredness faded and was replaced with the electric energy in the air.  Something was different.  The lights were brighter, the air around you was thick with excitement, and you could feel eyes on you as soon as you walked in.  Your world was changing before your eyes.  You had to adapt.  You took in a deep breath when you saw the owner was walking up to you.  

“Chad, good to see you.”  You greeted him with a smile, though you closed your body off from him and crossed your arms across your chest.  Your weight shifted to one leg.  

“Y/N, nice to see you too.  Thought you’d be at Titan tonight, what with your usual flip flop.  You don’t normally play the same place twice in one week.” He was surprised to see you, though he tried desperately to not seem put out at your sudden appearance.  

“It’s called flip flopping for a reason, Chad.  You know I’d prefer to play one place, but given recent events, it isn’t an option anymore.”  You responded, your grin never faltering, even though he managed to make your skin crawl. In the thousand years you’ve walked this earth only a handful of people had managed to make you feel this uneasy. Chad ushered you to the back, where you normally got ready for your shows.  Tonight he was touchier than he had been in the past.  He hand was placed at the small of your back as the two of you walked to the small room.  With the flick of your wrist though, his arms was thrown away from you with a loud crack. You turned to face him with mock horror. “What happened?”  You asked the man who was now doubled over in pain holding his arm.  When he looked up at you, you could see the faint glistening of tears in his eyes.

“I-I- I don’t kn-know.  I’m s-s-sorry.”  He managed to get the words out, though you could see it took a lot for him to do so.

“Maybe you should go get that check, make sure nothing’s broken.”  You tried to sound as sincere as possible. You knew you could do better, but he seemed to buy it.  Still holding his arm, Chad left you alone to prepare for your show.      

 Tech stood outside the small club with a scowl on his face.  His source told him that the creature would be here tonight, but they weren’t sure when.  He had better things to do than sit in a cruddy techno club all day and wait for someone who might not even show up.  “I’m so much better than this.”  He sighed, but walked in anyway.  He had to redeem himself.  He had to show Media and Mr. World he was better than what they thought of him.  He could admit he had a large ego, but that wasn’t his fault.  He was the god of what drove people today, his large ego was inevitable.  

He walked in and, if it was possible, the scowl on his face would have grown.  It looked like it had on the outside, run down and overused.  The few people inside looked as young as he did, some of them even younger.  There were a few older looking people behind the bar, but that was it.  It was still relatively early though, so there was a chance more people would show up.  “It probably looks better in the dark.”  He commented, heading to a secluded booth to wait.  

While Tech sat there, there had been a few people who came up to his booth and offered to buy him a drink.  He wasn’t interested now.  He was working.  Any other time though, he would have at least given them a thought.  But right now he was working and they were all distractions.

It was getting late and he wanted to leave.  Just as he was half way to the door though, the atmosphere changed around him. Slowly the lights switched so the room was darker and had a golden glow.  The people around him started to crowd towards the front of the room, but the sense in the air was almost calm.  Tech made his way back to his seat, he would be out of the crowd there, but he still had a perfect view of the make shift stage.  There was a bass that started to move the club; the lights soon pulsed along with the beat slowly shifting from the calming gold to various other colors as well.  Now he actually believed he was in a techno rave club.  The cruddiness from before, barely noticeable now, in the pulsing technicolor lights.  

 You appeared on stage just as the beat dropped.  Your audience though you had come up from the floor, but that was because they didn’t know better.  Your ears and tail were out, but that was your signature.  They all thought it was a costume.  As the lights pulsed your golden fur almost shimmered.  You let the music play on, occasionally adding slight changes to the mix.  You were just starting your show after all.  As you looked into your audience, a young man who had been sitting in the back, though he had picked a spot that was directly in front of your sight line, was smirking at you.  You immediately had the gut feeling he wasn’t a mortal, and he wasn’t here for the show. But he was a cute one so you decided to work your magic on him.  You locked eyes with him, not being able to help but returning his smirk with a devilish grin of your own.  It was then when you locked eyes you knew what he was here for.  Even the gods had a way with showing their emotions behind the eyes.  

Your music moved through them.  Touched their souls and they begged for more.  With every beat their hearts matched the rhythm you set and then they were yours.  You could feel their energy flowing though you.  Their love and adoration is what allowed you to perform so well.  With every flick of your tail, every twitch of your ears, new sights fell before them that made them want you more.  You dimmed the lights with the twist of your tail; the golden glow flooded the dance floor.  Then you faded into the next song, it was a slower number you picked out to really let your light show stand out.  With one of your hands raised, you flicked your wrist slightly and stars started to appear on the ceiling.  You made the club seem roofless with the way you showed the night sky.  All of the kids just thought it was fancy lighting and technical effects.  The stars started to dance with the beat now.  They grew brighter as the tempo increased, and faded as it slowed down. You decided now that you had their attention on the stars you would switch the song.  You had enough practice now to know how to seamlessly change songs, your timing was perfect every time.  The beat turned more seductive and your stars took the hint.  

You looked over to the man sitting down, his smirk grew even wider as he watched you perform.  But you had a few more tricks up your sleeve to really impress him.  Your hips started to sway with the music, and it was then that you started to conjure up some figures made from pure star light.  They took their shapes among the crowd and moved with the masses.  You looked back up to see the man was no longer smirking and his mouth was slightly open.  “Perfect.” You hummed.        

All light tricks and illusions in their conscious mind, but in the moment it was magical.  The lights formed pulsing figures, moving along with the crowd.      

The rest of your show went on like that.  Similar magic with the lights, but anything more would have seemed too suspicious.

After the show you disappeared to the back room.  You were wondering where the boy had gone, since he had left before the end of your show, but that question was answered when you found him sitting in front of the mirror across from the door.  “How, may I ask, is it that you have found me?”  You questioned the man who had yet to look at you.

“I have my sources.  And you aren’t so inconspicuous these days.”  He motioned to your ears and tail and then to the room that was chanting your name for an encore.

“We all have our forms of worship.”  You shrugged, finally walking in and shutting the door behind you.  He was fully looking at you know, you could feel him trying to figure you out.  “Let me guess.  Media has sent you.  She has been trying to get me for years, you know.  These last few months she has been more of a pain in my fucking ass.  But I continue to tell her that I am doing just fine on my own.  There are ways to adapt to the advancement of mankind.  You.  What is it you do?”  You stood before him with your hands on your hips, tail swishing as you spoke.  

“I-I am Technical Boy.  You know that new thing the Internet?  I do that.” He grew more confident with every syllable.  You couldn’t help but smile and quirk up an eyebrow.  

“You do the internet?  Tech. Do you mind if I call you tech?” You didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, even though you could see him open his mouth to protest.  “You are new.  You have yet to see what life is like being a god.  Though I suppose life for you will be much different, seeing as how you must evolve and adapt daily.  I have only had to do that every few hundred years or so.  But we have that in common, Tech.  We adapt.  We find ways to get their minds to love us.  We must stay relevant or we will be forgotten.  I do agree with Media on this idea.  But I do not need her.  I will not join her fight against the old ones, for they are my people.  Tech, do you see where I’m going with this?”  You finally stopped speaking to see he was completely and utterly focused on you.  When you went silent he shook his head to almost snap himself out of his trance.

“Media has told me to offer you, this.”  With the wave of his hand you were standing in a pixilated stadium, the faceless people chanted your name and it was like you were actually standing among thousands. You blinked and faced him, the illusion disappeared and you could see the shock on his face that you had managed to make the scene disappear.  

“I’m aware of Media has to offer.  What do you have to offer?”  You asked, sauntering over to him, seeing his face immediately flush red.  

“You’re joking right?  Who do you think I am?”  He was downplaying all the emotions you could see behind his eyes and managed to only look slightly flustered and aggravated.  You could see he wasn’t used to this type of interaction and it showed.  He was either the one doing all the talking or he was with his fellow new gods.  This was something else entirely.  

“I think you’re a very powerful man, in a very powerful position.”  You flashed him a flirtatious smile and wrapped your arms around his neck.  

“What do you want from me?”  He searched your eyes for anything, but after your years of practice the only thing you let show behind them was mischief.  

“One night.  That’s all I ask from you is one night.”  You made the proposition sound so easy, the words slipped right off your tongue. Your tail was now caressing the back of his leg as you stared into his bright blue eyes.  You could feel his hesitance; it consumed him as the wheels in his head turned to sort through his options.  “I can see your power, Tech.  I can feel you’re under appreciated.  I’ll appreciate you.  Everything you do; and everything you say.  You have influence over their minds.  You have control over their lives.  I can see that.  But they, your fellow new gods, can’t.  Can they?” You asked, and while you were talking you managed to get him seated in the chair behind him and you were straddling him now.  “One night, Tech.  That’s all I ask.  Then I can help you.  I can help you show them what you’re made of.  And as I result, I suppose I’ll help your fellow gods so they can see that you are worthy of being their equal.”  You gave him a lopsided smile.  

He was looking at you and you weren’t sure what he was going to say.  But, he made no move to get you off of him so you saw that as a good sign.  “You better not be fucking with me.”  Was all he managed to say before you brought your lips down on his.  

And for a moment, as you tried to deepen the kiss, he was unresponsive. You pulled away, puzzled.  “You can have your one night.”  He finally agreed, and you held out you hand to seal the deal.  He was hesitant at first, but took you hand in his and shook.  Then he was the one who pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours.  

Tech was gentle at first, which surprised you since the energy he put off when you had first seen him was that of an arrogant man.  The arrogance, from your experience, did not make for gentle lovers.  After a few minutes, you decided you wanted more.  You wanted to see the man you made a deal with.  So you pulled away, and slipped out of your shirt, tossing it to the floor beside you.  You waited for that energy again, peering into his eyes and challenging him.  

He was staring right back, and you could see he searching for something in you as well.  What he was looking for, you had no clue.  His hands did, however, find your chest even while staring into your golden eyes.  You ground your hips down on him, you broke eye contact and instead kissed his neck.  “How did you make the stars?”  He asked, his head fell back.  

“Magic.”  You moved up and whispered in his ear.  

Tech moved his head up now.  You looked up to see him searching the room for something more comfortable than the chair the two of you were sitting on.  “My place is just down the street.”  You offered. He nodded his head and the two of you were on the front step to your apartment building in an instant.  He was surprised you managed to do that, since it was something he hadn’t seen from anyone like you before.  Not that he could say he had met anyone like you before. “This way.”  You grabbed his hand and led him inside the building.

The rest of the trip to your apartment and into your bedroom was a blur and the next thing you knew he was pushing you down on to your bed.  The pair of you had managed to strip down to nothing from the time it took you to walk in and get to the bed.  You quirked an eyebrow up and his and took your bottom lip between your teeth.   His hand made its way between your thigh, the whole time he was watching you.  At first he was unsure but it wasn’t long before his smirk matched your own.  Tech was growing more comfortable in your presence.  He watched you closely as he flicked your pearl of nerves.  He ran his finger through your folds and your back arched on the mattress.  

He slipped one digit inside you, and almost immediately after he was plunging a second one into you.  The gentleness from before was gone now.  He was cocky and aggressive.  Tech didn’t wait before he was satisfied you were ready for him.  He pulled out his fingers rather abruptly, looked to you for an okay, and when you nodded he thrust his member into you with some force. Your claws out now, dug into his back. He winced slightly, but you digging into his back only caused him to move faster.            

Tech gripped your hips and pulled you closer to him.  The two of you occasionally letting out moans of ecstasy as he moved himself deeper into you.  One of his hands moved from your hip and he started to rub the pearl of nerves between your legs, still keeping his pace.  You started to feel the pressure build up inside you.  Tech felt your body start to shake beneath him and slowed down. His fingers expertly worked your core as his member filled you up with every agonizingly slow thrust.  “Tech, fucking move.”  You growled, pushing your hips down on him.  He obliged with a grunt, though you could see he wanted to make this last longer.  

It wasn’t long before he had you quivering beneath him again.  You felt the pressure building once more.  Then you were seeing stars.  Your body tightening around him, the crashing wave of bliss making you lose control.  There were stars around the two of you now.  Tech looked around you with awe, and when you were coming down from your release he pulled out of you.  Still hazy, you managed to grip his member and work him with your hands.  Then you sat up and took him in your mouth, it was long before he was tensing up from your touch and you could feel him wanting to let go.  “Go ahead, baby.”  You had taken him out of your mouth and urged him to let go.  He did with a grunt and you could feel his hot seed on your chest.

You moved him so the two of you were lying on your backs and your head was rested on him.  “We should-“ You started but he stopped you.  

“I would like to see you again.”  You could hear the insecurity in his voice.  “If that would be okay.”  He added.

“We should.  I would love that.”  You agreed, looking up at him and seeing his face was flushed red.  “We certainly have all the time in the world.”  You smiled.  He looked down at you when you said that.  Not realizing, for a moment that you two did have a lot of time ahead of you. He had just assumed you would want the one night and then you would be done with him.  That you would be off with Media and Mr. World, and he would be back to where he started.  But now he was sure you were good on your word and you would help him.  

He saw a future with you by his side.  The two of you could be powerful together.  But he also felt content at the idea of you helping him and then leaving. You were a once in a lifetime experience.  He knew he would never meet another being like you but the thought of losing you didn’t bother him.  He just knew somehow that that’s how you were.  So he would take every day he had with you and cherish it.  Praying for another moment with you, and hoping it would be just as magical.  

“You aren’t going to be rid of me just yet, Tech.  So you can save those thoughts for distant future.”  You snickered up at him.  He looked down at you with shock.  You were in his head, and he didn’t care.  He was a completely different person with you.  Which could be a good thing, right?          

[tenroseforeverandever]

Dear Father Christmas... Chapter 13: December 24, 2028

MASTERPOST

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Rose Tyler thought she’d seen everything

Notes: Thank-you may darling betas, @rose–nebula and mrsbertucci ! You rescued me from a complete panic attack yesterday, and got me back on track. I cannot find enough ways to say how much I appreciate how you just stepped up to the plate for me, no hesitation! <3<3

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The prompt I used today was Ginger.

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2028

Dear Father Christmas,

I thought I’d seen everything. And, yeah, I know that’s technically not possible, but being married to the Doctor, and having all of space and time at my disposal, I sure have seen a lot of things: mad things; menacing things; sweet things; ravenous things; cringey things; ridiculous things; bloody evil things; and things I couldn’t dream up in my wildest fantasies. And a lot of those things seem to directly involve the Doctor! A trouble magnet, he is! Most often the trouble finds him. But sometimes… well, let’s just say, sometimes he practically invites trouble along for the ride.

What happened yesterday was one of those times. And now I can say with great confidence, I’ve seen it all. My life is complete.

So, we’re staying in our little blue house this year for Christmas, and yesterday, I was out with Mum, picking up a few last minute pressies and all the food for Christmas dinner (me and the Doctor are hosting). So after a nice lunch, I dropped Mum off at hers and came home. The kids were all out helping with the last minute preparations for the Second Annual Hand in Hand Festive Feast, so I knew me and the Doctor would have a few hours all to ourselves. We needed to wrap some gifts, but there’d be plenty of time for some impromptu recreational unwrapping activities… if you catch my drift.

I left the groceries in the car, and crept into the house, keeping my side of our bond shielded so I could surprise him. I couldn’t find him on the lower floor, so I tiptoed up the stairs. I heard a string of NOs coming from the ensuite and some rather strong expletives. I’d found him, all right.

I walked into the bedroom. I’d given up being stealthy. It didn’t sound as though the Doctor would appreciate a surprise at that moment, and when I probed our bond, his side was shielded tight. Thinking he might appreciate a hug, I approached the ensuite. The door was open a crack, but I couldn’t see beyond it. Suddenly there’s this unearthly yowl (not as unusual an occurrence as I would like, around here) and the door smashed open wide. Snowflake came flying out, screeching like a banshee (a real banshee, not the mythological creature), and rushed past me, blood all over her white coat, and leaving bloody footprints all over the floor.

Of course, I was completely shocked, and starting to freak out, if I’m being completely honest. That was a lot of blood, and I didn’t know if it was the Doctor’s or the cat’s or a bit of both. I rushed into the bathroom and stopped short just inside the door. It looked like a scene from a horror film, blood everywhere: the tub, the floor, the sink, the Doctor…

Actually, mostly the Doctor’s head…

Actually, the closer I looked, the more I began to realize it wasn’t blood at all...

The Doctor wheeled around, eyes wild and panicked. Anxiety was leaking from around the edges of his closed-off bond. He squeaked out my name in a very manly way (ahem… sarcasm fully intended).

“Please tell me you didn’t…” It was all I could say, really.

“Mum’ll have to be the word, then,” he bleated.

I closed down my side of the bond again, and made a show of narrowing my eyes at him and looking very, very angry, but inside I was in fits of barely controlled laughter. (This is a skill I‘ve had to develop over the years dealing with three adventurous, smarter-than-is-good-for-them, part-Time Lord children… and yes, also for dealing with their equally far-too-smart part-Time Lord father.) “You bought something from that two-bit swindler in the Prahmu-dit Bazaar, didn’t you? After I told you not to.” I inquired with a very deliberate arch of my brow. “I told you to see my mum about it.”

He just stammered and squeaked some more (so, yeah: guilty as charged), and muttered some drivel about never, ever letting that woman anywhere near his hair.

Now it was time to get all shouty, when my victim was good and vulnerable: “Bloody hell, Doctor! What the fuck were you thinking? Your beautiful, touchable hair! Ruined!”

“I just wanted to be ginger.” He pouted at me, with those sad eyes and petted lower lip. God, he was laying it on thick! As if such tactics would sway me… well, maybe… eventually. That lip was looking very tempting…  

“That is way beyond ginger!” I shouted some more. “That’s neon scarlet! What were you bloody thinking?”

“Gritug suggested I−”

I got really shouty at that point. A lot of nasty words to describe the disreputable merchant, and a lot more to describe the idiocy of the man standing in front of me with flaming red hair. Not to mention all the other things in the bathroom that were also (inadvertently) flaming red, including bits of the cat (who had decided it was safe to come back into the room in spite of my shouting.)

“Don’t move!” I told the Doctor. “Strip out of those clothes.”

I wiped Snowflake’s little red feet and shooed her out, then turned on the Doctor, who was obediently standing naked in front of me. I was trying really hard to ignore the fact that he was clearly very turned on by me being commanding. He always likes it when I get all authoritative, but now was not the time for that sort of distraction. I told him to get the hell into the shower. I would only know what I was dealing with once all the excess dye was washed off, but based on how intense the colour looked on what should have been dark brown hair, I wasn’t holding out much hope.

--ooOoo--

There was nothing for it. The Doctor was going to have to go see my mum. She would know what to do, but from what I could tell, the great plonker had managed to completely fry his hair. His face went completely grey when I gave him the news. I didn’t blame him. My mum would milk this incident for all it was worth. This would give her years of ribbings and snide remarks to work with, and she would be sure to spread the news far and wide, with the tale growing taller with each retelling. It took ages and a lot more shouting, but I eventually managed to get him into the car with a hoodie pulled up over his head.

As it was, it took a full half hour and two cups of tea before we managed to get Mum’s laughter under control.

“Most blokes go and buy a sports car or get a mistress or cover their greys a bit, but you, you bleedin’ clunker, you… you...” Mum’d flopped onto the sofa in convulsions again. “You look like a bleedin’ clown, you do!”

The Doctor denied up and down about having a mid-life crisis, but I could see him deflate, all the fight knocked out of him, and I stroked soothing circles onto his back. Then I got him a nice cuppa, and sat him down in a comfy armchair. I realized his body would be turning fifty next year (according to all his official documentation), and his sense of mortality must have been eating away at him.

Whether she was feeling sorry for him too, or she just figured she couldn’t get a rise out of him any more in his morose state, Mum let the Doctor finish his tea in peace, and then held out her hand to him and said, “C’mon, ya plum, let’s see what we can do about it, then.”

As she dragged him off to her hairdressing room (yes, she had a room in the mansion converted into her personal mini-salon; just a bit of nostalgia from our days on the Estate that she refused to give up) he looked back at me with those big sad eyes, and pleaded to me over our bond not to leave him, but I reassured him I’d be back. Truth be told, I still had presents to wrap, the ensuite to clean up, and scarlet cat prints to try to lift from the floors.

--ooOoo--

Throughout the couple of hours I was gone, I could feel him beaming across our bond. There had been a moment of intense disappointment early on, but that had quickly been replaced with a sense of fun and laughter that stayed with him the whole time.

When I saw him, I broke into gales of (friendly) laughter. He announced he had decided to get into the Christmas spirit. Mum had suggested he might as well go for it, and that she could make it happen. His hair was styled in the riotous spikey perfection it usually was. The only difference was the colour: it remained vibrant red, but artfully blended into it were festive swaths of dazzling green.

It was bloody hot! And I told him so over our bond ( not out loud in front of Mum) and touched the erogenous zones of his mind, reminding him we still had several hours before the kids would need to be picked up. Honestly, I couldn’t get him home and undressed fast enough, and he was right on board with that idea.

As we rushed to the car, Mum reminded him that the hair would all need to come off very soon. He had damaged it too much for it to be saved, but we decided we would just take an extended trip to Yultidia where his hair wouldn’t be considered out of place, and let it grow out a bit, so it didn’t need to be cut too short when the time came.

As we made love that afternoon, and I was running my fingers through that lovely, festive hair, that’s when I realized, of all the mental things I had seen in the multiverse, what I saw earlier that day was the icing on the cake, the coup de grace, the one thing that assured me that I had actually seen all the mental things I ever needed to see. And it turns out, it wasn’t my husband’s vibrant Christmas do; or Mum’s laugh-a-thon; or the red polka-dotted cat I could hear scrambling in the branches of the Christmas tree.

No, the most unbelievable thing I had ever seen was the Doctor allowing Jackie Tyler anywhere near his precious hair. It was an act of absolute trust. And given their rather adversarial history, it was nothing short of a Christmas miracle. I loved them both just a little bit more for adding to the madness of the wonderful adventure I call my life.

Happy Christmas, Santa! Send my love to Mrs. Claus, and the elves and reindeer too. Hope you all have a year full of mental adventures!

Love, Rose