#i said it before and i’ll say it again but if you see a guy calling another his ambrosial little snackie treat you should be

[ninuwrites]

the show|LH+WW

summary: wade just can’t leave you alone with one request so you come up with an idea

warnings: smut, voyeurism, p in v, m and f masturbation

a/n: i had this idea for a really long time and finally i did it!!! hope you enjoy, english is not my first language btw so sorry for any mistakes!! love you all💋

———————————————————————————

logan would do anything for you.

he won’t show it much, but you both know you have him wrapped around your finger.

there were only few things he wouldn’t allow.

one of them being that he’s the only one that could touch you.

he can’t stand seeing guys even looking your way. every time he just wants to claw their eyes out.

so when wade was asking AGAIN to join your bedroom activities, logans first reaction was to beat him up and stab his face over and over again.

let’s say you weren’t really against of wade joining you, you just loved logan too much and you knew all about his possessive situation.

that’s when you came up with idea where both of the men would end up somehow happy.

“he can watch us.” you blurted out when wade wouldn’t stop talking about logans “fuckingly beautiful hawaian rolls” and how he compered you to a greek goddess.

both men were just blankly starting at you. to be honest they did not expect you to respond like that, but you wanted to satisfy both of them. (and for wade to shut up)

wade just smirked and starting babbling something about that he’ll make you fall for him and you should stop pretending and be with him (he always knew how to get on logans nerves).

logan just looked at you, looking a bit shocked and pissed at the same time. you smiled at him, “it won’t be that bad baby, will just give him a show.” you said and kissed his temple.

“come ooon kitty cat, what scared i’ll steal your girl?” wade grinned and oh boy how hard it was for logan to not stab his fucking face all over again.

but how could he say no to a woman like you?

so that’s how you found yourself on your back with a skirt and a bra ( cause logan would not let wade see all of you) with logan between you legs and his tongue lapping at your slopping hole.

“oh she sounds like a heaven.” wade moaned out, spreading his legs and touching his dick through his jeans.

“eyes on me sweetheart.” logan growled, his hands gripping your hips harder than before, making you look back between your legs, his grip definitely leaving some marks.

one of his hands carefully came up your cunt while one of his fingers slowly entered your heat. after few pumps he immediately joined another finger.

you jolted from the sudden movement and pulled his hair , getting a moan from the man which got him feasting on you more aggressively.

“wolvie come on make the girl finish.” wade spoke up.

as logan was about to scream at him to shut his fucking mouth but you managed to take his face into your hands and whispered “don’t let him get you” and “you make me feel so good”

logan gave you a kiss and continued to suck on your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you adding a third one.

“lo- yes please i’m so close.” you moaned out and looked at the place wade was sitting.

his jeans were unbuttoned, shirt was off and his hand was carefully stroking his rock hard cock in the same rhythm as logan was getting you off. you looked into his eyes and moaned again.

“go on honey, let go f’ me will ya?” logan said with his movements speeding up, his thick fingers hitting the sweetest spot in your hot needing cunt.

in the same time, wades hand and breath was speeding up as your moans got louder and the feeling in your tummy got bigger.

“oh yes lo i’m c- i’m cumming!” you screamed, your eyes never leaving wade.

wade threw his head back and spilled all over his jeans and stomach.

“enjoying the show wade?” you asked still out of breath and logan licking you cunt clean.

“you’re unreal sweetie pie.” his legs twitched.

“oh that was just foreplay, here comes the best part.” you smirked and pulled logan by his shirt to face you.

between kisses, you pulled his shirt down and made him sit on the bed so you were on top of him.

you trailed wet kisses down his neck, to his chest and down to his lower tummy. logan meanwhile played with the meat of your ass and tights.

you pulled his boxers down, his cock springing out and hitting his stomach.

“you’re so beautiful lo, always make me feel so good.” you said your eyes never leaving gis as you gave his res tip kitten licks and small kisses.

logan growled and took your hair into is hands , urging you down to his cock.

“don’t tease baby.” he breathed out and you finally relaxed your jaw and took his girth inside your mouth.

“so good to me honey, love your mouth so much.” he growled and pulled your head closer, your nose almost touching his happy trail.

“you can do it baby, so pretty.” he was looking down at you, your eyes were glossy, mouth full and red lips. he could cum just by looking at you.

as he feels your nose touching his abdomen he was a goner. his legs tensed and the grip on your hair tightened.

“okay off, wanna- wanna cum in you.” he patted your head. you gave his shaft one last lick and a kiss on the tip.

“oh man, honey badger you’re one lucky motherfucker.” wade stated.

you looked at him and smirked, sending him a air-kiss. logan just grabbed your face and kissed you, “ride me sweetheart, want to feel you so bad.” logan winced.

oh how you loved seeing logan like this so needy even if he doesn’t show it. the man is down bad for you.

you kissed his jaw, his hand gripped your hips as he helped you sink down his veiny and thick girth.

“so- so big lo- fill me so good- can feel you so deep.” you mumbled out, not sure your words had some sense.

after a few moments you started moving your hips slowly, occasionally grinding on logans thick cock.

“yes baby so tight, sucking me in like a little slut.” logan said making you moan, you loved when he talked to you while his dick was buried inside you.

“my girl, my pretty pretty girl.” logan whispered his hips slamming back to yours.

you looked to the side, checking on wade that was absolutely astonished by you. his eyes couldn’t leave yours, you tried saying something but you felt too good to even form a sentence.

you tried to speed up you movements, but your legs were wearing out which logan took advantage of and slammed you on your back.

his lips never left yours as he reentered you again. your eyes rolled back and your nails dug into his back which made logan moaned.

“squeezing me like a vice bub, let go for me love. give it to me baby.” he urged, his hips slamming into yours, “look at me when you cum.” he growled.

out of nowhere, your orgasm washed over you, your legs trembling, digging the heels of your legs into logan and moaning out logans name.

you looked so beautiful that it was hard for logan to keep it together. he fucked you over your orgasm ti near overstimulation.

“almost there baby.” he spoke up, reminding that he won’t hold for long.

“yeah want my cum sweetheart? gonna fill you up so good baby, fuck a baby into you.” he groaned, his hips stuttering as he shot his load into your overstimulated cunt.

logan fell on top of you, holding up by his hands. as you both calmed down, you kissed, slow and loving after sex make out. (as always)

“oh god, it should be illegal for you to be together. like fuck it’s not fair that both of you are so hot..” wade started speaking again.

you looked over to face logan again,

“at least now we know how to shut him up.”

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

~

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

~

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. ��And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

~

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

~

Part 2

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[d4minnie]

Pairing: YandereStalker!Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: Stalking,kidnapping & slight gore

Wc:1,835

THIS IDEA LOOKED BETTER IN MY HEAD🥲😔

MINORS DNI

Day 1

"You look pretty in that black dress; you should wear it more often."

"Um, I think you have the wrong number..."

You quickly hung up, glancing around the restaurant where you and your friends were sitting, scanning for anyone suspicious, but everyone seemed normal. It felt strange—surely it was just a coincidence? You were wearing a black dress, but the number that called you was unfamiliar. There were tons of people in the restaurant wearing black dresses; the world didn’t revolve around you, right? It had to be a coincidence.

Then you felt your phone buzz and, before you could think, you read a message from that same number. It simply said "1." Your heart raced, and you felt increasingly jumpy. Suddenly, you jumped at the sensation of a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see your friend Miyu looking at you.

"Are you okay? You seem off. We can leave if you want." She offered a sympathetic smile, but wanting to keep the mood light, you shook your head. "No, it’s fine," you chuckled, though she didn't seem convinced.

"If you say so, but if you feel uneasy, let me know," she said, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before returning to what she was doing.

Day 2

The next morning, you completely forgot about the strange call. "Shi—I forgot about that project!" You muttered, jumping out of bed and tripping over the tangled blankets. Scrambling around, you searched for your laptop, hardly taking the time to get ready. You were so on edge! The deadline was in just a couple of days, but you had plans!

As soon as you unlocked your laptop, you received a call. Unable to find your phone, you answered on your laptop. "Hello?" All you heard was heavy breathing. "Hello?? Is this a prank call?!" More heavy breathing on the other end. "Seriously, this isn’t funny. Who is this?" You got only a grunt in response. With a frustrated sigh, you hung up. Just as you were about to start on your project, a notification popped up in the corner of your screen from that same number—Pretty number 2 :)

"What a weirdo." Was this some new way for guys to flirt? You sighed and blocked the number, then turned back to your project.

Day 3

You slipped on some cute gold earrings as you got ready for your date. Your friends had been pestering you lately about getting out more, insisting you shouldn’t stay inside all the time. You didn’t really understand what they were talking about—sure, you hadn’t dated much, but that wasn’t your fault! You were just busy.

After checking your outfit for the fifth time and doing a quick spin for your friends on FaceTime, you finally felt ready. You hung up, spritzed on some perfume, and tossed your phone into your purse along with a few essentials. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed you looked good.

Just as you were about to open the door, your phone rang from an unknown number. “Not this again,” you grumbled, deciding to block the caller without a second thought. But just as you reached for the doorknob, your phone buzzed again with another unfamiliar number. Frustrated, you answered, bringing the phone to your ear.

“I don’t know if you think this is funny, but pi—”

“Leave that house and I’ll kill you.”

The voice was chillingly serious, and your heart raced, pounding against your chest. “Wha—who is this?” you stammered, but the caller hung up, leaving you confused and scared shitless.

Taking the threat seriously, you quickly texted your date to cancel. As you were doing that, a new message from the same number popped up: It's the number 3 pretty :) Panic surged through you. You blocked the number again, hurriedly shut all the blinds, and double-checked the locks on both the front and back doors. Finally, you curled up in bed, trying to push the fear aside as you went to sleep.

Day 4

The next morning, after a long internal debate, you finally found the courage to leave the house. As you braced yourself to open the door, relief flooded over you. But just as you stepped outside, your foot slipped on something, and you stumbled, twisting your ankle. "Ah, ouch!" you grunted, squeezing your eyes shut in pain.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally opened your eyes and looked down to see what had caused you to trip. But then you froze, your blood running cold.

There, on the ground, lay the lifeless head of your date, eyes staring blankly into the void. A scream lodged in your throat, but it wouldn't come. The reality of the scene consumed you, dread pooling in your stomach as the world tilted on its axis.

You double over, retching violently. The contents of your stomach heave up, spilling out in a chaotic rush. You feel each spasm shake through you, a raw, involuntary reaction that feels both foreign and all-consuming. Your vision blurs, the morning light morphing into a haze of colours and shapes.

Every gag feels like a release, yet the lifeless eyes that seem to be glaring at you in pity remains anchored in your mind. You catch your breath, trembling, trying to wipe the remnants from your mouth, but the disgust lingers, a bitter taste that mingles with the fear.

You quickly tried to get up, forgetting about your painful ankle, which caused you to fall again. Frustrated, you gave up and crawled back into the house, tears streaming down your face with each sob. Once inside, you locked the door tight and let out a blood-curdling wail, feeling as if the tears burning your cheeks were scalding hot.

Then you heard it—the phone ringing. This time, you let it ring, your heart racing until a notification chimed. With shaky hands, you reached for your phone, and the sight of the message made your heart drop: You really shouldn't ignore my calls, pretty :) And guess what number... 4!

Panic surged through you as you quickly blocked the number, your breath quickening. The words felt like a threat, echoing in your mind. You glanced around the dark room, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread settle in. The implications were clear—someone was watching you, and they knew more than you realized.

Without wasting another moment, you dialed the police, breathlessly informing them about what lay right outside your door. But as you spoke, your vision began to blur and go spotty. The world around you started to fade, and before you knew it, you collapsed.

Day 5

You woke up in the hospital, disoriented. According to the nurses, you had fainted and hit your head, but not too badly—you’d be able to leave in about a week. You just hummed in reply, glancing at your phone. Ignoring the calls from your worried parents and friends felt easier; every ringtone felt like a taunt, reminding you of everything that had happened.

Your thoughts were interrupted by five knocks at the door. You looked to the side and saw two officers enter the room—one with striking blue eyes and pearly white hair, while the other had long black hair tied in a bun. Your heart raced. Are they going to arrest me? Do they not believe me? Oh my God, am I going to—

“Calm down, pretty. You’re not in trouble,” the white-haired officer said. While his words were meant to reassure you, they felt oddly mocking.

“We just want to understand what happened, okay?” you nodded in response. The black-haired officer pulled out a notepad and pen, and you recapped everything for them, including the strange numbers. They asked to borrow your phone for further investigation, and you agreed. That simple act relieved some of the weight on your shoulders.

Afterward, you decided to sleep, as you really didn’t have anything else to do. But when you awoke, something felt deeply wrong. The light in the room was off, and it was completely dark; you couldn’t even see your own hand in front of your face.

You stumbled over to the light switch and flicked it on, and you swear you felt your soul leave your body. On the window were five neat "5s" painted in light blue. But what terrified you the most wasn’t just those numbers; it was the extra "5" painted on the floor, with what you assumed wasn’t red paint because of the headless body in the middle.

You bolted out of the room, yelling for a doctor, your words tumbling out in a frantic loop. “DEAD BODY THERES A DEAD BODY IN MY ROOM!—” It felt surreal, like a scene playing on repeat, and you weren’t sure if any of it was real.

The other doctors didn’t seem to take you seriously either. As soon as they stepped into your room, you heard a loud wail and cries for the police. Panic gripped you tighter as a nurse hurried over, escorting you to a different room.

“We’ll get this sorted out,” she said, though her voice wavered slightly. As she left to check on the commotion, you felt a wave of dread wash over you. Alone in the new room you decided to just let sleep overtake you.

Day 6

The next morning, a nurse entered your room, her expression serious. “The same officers from yesterday are going to ask you questions again,” she said. Something about that didn’t sit right with you.

When they had questioned you the day before, it felt like it seemed like a hassle for them. The white-haired officer was particularly unsettling—he was overly touchy, sighing dramatically, and his face constantly twitched as if he was holding back laughter. You definitely didn’t want to face them again, but you had little choice. As you replayed the interaction from the day before, it felt like you were missing something. Sitting upright on the hospital bed, you put your head in your hands, trying to figure it out. Your thoughts were cut off by six knocks at the door, which made you feel sick.

“Hope we’re not interrupting anything,” the white-haired officer said with a big smile, as if there was anything to smile about at that moment. “Yesterday I didn’t get to introduce myself, pretty. My name’s Satoru, and this is my friend Suguru.” He held out his hand, but you didn’t take it; something about him made you feel incredibly sick.

“Ouch, harsh,” he chuckled. At that moment, realization hit you—oh my god, how did you not notice? The word “pretty,” that sickening word, made you choke on your spit. Tears brimmed at your eyelids, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Could I excuse myself to the bathroom for a second?” you asked, forcing a carefree smile that clearly didn’t match your panic. They let you go anyway.

Once outside the room, you sprinted down the hallway and out of the hospital, running as fast as you could. Rocks dug into the soles of your feet, and you could feel blisters forming, but you didn’t care. You were sure someone must have called the police after seeing someone in hospital clothes running barefoot. After a moment to catch your breath, you doubled over.

You heard a car stop next to you and were about to run again when someone spoke, “Are you okay? Do you need a ride?” You saw an unfamiliar man in the passenger seat, but at least he wasn’t Satoru or Suguru. You quickly opened the door and hopped into the passenger seat, profusely thanking the man. “You don’t understand how much I appreciate this, thank you so mu—”

“You shouldn’t run barefoot, pretty.” Before you could react, hands from behind covered your mouth with a rag. You thrashed around, trying to escape, but you kept accidentally inhaling whatever was in the rag. It felt like you were slowly losing consciousness. You glanced at the driver, who was looking forward with a guilty expression, and just before you passed out, you heard, “6.”

[noosayog]

gravitate ft. miya atsumu

wc: 4.1k, part 1 of 2

contents/warnings: fwb dynamic, fluff, heavy on angst, suggestive but sfw, reader uses she/her prns, referred to as girlfriend, wife, reader has minor social anxiety

when i said this, i was referring to this

--

Of course it’d be the one time you say yes to the many invitations you get from Hinata to celebrate a post-game win with his teammates and other close friends. 

Even though you’ve met a handful of Hinata’s volleyball friends and teammates before, the prospect of being in an enclosed space with people you don’t know still makes you anxious. You pay a bit closer attention to your outfit before heading out. 

A 15-minute commute and one deep breath at the door later, you’re sat next to Hinata at the table as he introduces you to the rest of his current Black Jackals teammates. 

“You know Kageyama and my old high school teammates already. That’s Bokuto-”

“Hey!”

“That’s Sakusa-san,” 

A silent nod. 

“Hoshiumi-san,”

“Hello.”

“And Miya Atsumu-kun, our setter.” 

“Hi,” you nod shyly to everyone. The immediate halt in the conversation leaves you feeling like you need to bust out a joke or something. Luckily, everyone quickly turns their attention back to the menu, leaving you to catch your breath even though all you’ve done was say a one-syllable greeting. 

You spend much of the first half of dinner talking only to Hinata, racking your brain for topics for small talk, and speaking up only when you’ve been talked to first. 

A few drinks help loosen you up a bit and dinner ends without a hitch before the group decides to move to a nearby bar. 

You’re content to watch the group and their antics quietly, before excusing yourself to get another drink at the bar.

“‘Scuse me.” 

“”Oh,” you say, shying away from the voice. “I’ll move over.” 

“Thanks,” the unfamiliar voice responds. 

You stand awkwardly at the bar as you and the stranger try to flag down the bartender. You feel the prickly sensation of a stare at the side of your face and when you glance over, you find the stranger’s gaze on you. 

You give him an uncomfortable smile, before averting your eyes again. 

“Busy night, huh?” 

You glance at him again, giving him one nod of acknowledgement. 

“What’cha drinking?” 

“Oh, uh… just a beer, I think.” 

“Yeah? What kind?”

“Uh… I don’t know. Just whatever,” you say, hoping he takes the hint. 

“Can I make a suggestion then? What do you usually like to drink?” You glance back towards your group and accidentally make eye contact with Miya Atsumu, the setter you had met at dinner. He looks away just as quickly. 

You close your eyes in defeat before turning back to the bar, being careful not to make eye contact with the man beside you. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.” 

He inches closer, arm almost touching yours now. “Aww, c’mon. Just tell me. It’ll be on me.” 

You lean further away, the back of your thighs now pressing against the bar chair behind you. “I-” 

“Hey! Gettin’ another drink?” 

The said bar chair suddenly gets yanked away, leaving you stumbling back a few steps, but a hand comes up on your shoulder to steady you. You look up to see Miya Atsumu. He places one arm between you and the other man, angling his body to face you. 

“Oh! Atsumu. Yes, I am,” you can’t contain the relief in your exhale. 

You notice Atsumu inching backwards to give you more space and simultaneously box out the other guy. His back pushes into the other guy’s arm, who gives a weak protest. 

Atsumu looks behind him and offers a flippant, “sorry, buddy,” before flagging the bartender down with no issues.

“Another beer for me and…” Atsumu looks to you. 

“Make it two.” 

The two of you stand side by side while the bartender fills up the mugs and you rack your brain for things to say. 

“Sorry if I was bein’ a busybody,” Atsumu speaks first. “Just didn’t look like you were enjoyin’ it.” 

He juts a thumb behind his back to gesture at the guy, now a distance away. 

“Oh yeah- I mean, no. Uh, thanks. Yeah…” 

Atsumu laughs. “No worries and… there’s no need to be nervous around the guys. We’re a rowdy bunch, but all good people, I promise.” 

You pick at your fingers. “Was I that obvious?” 

“Little bit,” he chuckles. “Seems that the drinks are loosenin’ you up a bit though.” He gestures at the glass that the bartender dropped off in front of him and hands his card over. 

“I can pay…” 

“Nah, on me. You can take the next one if you feel bad.” 

You thank him and take the glass. 

Atsumu sits down on one of the bar chairs facing you. “So, how do you know Shoyo-kun?” 

Still standing, your eyes flicker to your group, still huddled around the same table where you left them. 

“Are…” we not going back? The question dies on your tongue when you turn back to Atsumu and see the way he stares, eyebrows raised as if he knows what you’re thinking and curious as to what decision you’ll make. 

You sit down in the bar chair next to him and he’s so easy to talk to and one thing leads to another and before you know it, you end up in his bed later that night.

– 

You wake up the next morning with foreign sheets tangled around your legs and an unfamiliar body warmth under your cheek. When you tilt your head up, you're met with Atsumu’s brown eyes. He’s awake and blinking lazily down at you, one arm still wrapped around your waist. 

It’s instinct, the way you look back down, embarrassed at having been caught and shy despite the state of your undress.

A raspy chuckle shakes from his chest where you have one palm flat against as your brain awakens its overthinking engine. 

You have no experience with hooking up with strangers, but he wouldn’t be looking for a no-strings attached type situation if he’s cuddling you in the morning, right? Or maybe you should’ve left last night?

But at the same time, isn’t poor etiquette to kick your partner out of bed the second you’re done? So maybe he’s just being polite by letting you crash here? And the cuddling, as comfortable as it is, is just him being a decent man? 

“Hey,” his gentle voice shakes you from your thoughts, one finger coming below your chin to meet his eyes. “Good mornin’” 

“Morning,” you mumble demurely, eyes desperately looking anywhere but him, even as he holds your face close. 

He drops a light kiss on your lips. “Last night was great. You feelin’ okay?” 

Your legs twitch in response. You belatedly realize that your legs are pushed between his. “A little sore, but I’m okay.” 

“Good. Wanna take a shower and we can talk over breakfast?” 

“‘Mkay.” 

You reluctantly take your legs back, relishing the last bit of his body heat, but Atsumu has other ideas. In one sweeping motion, he flips his duvet off and tosses you over his shoulder. 

“Atsumu!” 

He gives your thighs a pat before walking you over to the bathroom. You thank every god out there that you had some sense to pull your panties and one of his shirts on before passing out. 

He drops you off on the toilet seat. “Use anything you want. Fresh towels are in that drawer. There should be a new toothbrush under the sink.” 

“I could’ve walked myself.” 

He presses another kiss to your lips, the contact making you realize you’ve been pouting. “I know. Take your time, darlin’.” 

You make sure the door clicks shut behind him before you grab a fresh towel, hold it tight against your face and scream into the abyss. 

– 

A hot shower revives you. The ache between your legs stays but  the hot water helped, so you wobble your way to the kitchen. Two plates of toast and eggs sit on the dining table already as you watch Atsumu fill up a glass of water. When he sees you, he gestures for you to sit. 

“Hey, how was the shower?” 

You give your own body a once over before frowning at him. “I could’ve worn my clothes from yesterday.” 

A clean t-shirt was sitting folded for you on the toilet seat when you came out of the shower, so that’s all you were wearing over yesterday’s underwear. 

“And can you put on a shirt?” you add. 

He grins. You’re already getting used to seeing that expression on him. “Why? Am I distractin’ you? And in case you forgot, you spilled water all over yourself at the bar yesterday, so your clothes are still wet.”

“We should’ve put them in the dryer or at least hung them up last night…”

He walks over to you and pulls you towards the dining table. You let him coax you into a chair. “Well, we were a bit preoccupied when we got inside, yeah?” 

“Whatever…” you deflect, jabbing at the scrambled eggs on your plate. 

“So…” he starts, after putting the dishes in the sink and refusing your attempts to clean up. “About last night.” 

You tense up, clenching your fists. 

“I had a really good time and I really enjoyed talking to you.” 

Enjoyed, past tense. A part of you relaxes. At least you know the general direction he wanted to take this in. 

“Me too,” you respond. 

“And I don’t wanna give you the wrong idea, but I’m not looking for a committed relationship right now. I need to focus on volleyball and I mean, you’re Shoyo-kun’s friend, so I don’t want that to be weird either.” 

You nod. “I get it.” 

He looks startled at your easy response. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I really enjoyed talking to you too, but I’m not expecting us to start dating or anything.” 

He blinks. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you ask, wondering if you should be offended by the reaction. 

“It’s not that I’m surprised. Well,I guess I am a bit. You don’t really seem like the type who’s used to casual hook ups.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I just mean-”

You laugh. “I know what you mean. I’m just playing with you.” He relaxes a bit. “You’re right. I don’t really do this,” you gesture between the two of you, “often. But like you said, I think we both really enjoyed each others’ company and we can leave it at that.” 

“Okay, then.” 

“Yep.” 

An awkward breath passes before he speaks up again. “I hung your clothes up to dry earlier this morning. They should be good now.” 

You’re not positive that he means it this way, but you take the hint anyway. “Thanks. I’ll get changed and get going.” 

He gets up after you. “Can I walk you back?”

You put a hand out to keep some distance between you two. “Atsumu. I think I can manage.” 

He smiles, unsure, but nods anyway. 

At the door, he opens his arms and you file in robotically, giving him a loose hug before saying goodbye. 

You feel slightly bad at the obvious distance you were putting between the two of you, and you’re sure Atsumu can pick up on it, but it’d be far better to make things a little awkward than to let him get any closer than he already has in just one night. 

– 

It takes another afterparty hosted by Hinata for you to see him again. You had kind of figured that the unspoken rule was that if neither of you reached out, it really meant nothing. Even though the two of you never exchanged numbers or social media, you’d be lying if you didn’t have a little hope that he’d ask someone for your social and DM you. But days, weeks, went by with your messages and DMs dry, so you packed up your foolish hopes and chucked them to the furthest corner of your brain. 

This time, the gathering is hosted at Bokuto’s beautiful lofty apartment, fully furnished with a modern kitchen, balcony overlooking Tokyo, and massive living area. 

Even though you know pretty much all the attendees today, it doesn’t keep you from feeling a bit nauseous on the elevator ride up. Once again, at the front door, you raise your finger to press on the doorbell, pausing to take a deep breath before pushing the button. 

When the door swings open, the loud chatter of the inside makes it clear that this was not the small gathering you were expecting. The apartment is packed with people, many of whom you don’t recognize. 

“Hey! You made it!” 

“Welcome to my place!” 

Hinata and Bokuto, with one arm around each other, greet you loudly at the door. 

You awkwardly push your gift of red bean mochi in front of you. “I’m so sorry… I thought it was going to be a small thing, so I only brought a pack of 12.” 

Bokuto laughs heartily, plucking the gift from your hands. “This is great! Akaashi loves red bean mochi, so thanks! We’ll just keep it to our close friends instead of sharing it with the entire party,” he winks at you. 

Hinata grabs your arm and ushers you to the kitchen area, which is slightly less packed than the living room and balcony. “Are you drinking tonight?” 

“Yep, I’ll have something.” 

He produces a can of beer and pops the tab for you. 

“Lemme introduce you to some of the people here. You already know the usual Karasuno alum. You met most of my current BJ teammates last time. Oh, yeah,” he interrupts himself. “What happened to you last time by the way? We were all at the bar and then I don’t really remember seeing you go home at some point.” 

Not seeing any particular reason to keep it a secret, you tell him about going home with his setter. 

“Ah.” Hinata says. 

“What?” you ask warily. “Maybe… has Atsumu asked about me?”

Hinata shakes his head. “No, not really?” 

You scowl. “Then why’d you say ‘ah’ like that?” 

“Did I? My bad!” 

You roll your eyes, having momentarily forgotten that your friend hardly thinks about much else other than volleyball. 

He introduces you to some other people, mostly other volleyball players before dropping you off at the kitchen since you said you needed another drink. 

“You sure you’re going to be alright on your own?” 

You try to smile reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. Go have fun.” 

He leaves, so you busy yourself rummaging through the fridge for another drink. When you find nothing of interest, you look around the room, eyeing what people have in their drinks. The longer you spend looking around without a drink in your hand and in your own company in the crowded room, the more you feel out of place. With that, you grab the first unopened drink on the counter and snake your way through the crowd in search of a familiar face. 

And it just so happens that the first familiar face you find is Atsumu. 

“Hey, stranger,” he says easily to you. 

“I’m not the one who’s a stranger,” you blurt out the first quippy line you could think of. 

His eyes widen. “What-” 

“It’s just a joke.” you cut him off. “I didn’t mean it in any special way.” 

He doesn’t buy it, expression sobering up quickly. “Didn’t sound like a joke to me.” 

You scramble for words, your social anxiety not helping. “I really just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. You know I get really nervous at these group things…” 

He stares at you. A couple of seconds go by and you contemplate just turning around and walking away to mourn your social ineptitude somewhere private. But Atsumu breaks out in a small smile. 

“You were pretty nervous at that time, huh?” 

“Exactly!” you eagerly add on. “Atsumu, I really didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“I believe you. But…” 

You stiffen. 

“Wouldn’t blame you if you meant it in a special way. I hear I’m pretty unforgettable.” 

You punch him in the arm. 

He laughs good-naturedly and offers a crooked arm. “Another drink?” 

You look down to see your bottle empty. You take his arm and let him lead you to another drink which turns into four. 

Atsumu’s presence is massive and it makes meeting new people easier. He introduces you (as Hinata’s childhood friend, of course) to new people, resting a heavy arm over your shoulder as he gets more drinks in his system. 

The gesture doesn’t alarm you. After all, men who are interested in someone would put an arm around your waist, right? Friends do shoulders, just like how Hintata and Bokuto had greeted you at the door. 

But just like last time, he melts your worries away and before long, the two of you are giggling into each others lips and sneaking out to go do something other than talk. 

–

And it happens again, and again, and again. Before you know it, every single dinner, afterparty, night out becomes an opportunity for the two of you to get together. You always somehow find yourselves all alone where you always talk for hours and enjoy each others’ company too much, and fail to resist the temptation of falling into bed together. And each morning, you wake up, act like lovers until breakfast, before parting ways to radio silence until the next time. 

Your mutual count of offenses gets into the double digits before you really realize you’re in hot water. 

–

The next time it happens, it’s when Hinata invites you to watch an official game. You show up wearing a plain black top to show your support for the Jackals. As you settle into the seats Hinata offers up to you and some ex-teammates, he spots your group and gives you his usual sunny smile. 

The rest of his team notices you and now that you’ve met them a couple of times, a natural smile comes easier when you meet each of their eyes. When your gaze finally falls upon Atsumu, he gives you a silly grin, not unlike the one you’re getting used to seeing over breakfast, and holds his fingers up in a corny heart. You roll your eyes playfully and he clutches his heart dramatically in response. 

A giggle escapes your lips, keeping a ghost of a smile on your lips until Tsukishima, who decided to join you to watch the game, catches you with one eyebrow raised. 

“What?” you ask defensively. 

“Nothing.” 

From there, you make sure to keep your expressions reigned in. Sure, your eyes may follow him a bit more than any other player, but that’s not something to read into. He’s the setter, after all. They touch the ball the most so it only makes sense that anyone watching the game would watch him the most. 

The Jackals end up losing in the close third set. You meet the players outside afterwards to tell them it was a great game and when the group emerges, it’s sans the setter. Mustering up a reassuring smile, you give each one of them a hug before sneaking away back to the gym to check up on the one you’re most concerned about. 

After your first hookup with Atsumu, he had told you that volleyball was the reason he couldn’t be in a committed relationship at the moment. To anyone, that would have sounded like an excuse. But after getting to know him more, you could tell he really meant it. So it’s not a surprise to you when you find him still on the court, practicing serves even when his eyes are rimmed red. 

“Atsumu,” you call out. 

He jumps and slams another serve, as if he hadn’t heard you. 

“Atsumu,” you say a bit louder. 

You step closer and closer, taking tentative steps until you’re right behind him. As he picks up another ball, you put your hand on his arm to stop him. 

“Atsumu,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t shake you off so you take the chance to pry the ball out of his hand, letting it bounce to the ground as you circle around to face him. His eyes stayed glued to the floor, fists clenched. You bring your fingers to his, lightly uncurling them from where they make angry crescent imprints in his palm. When his hands relent, you let them fall limply back to his side before pulling him in for a hug. It only takes one second of hesitation before he returns the embrace fiercely, crushing you against him. You swear you can feel a dampness on your shoulder that isn’t sweat. 

“You need to rest,’ you whisper. 

He nods, letting you guide him home, where something in him seems to snap. His hands and lips are all over you even in the hallway of his buildings and it leaves you with barely enough sanity to dig  his keys out of his gym bag to unlock the door before he takes you against the door, on his couch, and one last time in bed. Maybe you imagined the “thank you” he whispers to you before you pass out cold. 

It’s sometime in the middle of the night when you come to, somewhere between awake and asleep. You stir to the sensation of Atsumu’s fingers brushing against the crown of your head. 

“Hey sleepy,” you hear him murmur. 

You hear yourself make some incoherent noise, curling your body closer into the warmth of his body. 

“You awake?” 

“No.” 

He chuckles. “Up for another round?” 

“‘Tsumu… I’m tired.” 

“I like you calling me that.” 

You open one eye. “‘Tsumu?” 

“Yeah,” he says before leaning down and kissing you. It’s not a close lipped, innocent kiss that he often gives you the morning after. It’s languid but still urgent. You can feel your reservations slipping away. He slips a warm palm under your shirt and as he ghosts over your stomach, ribcage, then higher. 

There’s something intensely intimate about the way he touches you tonight: his forehead pressed to yours, vocal in the way he insists that you keep your eyes open. That intimacy fills your insides with something warm, and at the same time, dangerously hot. It trips some sort of alarm in your mind, but all your reservations fly out the window as he starts to move. You can’t think. 

Definitely not when he keeps kissing you up until the moment you fall asleep and you fade away to the feeling of his lips pressed to yours. 

–

For one of the first times ever, you wake up dreading the morning-after routine with Atsumu. Because this one feels different. The way he says good morning with a lazy smile, the way he strokes your forehead, the way he stares when you stretch, the way he carries you like a princess to the bathroom. 

By the time it’s time for you to make your exit, you’re convinced he feels it too. His stares linger too long, too hot to be casual. He says goodbye with a longing that is hard for even you, in all your inexperience, to ignore. 

And you have to know. 

You turn back right as you’re leaving. “Atsumu.” 

“What happened to ‘Tsumu?” he teases. 

“Can I come watch your next game?” 

“Hm? ‘Course you can. Shoyo-kun usually gets you tickets right?” 

You test the waters: something subtle but gets the message across. 

“Would it be okay if I wore your jersey?” 

His laughing stops abruptly. 

If he laughs it off and makes a joke about you joining his army of fans, you’d take the hint. This would still be casual and you’d need to re-rectify your barriers. But if by chance… 

He looks at you for a long, excruciating moment, before offering a small, shuttered smile. 

You tense up. It’s not the answer you wanted, but you always knew there was a chance this would happen anyway. You’re just grateful you waited until it was time to leave before bringing it up. 

“No… I don’t think you should.” 

That takes you by surprise. 

“I mean, I don’t want our friends to think that-” 

“That what?” you bite back with a bit more aggression that you wanted. 

Atsumu stands up straight from where he was leaning lazily in the doorway. A quiet, but stern calling of your name snaps you out of whatever reverie you’ve been in for the past couple of months. “I thought we both agreed that this was a casual thing. It goes without saying that I don’t want our friends to think we’re together. That would only complicate things.” 

Complicate? You want to scoff. As if being the outlet for his frustration last night wasn’t complicating things already. As if every kiss and touch from just a couple hours ago wasn’t complicating everything. 

But, you take a breath, composing yourself. 

“Right, sorry. I just wanted to… let you know I’m here for you. Like last night.” you bite out. 

He winces slightly. 

“See you around, Atsumu.” 

He doesn’t stop you when you walk off. In fact, everything remains the same. No texts, no calls, no messages.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: New at This

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lloyd tugs in his ear lobe as you get up to take your empty bowl to the counter. The lone cashier smiles and gives a nervous look past you to the corner. You return to the table and wonder if he has a reputation here. You wouldn't be surprised with his behaviour. 

"Is your ear alright?" You ask as you take the cup of iced tea. 

"Huh?" He turns to you and drops his hand. "Yeah, hearing's f-- off. Just got back from a job and... the machinery was loud." 

"Hm, it could be a busted ear drum. I know someone who had that. He never could hear me but that coulda been the TV too," you shrug. 

"It's fine," he taps his fingers on the table as you stay standing. "So, you headed out?" 

"Yeah, I guess I should. Getting dark." 

"Right," he nods. "Well," he stands and tugs at the bottom of his shirt, shaking off the crumbs. "You need a ride?" 

He zips up his jacket, the collar ending just below his chin. You button up your blue houndstooth coat. "No, I can make it." 

"Wait, you're not walking are you?" He asks as he gathers up the wrapper and napkins. 

"Not too far if I cut behind the barbershop--" 

"Cut behind-- are you serious? You can't be walking down alleys in the dark. Trust me." 

"Oh?" You give him a curious look, "you hang out in dark alleyways a lot?" 

His brow tweaks and his lips twitch, "is that a joke?" 

"Not a very good one," you smile. "I always make it." 

"And this might be the time you don't. Least I can do. You bought me dinner, I feel like I owe you a ride." 

"You don't owe me anything," you assure him. 

"Huh, you're too nice, you know that? You could give a guy the wrong idea." l

"No, I don't think so," you sigh. "Being nice isn't anything but. I hope your enjoyed your dinner." 

"You know what? The chipotle wasn't bad," he says. "So now that's two things. I owe you for paying and for the good advice. What's that you said about paying it forward?" 

Checkmate. Using your own words against you. As it is, you're starting to feel rude for saying no so many times. It would be nice not to have to walk home with your phone light on. 

"Is taking a ride from a strange man better than walking home alone?" You ask, "since you're the expert?" 

"Wow, you can be mean," he snorts. "Reading me like a book." 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m kidding.” 

“I know, tootsie roll,” he says, “sweet like candy, aren’t ya?” 

You smile again, “well, you can be too. I’ll take the ride. Thank you.” 

He dumps the garbage in the bin and heads for the door. He lets you out ahead of him. It’s colder than when you got there. 

“It’s cold as... hell out here,” he says follows you out. He points you ahead, “the white one.” 

He blows into his hands and rubs them together. You’re no fan of the cold either but you can see his nose already turning red. You approach the white car; it’s sleek and shiny. You’re not sure what make it is but it must be expensive. 

The doors click loudly, “should be unlocked.” 

You nod and open the passenger door. You sit daintily, wary of the luxury interior. You shut the door just as carefully as he gets in the other side. He grumbles as he starts the engine and flicks switches. 

“Get those seat warmers on,” he says. “Ah, better.” He puts his palms to the blast of warmth from the vent before he grips the wheel. “Help me out, tootsie roll, where am I going?” 

“Right down to Harbour. East.” 

“Harbour East... you kidding me? You were really going to walk there alone?” He scoffs. 

“It’s not so bad once you get to know the area,” you say.  

“How’d you end up there?” He pulls into a three point turn as he reroutes. 

“I guess it’s just where I am right now. Thing’s changed fast and I had to make it work,” you lean into the seat. You’ve never been in a car with seat warmers. 

“Huh, that’s too bad,” he clucks. “You still looking for a place? I know a guy, owns a few properties...” 

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you hum lightly. “Really. It’s nice. I got my own space, I got food, I’m happy as can be.” 

“Simple things, so I’ve heard,” he mutters. 

You let a lull wash over you. Judging by his car, simple isn’t exactly to his taste. 

“So...” you brush your fingertips over your palm, “what do you do for work? You travel? When you mentioned your ear...” 

“Ah, yeah, er,” he squeezes the wheel tighter and coughs, “you know, I’m on the road when I need to be. Work can be sporadic but pays well enough. Specialty type of work.” 

“With loud machinery...” 

“Military engineer. You know, artillery, tanks... whatever,” he peeks over at you as blows through a four-way. 

“Hey, you missed the stop sign,” you crane to see behind you. 

“It’s fine, no one was crossing,” he says. 

“Yeah but... it’s not safe.” You turn forward again and frown. 

He’s quiet again. He sucks his teeth, “fine, you’re right. Not fair of me to offer you a ride then drive like a maniac. I’ll do better.” 

You let out a breath and subtly grab onto the door. Despite his promises, he doesn’t let off the gas. With how quiet the car is, it must be easy to go over the limit.  

He pulls onto Harbour and finally slows, “so, uh, why don’t you give me a call next time you head down to the shop? We could do it again. I’ll be nice this time.” 

“I don’t go too often but sure, I could use a friend,” you perk up and direct him to your building. 

“You telling me you don’t got friends, tootsie roll?” He stops in front of your apartment. 

“I... did. They’re gone now,” you look away. You try not to get to wistful about it. “Anyway, thanks--” 

“Holy f—moley,” he corrects himself as he leans forward to see around you, “this place can’t be up to code--” 

“Lloyd,” you blurt out. “I’m fine. Really. Home safe. Thanks to you.” 

“Mhm, well, friends are supposed to worry about each other, right?” 

“And as your friend, I’m telling you not to worry,” you smile and pull the handle, “have a good night.” 

He huffs as you undo your seat belt, “yeah, good night.” 

[lw77]

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 4. - Good?

A boat, a swim, a party and heat. All in that order.

🧴 It may help to read Chapter 3- Sunburn before this! 🧴

“Hmmm, more sunscreen, baby?” Max asks in an oblivious tone that only makes Logan more frustrated, especially as he's drowning in this heady arousal.

Whining his displeasure into Max’s neck, Logan tries to rock his hips back for some friction, but Max’s chuckle vibrates through him, teasing. “C’mon, Maxie, please,” Logan pleads.

In response, Max cups Logan’s thighs, gently closing them from their wide, debauched display. He shifts Logan to lie sideways across his lap, moving him down his chest. Logan rests his arms on Max’s chest, looking up with glassy, pleading eyes. Max gazes down at him, smoothing a hand through Logan’s hair. “You’ll have to behave, Angel. Everyone’s coming back now. You can be good for me, right?” 

Logan gulps for air, trying to nod and clear his head, but his tongue feels too heavy in his mouth. “Y-yeah, I can be good.”

With his head a little clearer, Logan hears the jet skis in the distance. Panic tenses his body against Max’s chest. “What’s wrong, Angel?” Max asks, his lips brushing Logan’s temple.

Logan’s eyes flick up to Max’s before dropping down. “Th-they’re gonna know,” he mumbles.

Max chuckles. “It’s okay. We’ll go in the water before they board, Angel. Let’s go.” He stands, pulling Logan up with him.

Logan’s legs buckle, but Max’s steady hands hold him upright.

Max was right; Logan can see the dots of the boys growing closer, their hoots and hollers getting louder.

“Ready?” Max asks.

Logan nods. “Yeah, I’ll just slip in this time.”

Max dives into the water before swimming back closer to where Logan is dangling his legs. With a playful grin, Max grabs Logan’s legs, prompting a surprised yelp as he pulls him in. Logan sputters as the water washes over him. “That was mean, Maxie,” he protests. 

But Max grins cheekily, guiding Logan to wrap his arms and legs around him, tilting his head in question. “Better?” 

Logan tightens his arms, contemplating dramatically before replying, “No.” His ploy is obvious as he snuggles into Max, resting his head on his shoulder while gazing at the horizon behind them.

The boys finally come back, whistling at their close display. His own best friends give him knowing looks over their sunglasses as they board.

But he and Max just stay close, Max’s body a warm presence in the cool water. At some point, Logan lets his arms unwind from Max’s neck and relaxes back in the water, with only his legs acting as an anchor. Max’s hand centres him on his lower spine while the other leisurely treads the water.

On deck, leaning over the railing, Logan's two best friends stand. Oscar is taking a picture of the couple while Alex cups his mouth to shout, “Guys, there are otters in the water!” This makes some of the guys rush to the rail to see. Danny is the first to comment, “Those are quite big, mate! Good eye!” Finally, Carlos places a hand on Oscar’s shoulder and shouts, his Spanish accent thick as he teases, “You know otters mate for life!”

Still reclined in the water, Logan yells back, “I’m calling PETA or Greenpeace on you all.” He hears Max laugh and looks toward him, squinting against the sun, offering a smile. Using the same hand on Logan’s lower back, Max pulls him close and upright, and Logan wraps his arms around Max’s shoulders.

Logan leans back to look into Max’s eyes, curious. “Were you being serious earlier when you said that?”

Leisurely treading water to keep them both afloat, Max replies, “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, Angel.”

“Back at the—uh, when we were inside? You said you wanted me for a while,” Logan says, looking away shyly.

“Can you blame me? I’ve been thinking about you since the first time I saw you at your dad’s store—all red cheeks and bright eyes.”

Logan gulps at Max’s easy admission. “Okay, good,” he says, meeting Max’s gaze again.

“Ready to go back up, Angel?”

“Yeah, thanks for hiding me, Maxie,” Logan replies softly, burying his face in Max’s neck as he remembers his earlier situation.

As they climb onto the deck, Max hands Logan a towel before pulling him into his lap as they sit with the others, ready to head back.

“So, little Logan, did you have a good nap? Feeling energised to party tonight?” Charles asks teasingly. Unknowingly, his words make Logan blush as he remembers what followed his nap, feeling Max’s chest move in quiet laughter. Logan chokes out an unconvincing, “Y-yeah.”

Max’s silent laughter and Logan’s flustered state make Charles pause, along with the others. Then Charles smiles wide, clapping his hands together as he laughs, “I think some of us lost our money, boys!”

Logan squeaks out, “No! Nothing happened,” at their insinuation, knowing full well about the bet. He buries his face in his hands before burrowing back deeper into Max, eyes big and pleading. “Maxie, tell them!” 

“Angel’s right, nothing happened; he’s been good,” Max replies calmly, his eyes sparkling with something as he smiles down at Logan. Heat runs down Logan’s spine at the memory of Max’s earlier instruction to be good for him. Max’s hand soothes him as he gently smooths the back of Logan’s neck, making him relax against him once more.

He feels someone pat his knee. Looking down, Logan sees it’s Alex. “I knew Princess wouldn’t let me down. Thank you, Logie Bear.” Alex’s hand is splayed over his heart like he’s been touched.

“You guys are awful. I’m going home!” Logan says brattily.

“With Max Emmilian?” Charles excitedly clamours, making Logan groan as he buries his head further in his hands. He can’t win this one.

___________________

When they dock back at the house, Max nudges Logan gently. “You go ahead, Angel. I need to help bring some of the stuff in.” He presses a kiss to the back of Logan’s neck before standing and helping Logan to his feet as well.

“Okay,see you.” Eager to avoid any heavy lifting, Logan hurries off in search of Oscar to head inside together.

He finds Oscar easily enough, sliding up beside him with ease. “So, C-Captain ?” Logan teases, imitating Oscar’s earlier reaction. Oscar promptly shoves him hard enough to make him teeter dangerously off the dock.

“Hey!” Logan exclaims, barely managing to steady himself before falling. “Okay, okay, I won’t tease! But come on, Osc—spill! Don’t think I didn’t notice you were gone. Were you helping George ‘man the helm’?” He lowers his voice into a sultry tone.

Logan watches a flush rise on his friend’s cheeks. “Oh my god, did you!”

“No!” Oscar groans. “We just talked, Logan. I think he’s straight.”

“Maybe, but we’ll see tonight. Besides Captain My Captain, did anyone else catch your eye?” Logan prompts, nudging him.

Oscar glances at him nervously. “Uh, yeah... um, Carlos?”

“I see it.” Logan nods, picturing his best friend with the tall, dark Spaniard. “But don’t be too quick to cross anyone off just because you think they’re straight. Who knows? You might end up with both in your bed tonight. Now wouldn’t that be a treat, Mr. Born-Again Virgin?” Logan says optimistically.

“Maybe,” Oscar replies, still looking a little too sulky for a man with options.

Used to Oscar’s dramatics, Logan rolls his eyes and pushes him toward one of the bedrooms. “Come on, let’s get changed. I brought an extra pair of my ‘fuck-me’ jeans just for you because I support your pillow-princess agenda.”

“I brought my own outfit,” Oscar grumbles.

“Yeah, you dress like a Sean-Cody reject, Osc. It looks good on some, but it’s not going to help your plans tonight,” Logan says matter-of-factly.

He tosses a pair of light-wash jeans and a black tee into Oscar’s hands, then turns to put on his own dry clothes. When he’s finished, he sees that Oscar is ready too. The black tee emphasises the taper of his torso, and both their jeans sit low on their hips, tight enough to show a hint of skin with every movement.

Logan raises an eyebrow. “See? Your waist looks tiny, Osc. I bet both Carlos and George won’t be able to stop themselves.”

Oscar crosses his arms, unintentionally drawing attention to his defined pecs. “Fine, but don’t make it too obvious, please. I’ll do my... thing.”

Logan pokes Oscar’s puffed-up chest. “Sure, just stand like this. I’m pretty sure they won’t be able to resist.”

“Thanks, Log,” Oscar says with a playful smack to Logan’s hand before grabbing it and pulling them both toward the living room, where everyone is already gathered.

There’s music playing at a low volume, and a few are are sprawled on the couch, relaxing or chatting. Danny’s cheery voice rings out from the deck as he makes his way in, arms full with two cases of coolers and beers. Max, Carlos, and Charles follow behind him, each carrying their own assortment of drinks.

Logan turns to Oscar, eyebrow raised. “He said this was going to be a small party. Are there more people coming?”

Oscar’s brows furrow at the sight. “It’s like a Freshies’ wet dream.”

“What’s a Freshie’s wet dream?” Alex asks, slinging an arm around both of them.

“The drinks, Alex. That’s not all for us, right?” Oscar explains, still trying to wrap his head around the overwhelming amount and variety laid out before them.

“I know right, but I overheard George say it’s less than what they usually have, so yeah?” Alex replies, a grin creeping onto his face.

People begin to gather around the drinks, excited to kick off the night. Logan exchanges a look with Oscar, a mix of amusement and excitement in their expressions.

“Come on, Alex, celebratory shots are in order!” Logan says excitedly. Oscar, with a serious tone, adds, “Yes, time to get you drunk, Alboner.”

Together, they pull him toward the bar, laughter bubbling between them. Alex stumbles slightly, pretending to dig his heels as they lead him through the house.

“Have mercy, you twinks! Remember who’s throwing this party—who knows how many shots he’ll make me do?” Alex protests, though a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Charles is manning the bar and greets the three sweetly, pouring them all a generous shot of tequila. As soon as they finish, they spot a fruity concoction waiting for them, accompanied by a devious smile from Charles as he gestures for them to take it. “Go ahead, boys. This is special since it’s your first time with us!”

Looking from the drink to Charles’s smile, the trio isn’t sure whether to feel appreciative or terrified.

Before they can think any more about it, George joins them. “You guys should drink soon. If Danny sees you, he’s going to add ‘a shot’ to each of yours.”

Charles offers a nonchalant shrug.

It’s Alex who shoots them a worried look. “I’m guessing this shot is actually a bottle?”

George claps him on the back. “Got it in one, Albono.”

“Okay, cheers then, boys,” Oscar says, picking up his drink. The other two follow suit, clinking their glasses together as they cheer.

____________________

Logan hasn’t seen Max since the trio wandered away from the bar, and that was three drinks ago. He’s pleasantly pliant, feeling loose from the back-to-back shots.

The three are squished on a loveseat, with Logan on Alex’s side. Oscar, already tipsy, is sprawled over Alex’s lap, his back resting comfortably against him. 

“Already time for homie cuddles, Osc?” Alex teases.

“Shut up, Alboner,” Oscar replies, smacking the back of his head against Alex’s chest.

“Where’s Max, Log? Did he leave?” Oscar asks, looking at Logan with confusion.

Before Logan can voice his own confusion, they hear laughter as Danny, Max, and the others from the bar filter into the living room.

“Alright, fuckers, time for some middle school fun!” Danny shouts, brandishing an empty Moët bottle.

"Oh god,” Logan says at the same time as Alex exclaims, “Oh good.”

They look at each other and laugh, prompting Oscar to shout, “Jinx! One of you owes me a soda, but I’ll accept another drink in its place!”

“Water,” both Logan and Alex say simultaneously, which makes Oscar shout another “Jinx!” as he shoots upright from his sprawled position, excitedly smacking Alex’s shoulder.

Seeing everyone make their way to the circle forming on the floor, Logan gets up while Alex manages a clingy Oscar.

“But I’m comfortable, Alex,” Oscar whines, only conceding when Alex lets him slump down onto the floor beside him. Only for him to crawl back onto his lap after flashing him a pleading look. Snuggling back against Alex, Oscar sighs contentedly, “Perfect.”

Used to Oscar’s drunk antics, Logan scans the room for Max when he notices George and Carlos exchanging raised eyebrows at the sight of Alex and Oscar. He feels a hand brush against the back of his head and looks up to see Max looking down at him, a drink in hand.

Logan sees Max’s eyes flicker to Oscar and Alex, who is wiggling around in Alex’s lap. “Stop moving, Osc, Jesus,” Alex says, finally holding him down by the hips. This only makes Oscar giggle as he throws his head back with a mischievous smile. Max then glances over at Carlos and George, and as Logan follows his gaze, he catches a flash of heat in both their eyes before it disappears.

Looking back at Logan, Max grins at their discovery. He then nods and motions to where he’ll be sitting—right across from Logan.

Danny claps his hands from his seat at the top of the circle, ready to take on the role of game master as he announces that they’ll be playing Truth or Dare.

__________________

A few rounds pass, and thankfully neither he nor Max are called upon. The bottle finally stops on Alex and, by default, Oscar, spun by Charles, who glances at Danny for guidance.

"Alright, since the bottle's pointing at either Oscar or Alex, dealer's choice, Charles," Danny says, amusement lighting up his eyes.

"Works for me," Charles says with a casual shrug. "So, Oscar, truth or dare?"

Oscar, now a bit more settled against Alex after being held down earlier, lifts his head and blinks, puffing his cheeks in thought before exclaiming, "Dare."

A devious smile spreads across Charles' face as he pretends to think for a moment. "Okay, I dare you to make out with Alex," he says, checking his watch. "For at least 60 seconds—could be more, chéri , up to you!" His excitement is barely concealed.

Leaning back against Alex’s chest, Oscar easily pulls Alex’s face toward him, a gesture that shows it’s not their first time. As Alex kisses back, Oscar begins moving against him again, making Alex’s hands on his hips tighten. One of Alex's hands slides to Oscar’s front, pressing against his stomach to still him.

Oscar whines into the kiss, his hand covering Alex’s as he arches into him even more. At being restrained, Oscar begins pleading softly, murmuring "please," "more," and "’Lex," while Alex tries to soothe him with gentle kisses. Finally, Alex deepens the kiss in the way he knows Oscar craves, and Oscar, at last, settles as he receives it. Now making small sounds of appreciation, Oscar’s hand travels from Alex’s face to his hair, gripping the strands to keep him close.

The scene between them is so erotic that even Charles’ earlier devious smile fades into one of confused arousal. When Oscar finally pulls away, gasping for breath, both he and Alex are left breathing heavily against each other, Oscar’s soft gasps suddenly loud in the room that had once been filled with noise.

As the two lean in for more, Logan glances around the room and notices the heated stares from both Carlos and George. He wonders whether their intense gazes are directed solely at Oscar or at Alex as well.

Looking beside them at Max, Logan sees him reclining on his hands, raising an amused eyebrow in response. As Oscar’s desperate noises grow louder, his pleas to Alex rise again, a muffled, “Make me feel good, please,” echoing through the room, accompanied by aborted rolls of his hips against Alex’s restraining hands.

It’s Danny who finally claps his hands, signalling the end of the dare to the two and the rest of the room. The sound startles the group back to awareness, and Alex gently pulls away from Oscar, nuzzling into his neck before loosening his hold with a final peck on the cheek.

Oscar, still curled against Alex, hiccups for breath as he slumps into Alex’s chest, wiggling to get comfortable again—only to stop when Alex playfully swats his thigh.

Oscar then looks over at Charles, his lips puffy and slick, eyes glassy with arousal, and a sweet blush dusting his cheeks. With an innocent, “Good?” he asks.

“Ye-yeah! Very good, chéri , I didn’t see that coming,” Charles responds, stuttering slightly in his admission. Oscar, smiling cutely, picks up the bottle and spins it, ready to continue the game after his little performance.

💈 Previous Parts of the Series 💈

Chapter 1 - Angel

Chapter 2 - Hunter?

Chapter 3- Sunburn

Let me know what you think 💋

[djarins-cyare]

WIP Wednesday

Well, the Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge deadline is fast approaching, and I’m 6 chapters and 18k words into what has turned into something waaay lengthier than it started out! So sorry, teacher, I think I’m gonna need an extension on my homework deadline.

Meanwhile, throughout September, I’ve been tagged in various WIP posts by @the-mandawhor1an, @burntheedges, @nerdieforpedro, and @for-a-longlongtime (thank you all 💚), so under the cut, you’ll find a little midweek offering of my now somewhat out-of-control Secret Relationship trope fic...

***If you haven’t already, you may wish to read my first WIP post before the one below, as this one references the earlier one.***

“He raised you?” Mando sounds incredulous. “Why is that weird?” He sighs. “It’s not. Well… it might be. Sleeping with the guy’s niece was one thing, but you’re like his kid—” “Stop there,” you demand with steely ferocity. “First, I am not a kid in any sense. I don’t need to see your face to guess you’re not that much older than me. And, like you, I’m an adult and can make my own decisions, so no kid references, please. Second, whatever his reasons are for keeping us apart, they don’t matter because once I leave here, none of this ever happened. Right?” Your mini tirade is met first with silence, then a chuckle. “Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” His amusement diffuses your mock indignation, and you smirk. “You kind of have to be when you grow up here. You don’t think you can handle me?” You shift a little closer to him on the couch. “Oh, mesh’la,” he drawls, his voice casual but with a fiendish edge. “I’m a bounty hunter by trade. You think I haven’t dealt with people far wilder than you?” Kriff, yeah. There’s that confidence you saw last night when he indirectly requested an orgasm before you went to bed. Sure, it’s nice to know that there’s a sweet and awkward guy beneath the warrior exterior, but this is what you find attractive in him. The confident, intimidating hunter. You visibly shiver and press your thighs together at the thought, and he chuckles darkly. Yeah, you just gave away your desires. Still, he doesn’t move yet. You feel like he’s waiting to pounce… emphasis on the waiting. “Okay then, Mandalorian,” you goad with your head held high, almost daring him. “Show me what you’ve got.” There’s a pause as he tilts his helmet slightly, and it lingers for long enough that you start to wonder whether you said the wrong thing. You were just keeping up the banter. Why has he suddenly gone silent? A few more moments pass, and your second-guessing becomes mildly frantic. But as you bite your lip and furrow your brow, Mando releases a deep hum and rumbles, “Mm… better.” Suddenly, you realise. This is not a contest of wits, and he’s not in the mood for sexual banter. He wants to be in charge this time. Well, you were in control last night, and he did say he would pay you back. Plus, he’s spent a whole cycle being unable to control anything due to his injuries. It’s becoming clearer how he sees this going. And you’re very much on board. Now that you understand, you try again. Tucking your chin down, you look up at him through your lashes and soften your tone. “Please, Mando…” “Mm, good girl,” he praises, and heat sparks to life in both your chest and your cunt. “Please, what? What do you want?” You think back to the dialogue that led to the blow job. “Please, will you make me come?” At last, he moves, reaching for your lower thigh and running his palm slowly upward, leaving flames in its wake. “My helmet stays on at all times, non-negotiable. If you touch it, this stops, understand?” “I understand.” Apparently, lifting it to help him drink last night was a one-time deal. “Good. Then, yes, cyar’ika, I’ll make you come.”

Tagging the folks who showed interest in my first snippet as well as those on my permanent tag list. Those of you who write/create and would like to share something with the class, please feel free to do any type of WIP post (Wednesday, weekend, weekday, whatever) if the mood takes you, no pressure 💚

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[firstprincehornyramblings]

Hello yall! I'm getting a head start and queueing this extra early (its technically Wednesday for me right now) Once again, under the cut, for length reasons, and nsfw reasons <3

------------- PWP Dom Henry and Free Use Alex

“You are not going to cum yet, Alexander. Calm down,” the blond hissed, “Or call a color,” he added in a quiet voice. “N-no, I can.. I can calm down,” Alex whined, “That’s so cold,” his voice was soft and pathetic, “I just wanted to cum.” “But you won’t, not till I say you can, not till I’m done with you,” Henry reiterated, “Because you want to be good for me. And Alex? You are a good boy, you’re the best boy, and you are not going to let me down.” “I’m good, I’ll be good for you… W-wanna be good for you so bad, Hen,” Alex cried.   “That’s what I thought,” Henry purred, “Just a moment more,” he said before leaning closer to press a kiss to the side of Alex’s thigh, “Let’s get those balls nice and cold, it’ll take you a minute to warm up, hm? That should take some of the need away.” “Yeah,” Alex nearly sobbed, but his cheeks were dry, no tears falling, “Thank you for helping me be a good boy.”

---

GEORGE THOUGHTS (Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this fic are those of George Villier’s and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the author.)

“Good boy, you’re my favorite,” it was whispered against a sweat soaked temple, and for the day at least it was true. His hand fell to his own thigh, fingers wiping through the slick there and bringing them to his own lips. He sucked at those fingers, salt and bitterness on his tongue, his opposite hand falling to the pet still kissing his neck. With one shove he pushed them aside, “Wine,” he murmured against his own fingers. He couldn’t help but smile hearing ‘yes master’ leave the young woman’s lips. A delicate hand placed behind his head, leaning it up as a cup was placed to his lips, wine poured into his mouth. Sweetness burned down his throat as he tilted his chin up to signal he was finished drinking. That lover was rewarded with a hard kiss, the last swallow of wine in his mouth pushed into hers, their tongues intertwining as vermillion ran down their chins.

--- Client Alex and Hairstylist Hen

“W-wait, what?” Alex stammered, “You’re…leaving? You’re not going to even let me get you off?” He was pulling himself off that wall some but resting a hand behind his back for steadiness. “But wait, didn’t you come here to like- prove me wrong? You have to do that, right?” he asked, clearly grasping for straws. “Ah, right, smart thinking,” Henry nodded, undoing his own pants, and lifting his shirt half up. It was just enough for Alex to see the soft tummy that was creating a slight muffin top above those pants. The brunette found it entirely grabbable, but Henry didn’t seem to notice the intense stare. Instead, he pushed the front of his pants and underwear down, resting them on the base of his own cock. He was visibly hard, and yet all he did was show Alex the tawny pubic hair there, “Blond, see, you were wrong, I was being honest,” he hummed, before fixing his pants into place again. Alex was still staring in awe, as if everything happening amazed him, “I… you’re really leaving? What if I say that you seem like the kind of guy who’d dye your pubes too?” “Then I’d tell you to fuck off,” the blond said matter-of-factly.

YAY TAGS (no pressure tags darlings)

@taste-thewaste @eusuntgratie @henrysfox @mikibwrites

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

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@onthewaytosomewhere @anti-homophobia-cheese @thighzp + literally anyone else I'm sleepy and forgot, or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[lulublack90]

Prompt 23 - Two

@rosekillermicrofic September 23, word count 746

Previous part First Jegulus part

“I swear this is taking longer to do than it did to steal them!” Barty grunted as he carried another stack of books up the narrow staircase. He dumped them at Sirius’s feet, who had somehow wormed his way out of helping bring them up by saying he was the only one who knew how Regulus liked them ordered on the shelves. Barty thought it was a load of bullshit, but Sirius had been amazing today, so he let him off. 

Finally, the van was empty and Barty flung himself on Regulus’s new sofa. He let his head loll back and his eyes closed, he was exhausted. 

“What’s in the boxes?” Remus asked, pointing at the collection of stacked cardboard boxes. 

“The rest of Regulus’s clothes and knick-knacks,” Barty supplied, yawning widely. “I’ll deal with them in a minute. I know just how Regulus likes to fold his shirts,” He cracked an eye to see if Sirius reacted. 

“Don’t lie, Barty, you just want to get your hands on Reggie’s underwear,” Sirius snorted at him. Barty couldn’t help it. He laughed too.

“Aww, he already knows me so well,” Barty snickered. “Hey, Evan?” He craned his neck so he could see his boyfriend. “What do you think about the other Black Brother for our threesome instead of Reggie? I bet Sirius has stamina. Look at those thighs! Hey, Remus, how big’s his—” Barty ducked as a hardback copy of War and Peace flew at his head. 

“Go manhandle my brother's briefs and leave me alone,” Sirius ordered. 

“Yes, darling. Keep talking to me like that, and I’ll be yours forever,” He cackled as he fled the room before any more classic literature could be used as a weapon. 

Regulus’s bedroom was neat and tidy when Barty entered and, after a few minutes, it was total chaos. He’d dragged all the drawers out and the wardrobe doors were wide open. Clothes were everywhere. He’d dragged the boxes in and the contents of two of them were thrown across the bed in a heap. He really needed Evan’s help. “Evan?” He asked, popping his head around the corner where he spotted Evan looking quite cosy on the sofa with Remus, discussing something or other. Evan looked up and rolled his eyes at the pleading look on Barty’s face.

“How bad is it?” He asked. 

“Bad,” Barty replied. 

“Excuse me, Remus, the gremlin was let loose,” Barty would have stuck his tongue out at the comment, but he was too worried that Evan wouldn’t help him if he did. 

Evan walked into the room and surveyed the mess Barty had made. “How? How have you made so much mess in less than five minutes?!” Evan sighed in exasperation. “Go and sit in that corner and don’t move,” Barty dutifully did as he was told and watched Evan work his magic. 

Soon, Evan put everything back to rights and all the rescued clothes were put away as well. “Right, you, go take those boxes down to the recycling, and then you can see if anyone wants a drink,” Evan ordered. Barty didn’t backchat and did as instructed. By the time he got back up to the flat, Sirius had filled the bookcases and neatly stacked the overflow beside them. 

“Does anybody want a drink?” He asked. They all nodded and gave him their orders, thankful that they were easy ones, and went into the kitchen to find the kettle already boiled. 

When he came back through with the tea tray, Sirius was on the phone. 

“Sure, Mum, I’ll ask,” Sirius moved the phone to his chest and asked. “Do you guys want to come over to the Potter’s for dinner tomorrow night? Effie says she wants to thank you both and would love it if you’d join us,” Barty looked at Evan, unsure. 

“Pandora’s going,” Remus added, and that decided it for them. If Panda was going, they would. 

“Please,” They said in unison, and Sirius conveyed the message to Effie. Evan sat down and dragged Barty with him. Barty snuggled into Evan’s side and felt his eyelids drooping again. Evan would wake him up when the tea was ready to drink, so he didn’t fight it and was overjoyed when Evan’s fingers found his hair as he continued the conversation he was having with Remus. Barty fell into a doze, excited to see Regulus’s face when he got home and saw all of his belongings squashed into his flat.  

Next part

[epic-kotlc-crossover]

Polyphemus

Hey guys! The first chapter of the Cyclops saga is here!!!

Tags: @myfairkatiecat @ham-cheese-toastie @bookwormgirl123 @thesfromhms @justalunaticfangirl (let us know if you want to be tagged in the future!)

After Athena faded away, Fitz’s vision sharpened back to reality. They were approaching an island, and even from this far away, the whole fleet could hear the Bla-ah-ah-ah! Blah-ah-ah-ah! of the sheep. There must be hundreds, just grazing peacefully, unaware of the men docking below them. 

There was a bit of a climb to reach the fields, but it was so, so worth it. Fitz transmitted orders to the small crew he had taken up with him, not wanting to disturb the tranquil silence. They obeyed, silently killing enough sheep to feed the crew for at least a month.

Keefe whispered, “I have to hand it to you and Dex. This is quite the treat.”

Fitz leaned closer, “I don’t trust this. Why would the lotus-eaters pass up on all of this food?”

Suddenly the ground started to shake beneath the sailors’ feet. Thump! Thump! Thump! 

Were those…footsteps? 

“Who are you?” An impossibly deep rumbling voice asked. Dread crept into Fitz’s mind, but he pushed it aside. He had to show this monster that he wasn’t afraid of it. 

Stay calm! Fitz transmitted his group. They nodded, hands ready to grab their weapons. 

“Hey there!” Fitz shouted. “We come in peace. We’re just travelers looking for food.” The monster wasn’t in sight yet, so Fitz really hoped it wasn’t getting mad.

“You killed my sheep.” It was a statement, not a question. “These were my favorite sheep. What gives you the right to deal me this pain?

“Don’t you know that the pain you cause others will be reflected upon yourself? Your life is in MY hands now.”

The monster slowly lumbered into sight. It was a Cyclops. But not just any Cyclops….

This was Polyphemus, the biggest of the beasts to walk the earth. His giant– singular– eye glared down at the mortals. Fitz could imagine the sound of his army being crunched in his massive jaw. His teeth were pointed to a sharp edge, and–was that dried blood? He hoped not. 

“When I’m through with you, you’ll regret ever setting foot on my island. You came to my home to steal, and now you’ll become my meal. A trade, you see? I’ll take from you like you took from me.”

“There’s been a misunderstanding! We never came here to steal! Now that we know these sheep were yours, perhaps you and I can make a deal? I’ll give you our finest treasure, as long as you let us leave here alive!” He called. Polyphemus loomed over him, considering.

“What is this treasure?” He boomed. 

“The world’s best-tasting wine!” Fitz answered. Keefe glanced over, confusion in his ice-blue gaze. 

Fitz took a moment to say, Trust me. I know what I’m doing, before turning back to the Cyclops. 

“Wine?” the beast said suspiciously.

Fitz pulled the bottle from his satchel, handing it to the monster. The bottle was barely as big as Polyphemus’s finger, but he still looked delighted.

“Have a drink!” Fitz said, “Take one sip and you’ll understand how lucky you are to have this. It’s wine so fresh, you’ll never want to eat human flesh again!”

Polyphemus downed the bottle in one sip, hurling the glass into the sea when he was finished. 

“Now we’ll be on our way with no blood spilled here today,” Fitz said. Keefe looked like he couldn’t believe that had actually worked, and Fitz had a similar feeling.

“Wait! Before you go I must ask you: What is your name?”

Fitz panicked. He couldn’t tell the beast the truth. So he raised his head and calmly said, “My name is Nobody.”

“Nobody,” Polyphemus repeated slowly. “I must pay you back for this gift.”

“I’m so glad we see eye to eye,” Fitz said with a smile. 

“Yes, you shall be the final man to DIE.”

“What?” Fitz asked, shock quieting his voice. A moment later, Polyphemus stepped closer to the crew. Fitz got a sinking feeling in his gut. Keefe glanced at his captain, clearly trying to ask “What are we going to do?” without words.

Fitz only had one answer. As loud as he could, he screamed, “WATCH OUT!”

[birdinabowl]

90’s Greg is so cool, I can’t tell if I want him or I want his gender

[iwillstabyou]

What am I doing right now you may ask?

I’m rewatching chasing shadows again of course :D

DS Sean Stone is one of the characters of all time ever. He’s legit just like me fr (aka autistic in the same way as me). I love him

[archduke-enver-gortash]

would gort call eke his little lamb as well. he would wouldn’t he

[3584-tropical-fish]

for the ask game, 24 and 4 perhaps??? :D

whats a compliment about your art that has always stuck with you?

Oh gosh, everything that anyone has ever said, really. But I feel like i have to just. <33333!!!!! about anything tumblr user camlannpod has said about my art for their show. I love drawing Camlann art and it makes me so happy that I can return that happiness to them!! Everyone listen to Camlann right now. It’s so good

piece you wish got more love?

I had to think for a minute but you know what? The TMA clue board I made with my friends. I don’t think that showed up in the tags, but we put. So Much effort into that and I had really wished that more people would see it. Lia especially made an absolutely STUNNING board for it, and I was really happy with all the cards I made!! It’s also just so fun to play. We get dressed up and I bake something and make tea/hot chocolate. Highly recommend. Posts about it here and here :D

[b33t-r00t]

Cai and City make me feel good and normal about my body.

Thank you 👍🏾<3

It means a lot that you’d share that with me, thank you anon <3

[trashbaget]

tell me your failed/embarrassing flirting stories to make me feel better, i’ll go first: today i said “get out of my way” forgot to say “i’m kidding” then immediately said “bye”