#if your wondering about don….hes just their roommate..

[animationismycomfort]

sooooo…..if I made three well known families in the sims 4 get together through the parents would y’all be mad

[baronessvonglitter]

Pretty Please

QZ!Joel Miller x f!bookworm!reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: your roommate Joel Miller is stressed out, and you offer a creative solution to ease that frustration

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, slight bullying (name calling - from Joel), reader is a bookworm and wears glasses, no age description for reader, Boston QZ, friends with benefits, oral sex (f receiving), soft!Joel, sub!Joel, dom/sub themes, edging, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, Joel loves nerdy girls, reader is *shaved*, no use of y/n

Author's Note: I know that we all love a good strong DOM Joel, but I wanted to wade in the waters of the Ocean of Possibilities and see what a more submissive Joel would be like. Just like those CEO/investment banker types who visit dominatrices at the end of a long workday just to be treated like lesser than and hand over the reins of power for a bit. Maybe there's a part of Joel that likes being put in his place 🤫

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

It's just past curfew in the QZ and you're curled up with a good book. The new (to you) apartment you live in came with a great collection of literary masterpieces and your only delight in this cold, cruel world is reading by flashlight, at least until your surly, sourpuss roommate Joel Miller comes home.

The front door opens and slams shut loudly, making the thin walls vibrate. You sigh. He's back.

Joel walks in, looking tired and cantankerous as usual. You quickly shut off your light but not before he sees it. "What have I told you about wastin' the batteries?" he puts his hands on his hips, glaring at you.

Not in a mood to argue, you mumble a quick "Sorry" and scurry past him, but he catches your shoulder. "Just 'cause I can get stuff doesn't mean I will. You need to be more careful with our supplies.. what's this stuff you're readin' anyway?" He makes a grab for your book which you quickly hide behind your back.

"Just some Shakespeare," you lie.

Joel narrows his eyes as if detecting your fib. Suddenly he pulls you toward him and takes the book you're hiding. Eyeing the cover, he visibly blushes and swallows hard. "What's a nice girl like you readin' trash like this for?"

You find it impossible to meet his eyes as your heart roars in your ears. He has your copy of romantic erotica, an old book written decades ago about a woman who trains her lover to be her sex slave. You think to yourself there's no way you can finish it now that he's judging you.

"All right, Bookworm. Out," Joel says, nodding towards the hall before he settles in with a stiff whiskey drink.

Sighing you go to your room. Ever since you moved in a couple months ago after your former QZ was abandoned, Joel has treated you like little more than an imposition. His seemingly affectionate nicknames of "Bookworm" or "Four Eyes" on account of your fondness for books and your need of eyeglasses, respectively, has you wondering if he even cares to remember your real name.

Putting your book away you contemplate another existence. In your story a young woman brings a powerful man to his knees. Had the world not changed so irrevocably, would you have had the fortune of living a life like the characters in your books?

A shower is in order. Once you wash your hair and shave your legs (with shampoo and razors that Joel begrudgingly smuggled for you when you'd politely asked) your spirits are lifted. Hair towel-dried, you put on an oversize tee and some panties and start down the hall where you bump into Joel. He takes a look at your sleepwear and you can see the blush creep up his neck. "Can you put somethin' else on? I can see right through your shirt."

You look down and see your nipples, two puckered points through the cotton of your tee. "I'm just going to bed. Besides, I can wear what I want," you say in an unusually defiant tone.

Joel gets quiet, his body language clearly showing he's getting annoyed. "I just don't want to see you half-naked, Four Eyes." His frustration comes through clear. "Don't you have anything else you can wear?"

You sigh and walk past him to your bedroom closet and pull out a thick flannel shirt. You change with your back to him, feeling his eyes on you like two burning holes in your flesh. His breath hitches, eyes glued to his old shirt he'd let you borrow a time or two. Something primal awakens in him, which he quickly squashes.

"I'm all out of clean pajama pants," you shrug.

"Find some," he says sternly. "That shirt's gonna ride up on you. It's inappropriate."

"No." You stand your ground. "I'm not changing again." You take a moment to look at him, really look at him. He looks stiff, the veins prominent in his neck and forehead. You imagine his warm flesh beneath your kiss, and part of you softens towards him. "You really need to relax. You look stressed."

"Yeah, like you really give a shit," he mutters, looking away.

Studying him more intensely you realize he's not frustrated because you're not obeying him. From the bulge in his jeans it's evident he's turned on by you. Joel Miller is a good-looking guy when he's not being a full-on jerk. Hell, he may even be good-looking then. You take the situation into your hands and approach him, your tongue gliding over your lips. "I could help you relax.. if you want."

Joel freezes and you notice his breathing quicken. "What.. what do you mean by that?"

"You're upset with my lack of 'decent' clothes because I'm a distraction to you. Even if you don't like me, you're still attracted to me."

He gets flustered and it gives you satisfaction to see how much power you have over him. "Maybe.. no. I don't want to. I mean it. I have no interest in anything like that with you."

"Really? Your jeans are having a different reaction."

He looks down quickly, embarrassed and a bit surprised. "It doesn't mean anything," he looks askance.

"Do you want to touch me, Joel?" You start to unbutton your flannel shirt.

"You're my roommate. It's wrong," he says, yet his large, strong hands are reaching into your shirt. His fingers are rough and calloused but damn they feel like heaven as he cups your breasts, runs his thumbs slowly over your nipples.

"Don't think anymore, Joel. Just feel. Just be here with me."

He's unused to following his purely bodily instincts, having to live on his survival instincts for so long. But your skin is so soft and you're so warm and clean from your shower. "God, I want you," he whispers.

You take the lead and kiss him, filling in the space between you. Joel doesn't hold back, cupping your ass in his hands and pressing you to his need, his bulge in direct contact with your clit. Your panties dampen in response. Realizing how far he's taken it, how far he wants to take it, he mumbles an apology. "S..sorry."

"No. No apologies. I want this. Don't you?"

"God yes," he growls, meeting your eyes. He watches, rapt, as you slowly unbutton your shirt and remove it. He's speechless as you go to sit on the edge of the bed, knees parted. You beckon him with one finger.

"I know you've always wanted this," you tell him. "You fantasize about eating me out, how good I taste on your tongue."

As he comes to you he wonders where the shy, docile woman has gone. But he likes this new version of you. "How do you know what I think about?" he asks as his fingers curl into the waistband of your panties. You lift your hips as he eases your panties off. What he sees makes him growl with yearning. "You shaved."

You rest on your elbows, satisfied with the look of sheer gluttony on his face. "A girl's gotta have some luxuries in these trying times.." you smirk and run your fingers delicately over your clit and your smooth folds. Joel moves your hand away. Keeping his eyes on you he laps his broad tongue over your delicate womanhood, then swipes his tongue side to side over your sweet little clit.

You moan loudly at the intimate contact, threading your fingers through his hair. Joel devours you, and the little moans he makes reverberate through you, fill you with vibrations. While he's sucking your clit he slides two fingers in, crooking them so they rub your G-spot, and this combination makes you squirm with delight until you're pushed over the edge. He doesn't stop there, lapping up your honey, holding your thighs as they quake around his head.

"I've wanted this for so long," he growls against your belly, kissing his way up, divesting himself of his clothes. He feels your body heat radiate against him and teases your opening with the tip of his cock, spreading your slick onto him. He kisses both breasts, nuzzles your neck before claiming your mouth again, lining himself up with you. Out of habit you remove your glasses but he stops you. "Leave them on," he whispers. "You look so damn hot, like a naughty schoolgirl.." He watches as you put them on again, your eyes big and bright behind the lenses. Keeping his eyes on you he lets himself sink into your heat, slowly, letting you get accustomed to his size.

"Fuck," you whisper in awe as he fills you, starts to move against you.

He revels in the feel of your soft body underneath his, the snugness of your cunt that dares to take every inch of him. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, taking in the clean scent of your freshly washed skin, the natural fragrance of your arousal. With each press forward he elicits moans, sighs, gasps. Your heart thunders within when you feel how deeply you're joined.

"I need more," you tell him. "Please.."

"More?" His voice is shaky with desire.

"Harder," you gasp.

A dark growl gathers in his throat as he sees this new side of you begin to reveal itself. "You sure you want that from me?"

You nod. "I want you to release all your stress out inside me. Just use me. Please." You look up at him with innocent eyes. "Just for tonight, Joel. Tonight I'm yours."

His body looms large over you. "That's a big request, y'know."

"And I can handle it. I'm a big girl."

He nods, excitement flowing through his veins. "If anything becomes too much, you tell me. Okay?"

Your heart flip flops when he tells you this. Despite this random hookup, he's proving to be a caring gentleman. "I'll tell you, I promise."

Joel can't help but smile and he kisses your forehead. "Good." With heavy breaths he uses all his strength to fuck you into oblivion. He takes out his frustrations on your willing, eager body, his thick, large cock plunging into your tight cunt. "I'm gonna fuckin' tear you apart," he mutters.

His rough way with you takes your breath away, makes you tremble. Joel doesn't hold back, ruts against you, mouth watering as he watches your breasts bounce with each thrust. "God, you're gorgeous," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss you.

You whimper as your mouths meet again, tongues dancing against each other. "Joel.. you're so fucking good."

Grunting in response, he presses against you deeper, harder. You gasp, your body accepting every movement, stretching you more than you thought possible. "You feel too good," he moans.

"You're in.. so deep," you sigh. "Just a little more, I'm gonna--"

"Wait!" he groans, pulling himself away from you. "You're making me.. almost.. I can't hold back," he breathes heavily.

"Shh.." you climb onto his lap. "Let me help you. I'll do all the work," you promise. "All you have to do is grab my hips or touch my breasts," you instruct him, lining up his cock to fit into you again. Joel watches himself disappear between your swollen pussy lips.

"God.. slow.. please," he grunts, grabbing hold of your hips, moving his hands all over your body, exploring every inch of you.

"Yes," you agree, sighing sweetly. "You feel so good.. I like seeing what I can get out of you, Miller."

He lets out a short moan, gripping your hips tightly, running his fingers up the insides of your thighs. His touch is ubiquitous as you ride him slowly and thoroughly. "Please don't stop.. please don't stop." He tries to make it a command but he's so caught up in you that it comes off as begging. "God I want.. please, I need.." he can't even finish his sentences for how much his lust and need has taken over him.

"I know what you need," you moan, moving faster, slamming your hips down on his. The sounds of your colliding flesh fill the room.

"God damn it!" Joel grunts, unable to continue his line of thought. He starts to growl and groan, gritting his teeth.

You smile, biting your lip as you watch him coming apart, completely helpless beneath you. "I'm gonna tame this beast," you tell him boldly. "No one else can do it but me."

"I won't let anyone else handle me," he growls, trying to say something more meaningful, but his brain is overwhelmed. He's just handed over all control to you and it's making him crazy. "Just.. please.."

You stop moving altogether, staying still. "Please what?" you tease him from finishing.

He's about to blow but he can't even get a full sentence out. "Please," he repeats, shaking now just from the feel of you. "Don't stop.."

You remain still. "Say, 'pretty please.'"

"No," he groans. "You.. you won't get me like that." But there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Oh," you pout. "That's a shame. I was getting so close and I know you were, too." You start moving slowly and teasingly.

Joel's breath is faltering, pulse dangerously rapid. "Not like this.. wait.. I'm gonna.."

You stop again, a stern look on your face even though you're utterly enjoying dominating this big strong alpha male. "No. You're not," you command him.

Only able to communicate in grunts and groans, Joel thrusts upward, needing the relief that would make you both find release. You gasp, your cunt clenching around him. It would be so easy to just let him keep going, but you hold your hips firmly in place. "'Pretty please,'" you remind him.

"I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum," he whines, desperate now, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

You remove his grip and pin him down. "'Pretty. Please.'" Your lips are millimeters from his, and you can see tears start to well in his dark eyes.

He's losing it now. He's right on the precipice, pain and pleasure mixed as one while you edge him. "All right, okay, I'll say it.. pretty please," he grunts out, voice cracking.

"'Pretty please with sugar on top,'" you smirk. "Say it."

Joel shuts his eyes in frustration. "Pretty please with sugar on top."

You give his lips a tiny lick. "Good boy." Sitting up again you start riding him. You've won but you're both going to reap the benefits.

"God, keep goin'," he moans, eyes still shut, breath labored as he pushes against your hips.

"I'm gonna fucking break you, Miller," you growl, riding him at top speed, without mercy.

Joel is at a complete loss of self, having lost any semblance of control. "Do it.. please," are the only words he can manage among incoherent sounds and grunts as he rises up to hold you.

You feel the friction between you like lightning as you satisfy yourself on his generous cock. "Joel Miller, you're such a good boy for me!" You move against each other in desperation, seeking the moment that will bring you to cum together. You feel him start to twitch and just then your climax hits like a tidal wave. You scream his name as you feel his copious release inside you. All Joel can say is your name, your real name, uttered in an entreaty of gratitude as he buries his face in your neck.

"Sorry if I got a little rough with you before.." he mumbles into your skin.

"I like your roughness," you tell him as you ruffle his soft grey hair with your fingers. "You had a lot that you needed to let out."

He lifts his head and softly kisses the side of your mouth. "Just so you know, I don't intend on stoppin' at just tonight. I have a lot of stress that needs releasing."

"Stressful times we're living in.." You trace his beard with your fingertips and he quickly moves in to kiss your palm.

"Damn right. And it looks like you did tame this beast."

You grin. "Does that make me Beauty?"

"Maybe that's what I'll call you from now on.."

"It's a lot better than 'Bookworm' or 'Four Eyes'."

"I'll still call you those things, from time to time," he grins, and your entire body is warm from his smile.

You are delicate with him now, knowing this man will probably steal your heart just as you've already stolen his.

divider by @saradika 👑

[wishful-sinful-9]

WANNA BE YOUR DOG

Chapter One

Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader

Chapters | Masterlist

Winter already has its icy grip on the world outside, but in this bar, it’s as hot as the equator.

There wasn’t a shot in hell you would’ve picked this job - bartending in a sketchy underground cage-fighting joint - if it weren't for sheer desperation. Sweaty bodies packed tightly together. Impatient men demanding service everywhere you turn. Grunts and shouts and wails of pain from the cage.

When the fighting was over, the majority of patrons stumbling out the door, you could finally breathe. Wipe down the bartop, wipe away the night.

“Hey, bub, can I get a beer?”

The Wolverine heaves his weary body on a barstool and makes his usual request - the bar owners’ main source of income, the undefeatable beast of a man got a drink free after striking every opponent down with a few swings of his fist. The body hit the floor; another bet was won.

“Here you go.” You avoid his gaze as you pass him the bottle. He grunts his thanks.

A few months ago, you lost your previous job, though fortunately you had a roommate to cover your half of the rent until you found another. Unfortunately, said roommate had already planned on moving out around that same time. Therefore this sad little nightly routine was the only means of avoiding homelessness. What would your parents think, if they were to see you in this dingy, overtly illegal, shithole of a bar? You smile slightly at the thought as you dry off a glass.

Sensing eyes on you, you glance up to meet the Wolverine’s dark gaze, expressionlessly trained on you. Heat creeps into your cheeks and you turn away to pick up another glass.

–

“Shit, shit, shit!”

You slam your car door shut behind you, aborting your fruitless attempts to start it. You wrap your fleece-lined jacket tightly around yourself as you glare at the crappy old piece of metal and go over your options. Option, singular. Walk down a pitch-black icy road. You cuss again and ram a boot into the door.

“You alright there?” A gruff voice from behind startles you.

Turning around, you’re met with the looming presence of the cage fighter, donning a motorcycle jacket, the high collar and angular shoulders making him look even more intimidating. He looks at you with a raised brow.

“Er - well - no, not really,” you stammer out, “my car won’t start.”

“Oh.”

He remains several feet away from you, as if approaching a wild animal. You scuff the toe of your shoe in the gravel like a shy schoolgirl. “Yeah. Um…”

“Would you like a ride?”

He’s offering you a ride.

You shouldn’t. This is a dangerous man; a fighter for a living. And beyond that, you had reason to suspect he might not be just a man. You were sceptical of the idea of mutants, but after watching him take many a vicious blow and emerging without so much as a scrape, you had good reason to believe you were in the presence of one. So you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t get into the scary guy’s car. Even if your teeth were chattering and your toes numb in your boots. You shouldn’t.

If your parents would be terrified at the sight of your workplace, they’d faint at the sight of you meekly accepting the Wolverine’s offer.

You put all associations of kidnappers with white vans out of your head as you follow him to his. You jam your hands deep into your pockets and clench your jaw tight to prevent the audible chattering. Once in the passenger seat, you breathe a small sigh of relief when the first thing he does after switching on the ignition is turn the heater all the way up.

“Put your hands on it so they can warm up.” He grumbles. You oblige. “Why don’t you have gloves on?”

“I think I left them in my car,” you reply, feeling somewhat foolish. You wonder if making other people feel about two inches tall was a hobby of his or an unconscious habit.

He says nothing. He doesn’t turn the radio on. His eyes remain trained on the road ahead. You glance at him once or twice, but his expression is blank and his mouth is clamped shut. Behind you, you are aware of the narrow bed and minimalistic living set up that brings to you a wave of affection for your one-storey rental that has caused you so much grief these past few months. You had always assumed cage fighting must be pure sport to him, and that there was some daytime job he worked to support himself, but now you're beginning to wonder if his sole income is the bets placed on his fists.

He parks a little way down the opposite side of the road as there are cars in front of your house. You pause with your hand on the door handle, watching him scan the area before grunting, “Iʼll walk you in.”

You fumble with the latch on your gate, letting your hair sweep over your face to disguise your rosy cheeks when he leans over you to do it himself. Taking extra care not to slip on your doorsteps and make an even bigger fool of yourself, you jiggle your key into the lock and turn to face…you don’t know his real name. Oh god.

“Thank you so, so much…”

“Logan.”

“Yes! Logan. Thank you Logan.” You give him an awkward smile as he nods his head, again, expressionless.

He grunts a humble “no problem,” and turns to walk away as you step halfway over the threshold. Your mind returns to his van. The sorry little bed that you’re quite frankly surprised can support his broad stature. Before you can psych yourself out of it, you blurt out: “Wait! I have a spare room?”

He halts, caught off guard. “What?”

“If you wanted to stay the night,” you cringe at the words as you say them, “since you went through the trouble of taking me home. You're welcome to. If you want.”

The silence is deafening. He blinks at you and the sudden urge to shoot yourself in the head is overwhelming. Oh my god, what am I think-

“Alright. If it’s okay.”

–

Naturally, he’d gone to fetch a change of clothes and a toothbrush, and you took the few minutes to shove stray underwear in your laundry basket, bin the empty bottle of wine on your kitchen counter, and clear away the pile of well-loved makeup products cluttering the bathroom sink. You mentally cursed yourself for living like the cover of the Stereotypical Sad Single Female magazine.

A new wave of embarrassment washed over you when you showed him to your roommate’s old room, the bed still made in the comically girly pink floral sheets she had left behind. “Very feminine.” he’d commented.

When you’d hastily excused yourself to bed, you let out a long, self-loathing groan into your pillow.

–

It’s six-thirty in the morning, a blasphemous hour to be awake at, and Logan is trying to be quiet on the other side of the wall, in spite of his ridiculously heavy footsteps. You lie awake as he shuffles to the bathroom, wait until the shower is on, then haul yourself out of bed because part of you worries he'll sneak out like a guilty one-night stand without you getting the chance to atleast make him coffee.

By the time he’s emerged, dressed, from the bathroom you've managed to stick some bacon in a pan and made a pot of coffee. He seems taken aback, and it makes you far more comfortable to know that there's one emotion that can display itself on his stoic face: surprise.

“Sorry if I woke you up.” He glances at you as you set his plate on the table.

“It’s fine,” you reply, sitting opposite. Now that the Wolverine is sat at your dainty kitchen table, he seems less like a man-bashing beast and more like a stray dog you've ushered into your home. Thoughtfully, you begin to eat, suddenly feeling far more able to look at him directly. “Can I ask you something?”

He stops, looking at you slowly. “Ask me what?”

Now or never. You inhale deeply and softly say, “How come you never have a single bruise to show for those beatings you take?”

A pause. He chews his bacon and swallows it carefully, analysing your face.

“Do you really want to know?” his voice is low and eyes narrow. You nod. With a sigh, he sets down his cutlery and lifts a fist - the swift sound of sharp metal being unsheathed cuts through the domestic morning quiet as three knife-like claws protrude from his knuckles. Your eyes widen and your knife and fork clatter onto your plate.

“You’re a-”

“This metal runs through me. I think it’s attached to my skeleton.” He explains, rotating his fist so you can better gawk at the claws. “I can also heal extremely fast. There’s other things too, like my sense of smell being advanced…”

“Like a wolverine,” you say, “apt name.”

He grunts and you absent-mindedly lift a finger to touch the deadly metal, “They’re sharp.” he snaps, retracting them. You sit back quickly. He clears his throat. “Sorry. Just didn't want you to…”

“It’s okay. Ahem…”

You don’t dare ask another question despite the many that were whirring in your mind, feeling that the tension has risen once more surrounding the subject. The two of you eat, in silence again.

Once he has his shoes and jacket on, you show him to the door. In spite of the information revealed at the table, somehow his presence makes you a little less nervous than it did the previous night. He falters in the threshold, turning to you.

“Thanks, for letting me stay and everything,” he says. “You didn’t have to.”

You smile lightly, “It’s no problem, really. Thank you for the ride home.”

He nods, “See you, then.”

“See you, Logan.”

You watch him from the window in your door as he crosses the street, lighting up a cigar. If your parents could see you now.

a/n: so sorry for this shaky writing 😭 this is my first time working on a series and I suckkk at starting things so sorry if this falls a little flat - might go back and re-edit when I'm not so tired but oh well! if you'd like to be tagged in the next part please let me know :))

@fallout-girl219 @viviannagiorgini

[noellefan101]

Offline to Online

Summary: your boyfriend is a streamer, a popular one at that. this is a fic about: how their chat find out that you are dating, how they treat you off-stream and on-stream/do they treat you differently

Warnings: swearing, mentioning of death threats and killing(Scaramouche), streamer reader(Scaramouche), slight ooc, if there is anything else then pls tell me

Characters: Xiao, Childe, Venti, Scaramouche, Aether

Note: I am trying my best ok, and I'm kinda new to Tumblr, so if it isn't to your liking then leave, please./I´m sorry if you can´t understand what I´m writing, bc neither can I/. btw this is later than I originally intended bc it got deleted when I was almost DONE, like seriously. so I have like no motivation left now, yay :(

Xiao

How Chat Found Out: You two were roommates, or that´s what his chat thought anyways. Because you two lived together that was what you told them and most believed that so you thought it was fine/Xiao is shy and lied about you two dating when they asked, and then you just lied too cus you are the best(I mean that with my whole heart).

but one day when you were out with some of your friends, and Xiao was streaming at home with Zhongli(in this story Xiao´s adoptive father) some girl suddenly came up to you and started yelling at you because apparently you took her "boyfriend" away, you and your friends got confused and just let her be after, she had yelled at you for about 2 min. a little later you called Xiao and explained what happened. and after Xiao told you that Zhongli got asked about your relationship while he was gone to get some food, and he forgot that you were keeping it a secret and even showed some photos of you kissing. when you got home/to a guilty Zhongli and Xiao trying his best to comfort him/you both forgave him and then properly announced it the next day, so you don´t have to worry about anyone finding you out. . . because they already know.

On-Stream: he is very shy so its mostly something like your beside him, in the background or sometimes sitting in his lap. he doesn´t pay that much attention to you but only because he thinks it's embarrassing and that stuff. he will also become a tomato if you kiss him on-stream, even though he will despise you for an hour or so its worth it.

Off-Stream: he becomes less shy and pays more attention to you, he also blushes more at your closeness because he doesn´t feel like he has to hold back his emotions. why? well, he´s with you the most wonderful y/n in the whole world. so yeah he behaves differently when you two are alone, and not with hundreds of people watching you.

he loves you, but he´s not always good at showing it.

Childe

How Chat Found Out: honestly I think would just tell them I they asked, but weirdly no one did. maybe it was because they didn´t want to interfere, and thought it was inappropriate. or they didn´t want any of the lovesick fans ruining your relationship. but either way, there was definitely someone else in the house, because they could sometimes hear someone talking in another room, and sometimes post and pans, I guess they just didn´t say anything about it.

but then one of his friends brought up how you were doing because you were sick the last time they talked to him. and he said you were doing better and then the chat flipped out with messages like "Who the f**k is y/n", "are you dating that y/n person", bratty fan girls raging because how dare him and so on. he then talked about you for the next 30 min, and the other person in the call almost fell asleep by how much he talked, so the chat now knows a lot about you. . . maybe a little too much.

On-Stream: he talks a lot, he always does, but now there are more topics about you when he talks all day. example: what you ate today, a pretty outfit you wore this week, some new accessories he got you today, and yadda yadda. he also has you sit on his lap or beside him in your own chair. and ofc he kisses you at least once every stream.

Off-Stream: I would say that he´s not much different, but maybe a little, for example: lets you talk more and now listens more than he talks, kisses you more and is always touching you(not in a sexual way).

he loves you more than anything and is not afraid to show it.

Venti

How Chat Found Out: honestly I think they already knew since he does "drunk" streams-streams with alcohol-and there was always someone beside him: you. you decided you would be bedside him for his safety and to make sure he doesn´t do anything too dumb. you were out of frame, so they couldn´t really see you, but Venti sometimes talked to you so they knew what you sounded like, and saw your hands once or twice. and they adored you, and by the way he talked about you and looked at you he did too. So naturally they thought that you were dating/or related by blood but he was too lovestruck when he looked at you.

but yeah one stream he maybe drank a little too much, and he maybe began talking to you while forgetting that he was live and called you some rather. . . sweet names and then passed out, so you carried him out of his room to make him sleep a bit. when you suddenly remembered that you forgot to turn off the stream and you didn´t even turn off the camera. meanwhile, the chat was freaking out because you were so freaking pretty. so you went in and turned the stream off.

On-Stream: you now sat a little closer and people could see at least half your body, you also there in more streams and not just those containing alcohol. you two didn't give that much affection but you sometimes kissed him here and there.

Off-Stream: besides being closer and kissing more often then I don´t think there are any other differences in behavior other than ofc you spend more time together and not just beside each other.

he loves you a lot and also loves to show it.

Scaramouche

How Chat Found Out: well basically he got into an argument with Childe typical of him. you were in a collab with them and playing a multi-player game when they started arguing over something/you didn´t know what bc you tried to ignore them, so you didn´t get a headache/and it got so heated you had to mute them so you and your viewers didn´t hear all their screaming and send a message to Scara to tell you when they were done. Therefore you didn´t hear Scara yell "Well at least I'm not single" (I forgot to say that here Childe is single in this part, oh well) and everybody was shocked, they thought that Childe would be the one to get a partner first. so while Scara and Childe were still arguing, the viewers started discussing who would want to date were dating him, they didn´t find anybody though.

a few days later they finally asked him instead of speculating about it, and he/with a straight face/"Oh. . . me and y/n are dating, you didn´t know?" and let's just say that chat flipped out even more because wtf you dating HIM of all people

On-Stream: he doesn´t show any affection like at all, the only thing is you forcing him to let you sit in his lap. but no kissing, sweet talk or anything like that, nope just the same grumpy Scaramouche. he got a little annoyed when you kissed him once while he played with some friends but forgave you. Oh, and you also collab more with each other.

Off-Stream: he is definitely a lot nicer, and is kinda soft for you/but only for you/. And he doesn’t look like he wants to k!ll someone all the time or sending death threats to anybody, so at least that's one thing going for ya.

he loves you, no matter if you annoy him from time to time.

Aether

How Chat Found Out: he was in a collab with a few people (Lumine, Venti, Xiao...), and Lumine wanted to annoy Aether, it´s a sibling thing. and therefore she brought up a lot of... not the best topics to talk about on stream, and she also brought up the fact that someone is living with him/you/and how that person is just sooo sweet and pretty/handsome. (because of course she´s been over and already knows that you two are dating) so she teased him by telling him about how he should totally date you, to try and get him to reveal it to the viewers. yes she could have just told them, but this was more fun for her.

he knew what she was doing but didn´t give in until Venti (actual best annoying b!tch) started to do it too, which Lumine loved Aether... not so much. so he eventually gave in and told them that, yes he was dating someone, Xiao then asked who and Lumine made him admit that it was you/the person he`s currently living with/and chat wanted ANSWERS so they asked him stuff like, who were you, where did you meet, when did you meet, how do you look, can we see this y/n, and so on. he answered the best he could while venti and Xiao were also asking questions. he eventually called you in and asked if it was ok for people to see you, and you said yes. (you cannot say no, understand) so you showed your face and you trended on teyvats twitter.

On-Stream: he definitely has you around him almost all the time, like sitting on his lap, beside him, or having you do something of your own in the background, you're properly also there if he does any cooking streams, vlogs or hangouts.

Off-Stream: he´s still has you around him, but now you´re a lot closer. that´s his way to show more love freely instead of keeping it down. because there's tons of people looking at you all the time, and sometimes he doesn´t want to share you.

he loves you very much, and wants you to be there with him at all time.

Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[littlemisslomax]

if (Crush), return NEO;

college!pre-matrix!Neo x fem!Reader ch. 1 - choking on words inspo: @discoscoob 's College Neo Bot!

1993

It was a cool and breezy fall day at MIT; the sun shone, birds chirped, and students were all around the populated campus, getting to class or just meandering about.

Well... All students except for one: Thomas Anderson. A junior at this prestigious school, working towards his bachelor's degree in Computer Sciences and Engineering with a concentration in C++. He sounds very studious, doesn't he? Yeah, you'd think he would be, but here he is, in his campus apartment, fallen asleep at his computer. The chunky keys of the Macintosh II keyboard were imprinted into his face, and the drool dribbled out of his slightly agape mouth dripped down his cheek and all over the spacebar. It's 11:30 a.m. Thomas has a class in 15 minutes that he absolutely can't miss: Central Functions and Application of C++ with Dr. Brazhnikov. Will he wake up? God only knows... he's snoring like a freight train and is out. for. the. COUNT.

Thomas' dreamland is full of hot chicks, sexy all-black futuristic outfits, and being a total badass. Yeah, like that would ever happen. He is sleeping peacefully and soundly, that is, until one of his roommates, Chris, bursts through his door. "Thomas!!" He said frantically, running over and shaking Thomas awake. "Ugh-- Five more minutes..." Thomas whimpered and whined, not even opening his eyes, the keyboard clicking underneath his face as he moved. "Thomas, we'll be late for Dr. B's class!! Get the hell up!" Chris kept shaking him. It took him a minute, but once those words wafted into his foggy and sleepy brain, Thomas shot up from lying over his computer and quickly went into panic mode. He ran over to the dresser and threw on a plain white tee, a pair of black joggers, and some sneakers before Nerd and Nerdier ran out of the apartment to get to their class on the opposite side of campus.

11:43 a.m. -- Thomas and Chris are doing more physical activity in this moment than they've done in years. Sprinting across the quad, passing student organization tables, groups of friends socializing, and even a couple campus tours. Poor Tommy's heart is beating against his ribcage like a washboard. Sure, he was slim and lean, but he was by no means a runner; but that's not all that has him this way. What's mostly on his mind right now is you. That girl in his class that-- somehow by the grace of God himself-- was assigned by Dr. B to sit next to Neo. She always gave him the jitters, and he never could find the words he wanted to say to her. He wondered if she was in class already, they obviously can't just barge in and make fools of themselves. With a minute to spare, the boys caught their breath outside of the lecture hall and quietly entered to find their respective seats. A frown immediately donned Thomas' face when he realized that his crush... wasn't there today. Although there was a bit of relief that he didn't have to be nervous around her, he was disappointed that he wasn't going to get to look at her beautiful hair, smell her jasmine vanilla perfume, or see her curves in those hot outfits she wears... Anyways, the clock strikes 11:45 and Dr. Brazhnikov goes to close the door. Just as he grabs the knob to shut it, the sound of platformed Dr. Martens boots can be heard thudding against the tiled floor of the corridor. The older man paused upon hearing the sound and looked out the door. "WAIT! Dr. B, please wait!!" You called out desperately. Suddenly, Thomas' ears perked up at the silky sound of your voice, the once-disappointed butterflies now gaining a second wind as he looked attentively at the entrance of the lecture hall. He sat there, his big brown eyes watching as you entered, looking at you like a lost puppy looks at his owner. God, he was so smitten with you. Too bad he's just... kind of a loser. "You're late.." Dr. Brazhnikov said, crossing his arms and looking you up and down. Your only response was to just chuckle and rub the back of your neck as you headed to your seat. "Sorry, Dr. B, it won't happen again..." As you sit down to fling your backpack off your shoulder, your arm grazes Thomas' and he genuinely shivered a bit. His ears turned pink and he quickly looked away, covering the side of his face with his hand. But you paid him no mind; after all, he was just a nerdy guy in a sea of nerdy guys. You were one of maybe five girls in the entirety of the CompSci C++ concentration, and maybe 13 in the whole major, so all the guys just kinda blend into one big amalgam of nerd and geek after a while. Dr. B started class as usual before discussing the midterm project that was due next week: everyone was to turn in a roster of information of their choosing along with a floppy disk drive of a data management system that they were to code on their own using the units they've learned so far. Blah, Blah, Blah... Thomas zoned out as the older Russian man at the front of the class kept droning on and on. That was until he felt paper scrape against his arm.

His big, puppy dog eyes darted down at his arm, a bit startled as he was pulled out of his spacey daze. Shockingly, it wasn't just your notebook scraping up against him. It was a folded-up index card. Thomas looked at you with dazed eyes, but you didn't look back. God, it felt like he was vibrating, his hand trembled as he grabbed the paper. He hesitated to open it, afraid of what you could've written. What if it was something mean?? What if the note wasn't meant for him? The worst-case scenarios were enough to make poor Tommy sick to his stomach. He opened it, and there it was: the most beautiful handwriting he'd ever seen-- definitely prettier than his chicken scratch. Etched on the flash card in green ink:

"Do you have a spare floppy disk I could borrow? I'll wipe it and return it to you once Dr. B grades it."

Oh, you might as well have proposed to him right then and there. You were actually talking to him. Well-- maybe not talking per se... but it is more interaction than he normally gets with the opposite sex, which is little to none. He wasn't sure how to respond on paper, but he was swallowing back acid just at the thought of tapping you and actually speaking. He was such a ball of nerves, stuck at the fork in the road of this (usually mundane) situation. Thomas rifled through his backpack for a disk he knew he'd been carrying around. Hopefully, he didn't take it out... Where is it, where is it??? AH! There it is! Along with the disk, he pulled out a pen from his backpack and wrote in his less-than-legible handwriting:

Yes. Here you go. 💾

Unable to do so much as to touch you, Thomas cleared his throat and passed the disk towards you, leaving the note on top. Upon receiving the note and disc, you turn to this lanky, nerdy guy and flash him the sweetest smile you possibly can. "Thank you so, so, so much!" You whisper to him. "Uhh... N-No." Thomas choked out, his face bright red and his eyes involuntarily locked on yours. What the hell kinda response is that? 'NO??? YOU FUCKING IDIOT?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO???' Thomas thought to himself. "No...?" You can't help but laugh at the guy's response. "I-I mean... N-No, thank you... I-I mean No Problem... Y-Yeah... no problem..." Thomas stammered out and you couldn't help but laugh again. "Ohhh, okay..." You giggle and turn your attention back to the front.

He scratched the back of his neck and turned his attention to the lecture hall floor, the same floor which he had wished more than anything would split open and swallow him whole.

Suddenly, another note is passed to him.

Mind if we chat after class?

oh fuck... He checked his watch, lo and behold, 5 minutes left of class.

a/n: i hope y'all enjoy this. it's gonna be a verrrryyyy slow burn. (neo just doesn't get it, pls be patient with him. he'd just a silly little guy)

[fairytsuk1]

bachata baby | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

pairing: shigaraki tomura x reader

words: 8.7k

prompt: "getting paired up at a dance class"

warnings: enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, dom!shigaraki, sensual dancing, tit play, fingering, hand kink, doggystyle, protected sex, alcohol, frat party, complicated relationship

  You’d absolutely lost the class registration lottery. After days, even weeks of agonizing over what classes filled which requirements and yet still gave you enough wiggle room to have your off days, you were exhausted. Everything was planned to a tee, and your dismayed face was evident as you told your roommate the dreadful news.

“I have to take a dance class! A partner dancing class! I might as well drop out,” you cry forlornly, looking at Nejire’s baby blue rug in frustration.

“It can’t be that bad! I mean, at least the professor’s good, right? Nemuri Kayama, I think. She’s one of the best; you’re in good hands,” your friend pets your head softly before leaping onto her plush bed, “maybe you’ll even dance with someone cute! You should keep your head high.”

“...Well, I guess. If I’m with a creep, I’m gonna be so annoyed! How are you so positive?”

Nejire seems to think over her answer before giving you a teasing grin, “because I got the schedule I wanted.”

“Nejire!”

She’d reassured you she was just joking, but it was true. If you were in her position, you’re sure you’d be glad to have everything work out how you want it to. Sucking it up, you were determined not to let a stupid class ruin your well-earned GPA. You don your best comfy clothes and arrive ten minutes early at the studio. 

A couple of people are hanging out in the studio, and there’s a pleasant buzz of chatter while you sit. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. People continued trickling in, and before you could realize it, your professor clapped her hands.

“Good morning, everyone!”

Your face burns a bit hot, was she supposed to wear such tight (and revealing!) clothing? She quickly introduces herself even with all the muttering, “I hope today goes as well for you as it does for me, and I want you to all know that this class will excite you, will make you feel, and most importantly is a lot of fun!”

Everyone around you seems to be either drinking in your professor’s appearance or wondering if they should drop the class; you’re thinking the latter, too, until she drops a bomb on the students.

“You’re all too uptight! You know what? Partner up!”

It feels like you’re about to faint. Looking left, people are making eyes and nodding at each other. Looking right, it’s the same thing, and your heart stops at the realization that you don’t have a partner. There’s so much chatter and commotion as people enter the room to find a clear spot for this cruel icebreaker. 

“Does anyone not have a partner?”

You almost don’t raise your hand, but you have to. Red-hot shame is coursing through your veins. Could this get any worse?

Thankfully, a lanky and pale arm shoots into the sky alongside yours. Before you know it, Nemuri pushes you two toward each other and moves on to the assignment.

“First, say hello. These will be your partners for the rest of the semester, so make sure you like them! I know some of you are gonna date outside of class, and don’t get handsy over there!”

He’s very tall. You have to actually look up at his grumpy face to see him. His hair falls flat, looks damaged, and your cheek twitches. He’s not ugly! If he cared for his hair and maybe got more sleep… dare you say it, he could be cute.

Shigaraki towers over you easily, eyes raking your form (noting that he can see your perky tits in your bra from this advantage.) You look alright, but he’s getting the feeling that you think he’s weird, “you can stop looking at me like an animal.”

“I wasn’t! I really wasn’t,” you offer your hand and introduce yourself, “I really like your skull necklace!”

It feels like a ruse, and Shigaraki reluctantly takes your hand with a bored face, “I’m Shigaraki. Thanks.”

While others seemed to be faring better with their partners, it feels off-putting that he won’t even try to converse with you. If he’s going to have his hands on you, how could he act so cold!?

“Well, jeez. Don’t try to say it all at once,” you mumble sourly, to which your partner scoffs.

“It’s just a class. It’s not even important.”

“It’s important to me,” and you don’t like this guy.

“Then maybe you should find a different partner.”

You look like a kicked puppy when he says that, but he doesn’t take it back and mentally stews in his harshness. Maybe he should make a better effort… you were cute, he supposed. You had great tits, and you complimented his necklace.

Turning back to Nemuri, you can’t think of anything to say to that. Even though you don’t know him, it still stings a bit and your confidence leaks. Were you really that down on your luck?

Nemuri begins, telling each duo to get in a typical slow-dance pose for fun and to “get to know each other more.” It’s starting to get a little creepy, but you wind your arms around Shigaraki’s shoulders anyways. He rests his hands casually on your waist but doesn’t hold you like others. 

“Aren’t you supposed to hold my waist?”

He snickers, “do you want me to?”

Trying to talk to this man is pointless, but you almost smile at his response anyway.

“Just don’t be weird!”

“No promises,” and he’s glad to see you smile at his pervertedness.

Shigaraki decides to be nicer right then and there, in his own way.

Nemuri instructs you to casually slow dance and continue conversing; she even adds music to jazz up the class, which surprisingly works. Your nerves are melting away like butter, and Shigaraki seems to have mildly warmed up to you.

“So… Do you like to dance?”

“Fuck no.”

His bluntness makes you giggle, “yeah, me either. Except at, like, parties. But I wouldn’t really call it dancing!”

“You go to parties?”

“Sometimes! I have a lot of friends who go, so it’s like an outing every time! Do you go to parties?”

It feels kind of dumb to ask that question. No offense to him, but you’re already suspecting his answer before he gives it. He twirls you, and you feel a rush of butterflies.

“Not really. People don’t want a zombie dude at their parties,” his voice is gravelly but smooth, “but I’ve been to a few.”

“They’re fun!”

Before you can continue finding common ground, Nemuri is hollering about reading the syllabus and upcoming material you’ll cover. Shigaraki quickly gets his hands off you, and your heart aches.

“Hey, do you want to exchange social media?”

He’s already got his bag halfway on your shoulder, giving you an unimpressed look.

“I don’t use social media,” and he shuffles even closer to the parade of students exiting the lecture hall.

“Oh. Well, your number?”

You feel yourself grow hot when all he does is smirk and input your digits into his phone.

“There, do you need anything else?”

What happened to the Shigaraki from a few minutes ago? He seems to be in a rush, but you can’t help but feel hurt by his mood swings. Was he always going to be this irritable? Was he going to be someone you could count on in this class?

“...I guess not. Bye.”

He’s out of the room before you realize it, gingerly grabbing your stuff and worrying your lip. This class would be a piece of work, and you couldn’t find your footing so far. Maybe you should just drop it? But you really need that humanities credit and…

“It’s Nejire! Pick up the phone!” 

Nejire’s self-imposed ringtone is heard through your AirPods. The stress is already leaking out of your body just hearing her voice. If you had a girlfriend, she’d be it. You answer cheerily, “hey!”

“Hey! Are you coming back from class right now?”

“Yeah, I just got out. You have to hear about this; my partner sucks!”

Well… you’re embellishing. He doesn’t suck, but he’s not great.

“Aw man, really? I can’t believe it! I thought for sure it was gonna go okay….”

“It’s whatever! I’m over it,” you weren’t. “Why’d you call?”

“Oh! If you’re up for it, Phi Psi is having a party tonight! Do you wanna go?”

Hmm, ironic since you were just talking about parties. Maybe it’d be nice, and perhaps it’d be good to let loose for a couple of hours. The memory of Shigaraki telling you that he goes to some parties replays in your mind, but you try to ignore it.

“Sure! We can go. What’s the theme?”

Pajamas, she’d said. You know that your silk sleep set is more lingerie than anything else, but your nerves are buzzing with pre-gamed shots of vodka and the promise of attractive people buttering you up. Looking around, it’s a typical college party, and you’re already feeling warm from how guys eye you like you’re the hottest thing there.

Shigaraki thinks so and turns the corner, missing your flushed wandering eyes.

“We needa dance!”

Nejire babbles excitedly, Mirio accompanying her while she clutches your bicep.

“Mhm, mhm! Let me get another drink first!”

Mirio keeps Nejire’s legs from buckling and smiles, “we’ll be right here!”

You weave in and out of people, vision getting hazier and every touch feeling electric. A man starts pouring your drink, giving you a dazzling smile. He opens his mouth to talk, but you’re suddenly caged against the fence and face to face with Shigaraki’s chest.

“Wha?”

“Hey.”

He watches you search his eyes for a minute, teetering slightly as you sip the mix of alcohol and punch. Then, there’s remembrance, and you’re leaping joyfully into his chest. It feels… nice, and he gingerly pats your back before steadying you on the balls of your feet.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here. My friends are over there,” you point past his shoulder, and he sees a guy chasing a girl around, “hiii, Nejire!”

You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk, elongating words and joy coming out of you like a waterfall. A dainty hand grabs a bony one, and you’re about to drag Shigaraki toward your friends to “meet them!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” harsher than he meant to, he rips his hand away, “how drunk are you?”

You give an offended huff, “I’m not drunk! I only had a c-oop! A couple of shots! And this drink! It’s not even a lot….”

Shigaraki feels tempted to be childish and poke fun at you. Boop your nose and pull your hair, but you’re suddenly lost in thought and fascinated with your slippers.

“You look drunk.”

“Well, ’m not. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now,” and you’re suddenly invigorated and wanting to seek out your friends, but the first step sends you wobbling right into Shigaraki.

The boy yelps, hands gripping your shoulders and steadying you, “watch it!”

“Let go of me!”

Some onlookers look on, peering eyes, and boys puffing their chests out in case they need to step in. Shigaraki’s mind goes blank, and all he can think of is that you’re so fucking annoying, and why does he still want to help you?

Why did he think of you while fucking his fist in bed last night? He shushes you and crosses his arms.

“Do you want to walk home by yourself?”

You look like a child, happily saying” yes” and nodding proudly. Unfortunately, Shigaraki’s plan failed; you were too happy to wander off alone. He’s reminded of a time when people used to call him creepy when he was smaller and more bug-eyed.

“Oh, okay. Sure, get murdered. See if I care.”

This makes you react like you’re actually thinking about the consequences now. Mulling it over, you chew the inside of your lip and let your head roll back against the fence.

“...Well, I don’t wanna be murdered….”

“Then let me take you home.”

“Since when are you nice?!”

It may sting a bit, but he shows no emotion. He takes a calm breath and blows the air out through his nostrils. There are no words at first, and you’re looking at him with a glint in your eye, and he wonders what you look like when you laugh. When you cry or when you get really excited.

“You don’t even care about me.”

“... You’re my dance partner.”

He’s sure his heart overrode his brain. There’s no way he could say something so cheesy. It makes your heart pound; what did he mean by that? Your drunk brain couldn’t decipher how he presented his feelings, but then he was offering you a hand like a prince.

You never thought you’d call Shigaraki prince-like, and you’re worried that this might spiral out of control soon. Letting him lead you away, you figure that that’s definitely what will happen.

“Who’s room is…?”

Shigaraki has no idea and frankly can’t be bothered to care that he’s stumbling into a random frat guy’s room, “don’t know. Don’t really care?”

He tries to take your shoes off at least, but you’re unceremoniously dropping yourself onto the bed like a fish out of water. Shigaraki feels his cheek twitch in annoyance, and then you’re turning your head with a jutted lip.

“Are you gonna lie?”

“Am I going to what?”

He assures himself you’re too drunk to understand what you’re saying. There’s no reason for you to ask that other than the need to not be alone. You’d never ask that because you genuinely wanted, no, trusted Shigaraki to stay with you. He’d never believe it, but his feet carried him to the edge of the bed, and then he sank into the soft mattress.

It’s quiet, maybe too quiet. The music’s bass thrums through the floors, but all Shigaraki can hear is your soft breath. He doesn’t even realize you’re looking at him in the dimness of his room until he turns his head. His breath catches in his throat. Have you always been so pretty?

The alcohol makes you too sleepy too fast, and it feels like this moment is slipping away from you like you’re trying to cup water in your hands. It’s leaking out of you, and then his red eyes lock onto yours. 

“Why don’t you like me?”

“What do you mean,” and it comes out almost wounded.

“I-hic. I mean, like, when you suddenly act so… mean.”

For the first time in a long time, Shigaraki feels rendered speechless. He wants to jump up and run out of the room like the child he once was, but he can’t find the strength to pull away from your gaze.

“...I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t,” and he finally breaks eye contact to look through the window behind you, “you don’t have to pity me, then.”

“I don’t!” 

The end of your words slurs, and you know you’ll lose yourself to the intoxicating feelings of sleep soon.

“I just… I want to like you.”

“Like me?”

You smile widely before you lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. He even goes cross-eyed to try and follow your movements.

“You’re kinda… cute. But, you’re mean. So just be nice! Okay?”

He’s not even sure why he goes along with it.

“Okay.”

Your eyes close, and for a second, he thinks he’s finally free from this impromptu analysis of… well, him. But, you beat him to the chase and whisper quietly.

“I meant it.”

“What?”

“That you’re cute.”

One eye peeks open when he doesn’t respond, and the embarrassment that should be there is only replaced with pure elatedness. His eyes sparkled a bit more. It makes you think that you should compliment him more. You shut your eyes.

“You’re going to be embarrassed tomorrow.”

Maybe he waited too long, but all he knows is that your soft snores escape you quickly, and his heart warms at the sound. It shouldn’t, but it does. He falls asleep shortly after and dreams of a faceless girl who dances with him all night. The girl always keeps smiling at him no matter how stiff he is.

It’s a beautiful dream.

-

Shigaraki’s kind enough to shake you awake just past dawn, and the splitting headache doesn’t make the visual of him leaning over you with a gentle hand easier to see. 

“Hey. Wake up. Some frat dude is gonna yell at you.”

The idea of someone barging in makes you move to sit up and groan, “do you have any water?”

“No. Get up, hurry,” and he’s tugging you off the bed.

It was a bad idea, your sleep-addled brain lagging and causing you to flop directly into a firm chest, “watch out!”

“I’m sorry! I’m barely awake,” and it comes out like a whine, “can we get water?”

You almost think he’ll say no, tell you to fuck off and get water yourself. But, he makes a move you would’ve never expected, calmly lacing his hand with yours and steadying you on your feet.

“Fine, let’s just get going already.”

Was this the Shigaraki you’d met? Had he been replaced by a clone that happened to be identical to the tone of voice? The feeling of a bony hand in yours is unreal. You can hardly take your eyes off the entanglement while Shigaraki urges you to come down the stairs faster than you are.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Did I say something weird last night?”

It comes out in a whisper, and Shigaraki feels like going to college was a huge mistake when he pulls his hand away and holds it close to himself like you’re injured. Like he injured you.

So, be nice! Okay?

“Shigaraki?”

“You said I was cute.”

He’s blushing as he blurts it out like it’s a defense mechanism to keep you from getting closer. You rack your brain for the precise wording, but you can only remember bits and pieces of lying down to look at each other.

Did you really call him cute? You gnaw on your lip and look away, but as you glance at him again, you know you definitely did say that. Your lips turn upwards, the hilarity of you having to double-check while sober if you meant what you’d said...

Shigaraki was even hot now that you really looked at him, even with the tsundere thing going on.

“Well… well! I was drunk! Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t like hearing it.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re mistaken.”

“What’s that, huh? Why do you look like a tomato, hm?”

He wants to throttle you, wagging your finger in his face and poking his cheek like he’s a zoo animal. 

“I should’ve just left you up there, let you get eaten by wolves.”

“But you didn’t.”

You’re right. Somehow in the mix of pushing you away and being pulled closer, he still stayed there the whole night to keep you safe. He still woke you early enough to escape the wolves lurking in the nearly destroyed frat house. He could’ve let you be eaten by wolves, but he didn’t.

“...Well, whatever. Let’s go.”

“Mkay.”

It’s surprising how you decide to drop the subject. This strange attraction thrummed in your bones, urging you to do something about this little… crush. You let him guide you out the door and towards his car, a beat-up little Toyota. It’s red, too, like his eyes. Maybe it was on purpose.

“You’re okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Shigaraki drives recklessly, you note. The way his hands grip the wheel, tires screeching as he swerves out into the abandoned street and takes off. It should make you scared, want to yell, and demand he let you out. Only he gives you a quick glance and smirks. 

You really should talk to Nejire before you decide to fuck him. His music taste blares out of old speakers, a mix of rock and metal that wakes you like a good cup of coffee. You’re about to lose yourself to the Foo Fighters song, but then he snaps the knob down to zero and clears his throat. 

“You owe me.”

“I owe you what? I don’t owe you,” you even cross your arms for effect.

How cute.

“For taking care of you, ruined my night,” he’s lying, and he knows he’s lying, but he can’t help but take a chance.

Take a chance and see if you really mean it, if he’s not just making things up because you want to be nice. The part that runs deep in his blood tells him it can’t be true, and he hopes that, for once, he’s wrong.

“Psh, ruined. You love being around me. That’s why you get like that,” you push it even further, “you just don’t know how to tell me you want me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, and you’re carelessly whistling a tune while picking at your nails. 

“We have to practice our dance for class,” smooth, peaceful transition.

“Right! Tomorrow evening, in one of the practice rooms, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for walking me home.”

Shigaraki repeats his reply, and you note that he seems distracted. You wonder if you also seem distracted; you had a lot to think about!...

And all Shigaraki could think about was holding your waist in his hands. It made his heart thump in his chest. God.

The walk to the practice room was cold, and you were thankful for your quick thinking of wearing leg warmers like a ballerina. You’re unsure if Shigaraki is already there, but you’re shaking off the cold as quickly as possible while storming into the building.

He is there! His phone’s hooked up to a small speaker, and the pale blue walls make him shine even in dark clothing. His hair shakes when he gives you a blithe wave, “hey. Took you long enough.”

“Hey! I came as fast as I could. Is that your speaker?”

“Mm, no. My roommate’s, uh… Dabi? You don’t know him.”

Oh, you’ve heard of him. Frankly, this should be an even bigger red flag, but you pay it no mind and shrug, “I might’ve heard of him.”

He chuckles at that. So you have heard of him.

“Well, anyway. He never uses it, so I took it.”

“Wow, evil.”

You drop your bag next to his, a frumpy black backpack with suspicious stains. You sidle close to him, peering at his Spotify while he scrolls for the correct song.

“You should show me your Spotify account!”

“God no, you’ll never see it. C’mon, we need to get this over with.”

“Whaaaat? You don’t want to hang out and stall practicing with me?”

He’s gotten warmer since your first meeting, lips quirked up as he drops his phone and crosses his lazy arms, “nope.”

“Fine! We can practice, and maybe later, I can steal your phone for your Spotify.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his voice dips a bit lower, “c’mere.”

Something inside of you ignites, but you force yourself to ignore it while wrapping your arms around his shoulders; he slumps a bit to accommodate you, making the fire even hotter. You melt like butter into him. The two of you fit perfectly. You could feel it.

The melody is something from an old movie, gentle and sweet with a romantic vibe. It’s causing tension between you and Shigaraki.

It’s making you want to kiss him.

“You stepped on my foot,” he whispers while twirling you in a half-circle.

Squeaking a quiet apology, he rolls his eyes and dips you a tad, “you seem distracted.”

You can hardly hear him over “Easy Lovers” playing in the background. It’s consuming you whole like you might not ever breathe again.

“Do I?”

“Maybe I just don’t know you that well enough,” and you twirl again.

It’s just practicing for class, for a dumb class that wouldn’t even matter in four years. But you didn’t think of anything at that moment, just that you were pressing soft lips against chapped ones with a feeling of passion behind it. Even if he lacked lip balm, the sensation of him gripping your shirt made everything seem so much hotter. Sweeter.

He even has the gall to swipe his tongue over your lip like he’s the one who took the leap and kissed you first. You know that Shigaraki was too shy to kiss you first. 

“...”

It’s dead silent, his Spotify queue echoing automatically and filling the room with music you don’t think you’ve ever heard. Shigaraki nearly shivers at the confused gleam in your eyes.

“It’s called shoegaze.”

“Shoegaze?”

“Yeah,” and he’s barely finishing the word before taking your cheek in hand and bringing you back to him.

Your breath hitches and you want to get so close the two of you nearly fuse together. Dainty hands tangled in his hair, all raggedy and muted like his skin or clothes. Something about how his bony fingers dig into the curve of your waist keeps your head spinning, and you don’t even realize he owns you by pressing you against the wall and licking the inside of your mouth.

“Sh-aah.”

The moan wasn’t too loud, but it echoed in his head. Shigaraki has never been the type to be so openly carnal and animalistic, and yet it was coming out with every kiss he dotted on the skin of your neck. He could fuck you here if he was so pleased, and briefly, he worried when he felt his cock stir in his pants.

You bring him back to you, grasping like a lifeline and laving over the slickness of his mouth and how he was strong enough to carry you just off the ground. It was stupidly hot; when did he get all this power? It’s like it overtook him, and the two of you part; neither of you wanted to.

“We need to stop.”

“But can’t we–”

“No. Not here,” he mulls over his following words with an annoyed look, “and I don’t have a condom.”

You nearly burst out laughing in his face, dry heaving and keeling over. But it’ll upset him, and that’s the last thing you want. “Oh, well, I’m on birth control?”

“Stop.”

He seems firm in his decision, but you can’t help but wiggle your hips toward him enticingly. Maybe he’ll cave, let you give him a handjob or something. I mean, that’s not that bad, right?

“Please?”

Shigaraki would usually feel irritation rise quickly and overwhelm him, but his eyes flicker down to your wandering hands and wiggling hips. Well, he was serious about not wanting to fuck here, but…

“I’m only doing this so you’ll be quiet!”

He sinks to his knees. You salivate at sight, brimming with joy and confidence. His thumbs hook in your belt loops, and he tenderly runs his hands over your thighs, “grab onto the ballet bar.”

You don’t think you’ll collapse to your knees, but you’re shaking in anticipation because he looks like he knows what he’s doing. The way he swiftly tugs your leggings and panties down in one go, you can feel your arousal smearing your thighs; you were already horny just from kissing him.

Finally, he looks relaxed, parting your puffy lips and admiring your dripping hole.

“It’s cute.”

“Shut up,” you’re breathless already with how you can feel his breath right where you need him.

Then, he’s licking from your clenching hole to the nub of your clit, the glide slick with spit as he gets to work.

“Shigaraki!”

You nearly scream, legs angling in too close, but his surprisingly firm grip keeps you how he wants you. Your hands wrench around the ballet bar as he licks every fold so he can taste as much of you as possible. 

It’s wonderful, and you know now that he does in fact, know what he’s doing, especially with how his nose and cheeks are beginning to shine with arousal. He’s eating you like a man starved like he can’t get enough from fucking you on his tongue; he needs more and more. He licks into your hole, savoring every drop with a clench on your ass that’ll leave bruises for days.

He sucks your clit between his lips before pulling away with a pop, “you’re such a fucking brat.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry! Just keep,” and you tilt your hips towards his shiny lips again, “please? Feels so good….”

It’s rewarding how he flattens his tongue to grind up your slit, devouring you like he had too much time to practice. The way he toys with your pussy; makes your legs shake and your back arch off the mirror displaying your debauchedness.

Shigaraki mumbles something, but you’re too busy tilting your hips into his face and making him nearly unable to breathe as you tremble on his tongue. He tonguefucks you, digging deep with obscene slurping noises echoing around you, “oh, fuuuuck.”

Your hands entangle in his white strands, grounding you while you speed towards your orgasm like a rocket setting into space. Shigaraki seems to sense your quickened breaths and gyrating hips; his hands grip your ass cheeks to pull you closer as he makes you creamy. He holds you in place, forcing you to feel his tongue grinding flat circles over your clit before dipping down to lap over your pussy. He acts as if it’s a dessert. Like it’s a real treat to eat you out.

He pulls away, mildly huffing out of breath, “stop moving.”

Soft pecks are placed on your inner thighs as he lets you grow needier and needier through pussy neglect, “Shigaraki, please.”

“Please, what? You’re so selfish,” and he gives a hard suck to your clit, “I should just leave you here.”

 “No! No, don’t!” 

His rough treatment of you makes you jump, but he doesn’t leave you like he threatened. Instead, he kissed the mound of soft curls in the apex of your thighs, nose curving down the slope of your thigh as his breath barely ghosted over your slick lips.

“I want you to be the one that makes me feel good,” maybe if you lay it on thick, he’ll be forced to listen to you!

Instead, all he rewards you with is an unreadable look, but then he’s diving back in between your legs, and you can’t focus on what that look means because Shigaraki will make you cum.

“Yes, yes! Keep going, hah… your tongue’s so deep!”

The wet sounds make you flush, and his intensity makes you jump to your tip-toes and tilt away from the warm, wet mouth that chases you no matter how you tilt your hips.

Your legs are shaking, threatening to close, and the stretched coil snap could happen anytime you’re barely saying, “feel like I’m gonna, gonna c-ungh. Gonna cum…!”

He keeps going. Determined and sloppy with how he’s not even taking a second to breathe. You’re nearly there, humping his face with moans of his name that turn his ears pink. A hand snakes up your leg, and there’s a wet squelch as he easily slips two fingers inside. The stretch is delicious torture, and you cum while crying out.

“Shigaraki!”

His fingers help you ride out your orgasm, the remnants glistening on his fingers as your cream sticks to them lewdly before he sucks the essence off. He stands once you’ve regained yourself. 

“Pretty good,” and he gives his hand one last lick; he can’t even stop the snark from appearing.

“Shut up! You’re so embarrassing.”

“Yeah, yeah, didn’t I just make you cum? All whiny, ‘ah, ah! Shigaraki mmph!’ right?”

“No! Not even right at all,” and he casually leans over you with his hands on the ballet bar as if you two were dating as if he was actually your boyfriend, “...but thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Well, well, I mean! Thank you for… indulging me.”

You had trailed off, not even realizing how close he was to your ear until he whispered a gravelly, “you’re so very welcome for making you cum, if that’s what you mean.”

Neither of you speaks. You can’t help but look down and notice the bulge in his pants. He seems unbothered, but leaving him high and dry feels unfair.

“Do you want me to…?”

He gives a quick glance down but shakes his head, “Nah. We should just wrap all of this up, though.” 

“Right,” and yet you don’t stop thinking about it while both of you make the practice room look neat again.

Even while walking you back home, his second time, Shigaraki knows that there’s something secretive on your mind.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing! Just tired.”

“...Right.”

He stares at you for too long before you head into your dorm. You know what’s coming but don’t make the first move. He’s quick about it, but he does kiss you. It’s so fast, sweet, and low stakes that you smile warmly at him.

“Goodnight, Shigaraki.”

The boy nods, pulling up his hoodie, “night.”

You can’t wait to tell Nejire all about it.

“You what?! You had sex with Shigaraki?!”

Nejire’s in disbelief, nearly falling off her bed as she bolts towards your side of the room, “you really did?”

“Other people can probably hear you! But, well, yeah. It wasn’t like we went all the way or anything! He just went down on me,” the pink in your cheeks is evident while you begin to unravel the story.

“Wait, where was this again?”

“Oh. The, well, the practice room?”

“The practice room?!.”

She suddenly bursts into laughter, and you feel your cheeks twitching as you squeeze her hands, “c’mon, it’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not. I didn’t think Shigaraki would eat pussy in the practice room!”

Sometimes you regret telling your roommate anything, but it took the edge off thinking about how he hadn’t texted you. Should you expect a text? You figured it would be something lighthearted, but he just went radio-silent. Just like that, it hurt, you had to admit. But, you weren’t gonna let him get away with it. You’ll get your payback soon, finally get him to realize what he’s really feeling.

You hope it’s the same as what you’re really feeling.

Then, the day of your presentation is like the sunrise. Knowing everyone would be watching you didn’t ease your nerves. Considering Shigaraki had been ignoring your texts since the last time you met, it felt like he was contributing to your anxiety just as much as the actual dance! You could hardly get dressed, shrugging on your comfiest yet presentable clothes. 

Maybe he thought it was a mistake, and your fingers were itching to send a text. Nejire had advised you to send something short and sweet before leaving for the day, and you finally cave while brushing your teeth.

[Dance Partner]: Do you want to meet up before class?

Shigaraki lay in bed, still in pajamas and debating whether to drop out. His heartbeat spikes at the message, and it feels so dumb to get excited over a mere text. He’d been practicing, unbeknownst to you, spending so much time in the bathroom with the door locked to practice his footwork that he’d gotten an angry text from his roommate.

[Shigaraki]: I think it’s fine

Part of you wonders if he’ll show up at all.

[Dance Partner]: I’m nervous.

He doesn’t reply, but he feels the same. Eventually, he meandered his way to his closet to pick his outfit. Yeah, he was nervous too. 

You spot him first, and part of you wants to wave him over but he seems to hardly look up. This was all fruitless. You should’ve never done anything in that practice room. Tears prickle your vision at the sudden emotion of it, a test, and knowing a guy wants nothing to do with you? It sucks much more than you thought it would.

“Hey.”

He’s calm, voice smooth and honeyed as he sits next to you. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice your glassy eyes.

“Hey.”

The silence passes between you as more people file in, and Nemuri sets up the class materials. 

“I don’t think you should be nervous,” he pauses to side-eye you, “I’ve been practicing.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to give you a bad grade, and I need to pass.”

He put you first, and maybe it’s dumb to analyze his order of priorities, but it makes you feel special, “I think we’ll do well.”

You finally turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you.

“Stop acting weird.”

“I-I’m not! I’m just nervous!”

“Yeah, right,” and a gentle hand settles on your knee, “I know what you’re thinking. About the practice room.”

“You’re the one that didn’t text me back.”

He doesn’t reply right away, but you know he feels terrible. The way he swallows and clenches his free fist, the regret is a bit palpable.

“...I know, and I’m sorry.”

He squeezes your knee for emphasis, “genuinely.”

You suppose it’s okay, mumbling that you forgive him and relishing in the burn that his hand leaves on your leg. Nejire clears her throat, and you listen to her instructions. His hand doesn’t leave your knee.

She calls your names about halfway into class, and suddenly the lights seem too bright once you’re on stage. You can feel your leg shaking as you stand interlocked with Shigaraki. He looks calm and collected. If anything, he seems to be more worried about you. 

Indeed he can feel your anxiety shakes, and then his thumb rubs the space between your collarbones. It suddenly feels like everything will be alright.

“Are you two ready?”

You squeak out a “yes!” and Shigaraki merely nods; the music follows, and you retreat into your mind to remember every step.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers softly, and you feel like you could do anything.

The two of you dance to the same song in the practice room while you swim across the floor with grace, the type of grace that’s only there because you have a connection. It comes effortlessly, Shigaraki leading with you following as he steadily guides you by your waist. 

You remember to make eye contact, and your breath is stolen because your biggest fears have been confirmed. You like Shigaraki. You want him carnally. More than anything in the world, you move like two souls on the same plane. Everything about it is perfect.

He stops the momentum, your upper half steadily supported by a hand that shows so much tenderness between your shoulder blades. The two of you were breathing softly, near exhaustion with the way your bodies swirled together into one.

“Excellent! Very nice. Any critiques?”

The spell is broken, and you’re collecting your breath while smoothing your clothes. Whew, that was something. Your eyes track toward Shigaraki’s, and he’s looking at you again.

“I thought you guys looked very clean,” said a meek girl desperate to escape the room’s silence.

You offer a “thanks” and note the critique of better posture, among other surface criticism. Nemuri writes on her clipboard, smiling and nodding, “excellent, thank you, you two.”

“I have to go, excuse me.”

He leaves you alone on the stage to race up the stairs to collect his backpack. You’re knocked out of a trance and thrown into deep waters, and Nemuri begins to call the next names.

“Hiroshi, is your partner not here? Oh, and,” she turns back to you, “you can take a seat now.”

You do.

It’s time to settle this, Shigaraki decides. There’s a three-day break coming up, and his mind has been looping back to it every passing class. He couldn’t keep running away from you anymore after you were assigned different partners for the next dance. If he doesn’t act, he’ll completely lose you.

And for the record, Nemuri was a liar. Could she not see the connection between you two? Even he could see it, and he wished he couldn’t.

It felt like you were slipping away, partnered with someone else, and Shigaraki had been conversing with you sparsely. It was torture, Hell on Earth if he had to imagine it. You’re getting lost in the waves, and he’s losing his grip.

Meanwhile, you’ve been getting on top of your classwork and contacting your new dance partner, Eijirou. It doesn’t feel the same of course, not when you can feel Shigaraki’s eyes on you every time you’re in the arms of the redhead.

You don’t expect anything from him anymore; you pretend not to. The ding sounds from your phone, and you just know.

[Shigaraki]: hey

It makes your heart race, and you can feel your pulse thrumming in your neck.

[Her]: Hey

[Shigaraki]: wyd

[Her]: I’m not doing this

[Shigaraki]: come over

[Her]: No

[Shigaraki]: i wanna see you

You want to slap yourself. Tell him there’s no way you can deal with his hot and cold nature. That even if you like him, he’s not good for you. You can’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, won’t.

[Her]: Come to my dorm and walk with me, it’s too dark and cold

[Shigaraki]: omw

Waiting feels painful. You spend a minute making sure you are moisturized and smelling good, and then eventually, he’s at the sliding door of the dorm. You’re wearing a simple long-sleeve, and you’re keen to pick up on the fact that he really brought you a coat.

“Hey,” you smile and eagerly embrace him the tiniest bit.

“Hey, take it. ‘M tired of holding it,” and your hands are brushing when you take the black hoodie to slip over your head.

The walk is quiet, and you can feel anticipation climbing up your spine as the two of you grow closer and closer. The cold is nonexistent, not with the warmth you feel because of the boy beside you.

“Is your roommate home?”

He shakes his head, hand steady as he slips the key into the lock and brings you into his space. The lights flicker on, and you’re smiling at his side of the room. Dark, a bit punk, and he’s totally unashamed of it. He drops the keys in the bowl, turning his head first before fully facing you.

“So–”

You’re rushing to jump into his arms, connecting your lips effortlessly in a kiss that soothes all aches you’d ever had about him. You knew he would catch you, and you fit like the sun and moon. The connection makes you heave into the kisses, leaning into the slickness of saliva coating your lips while he pushes you against the nearest wall. 

It feels like dancing, the way your tongues slide against each other with a fierceness while he shrugs off his jacket. You’re already wet, impossibly wet, and the mewls come out despite you trying to swallow them. The need for him is so strong you’re dropping your legs to move things along.

“You’re so fucking hot,” pressing his forehead against yours, “holy shit.”

“You wanna see more?”

Peeling off the sweatshirt to catch your curves worn under the fitted long-sleeve. His hand circles your lower back, eyes locked onto how your tits nearly spill out of its v-neck. They’re so easy to hold; his hand is already sliding up your side to the underside of your breasts. 

“Can I?”

“Of course,” you whisper while tugging his hand to squeeze your tits, sighing at the contact.

“No bra?”

“What, you, ah! You want it to get in the way?”

“God, no,” His other hand meets your other tit, fully groping you, and his eyes nearly crimson with need.

His hardness is apparent, the bulge nudging against your thigh while his knee applies delicious pressure to your aching clit; you can’t stop your hips from grinding up against his leg.

“Kiss me,” and he’s quick to shut you up, hands raking under your shirt to feel skin on skin.

“Shigaraki!”

He could listen to you say that all day, but he can’t stand how the two of you are still so tightly clothed. Your shirt comes up, and you’re quick to immediately tug it off and grind on his leg again. It’s sticky, hot, and heady as the two of you dry-hump against the only space on the wall. 

“Wait, we should…we should move to the bed,” and he doesn’t seem to hear you with how he lurches forward to lick into your mouth, “Sh-Shigaraki.”

The kisses only stop for a moment, but then he’s pushing away from the wall and guiding you by the hands to the bed. He slips off his sweatpants, leaving his boxers on, and you mirror him. It almost feels too intimate when he stares at you once settled on top of you, and you can’t take it.

His hand circles your nipple slowly, making you arch at the feeling of him toying with your chest, “mm!”

Resting on his left hand, you watch as the bony hand travels downwards, swooping under your tit to glide past your belly button and reach the black band of your panties, “may I?”

You’ve never been so turned on, and you’re sure it’ll be smeared all over your thighs by the end of this tryst. Lifting your hips, he tosses the panties onto the floor, and your face burns with how your wetness immediately soaks his fingers when he runs them through your slit.

“You’re so wet, you’re that needy?”

“I just need you to touch me…!”

He gives a low hum, digits circling your clit so slowly that your legs jump closed, “keep them open.”

You’re getting desperate, eager to feel him slip his fingers inside and crook them up, but he’s so calm and attentive. Taking his time, he looks at every inch of your pussy with fire in his eyes. You’re dripping, and the slick sounds when he just barely slips his middle finger into your hole nearly echo.

Finally, he indulges you by slipping it in deep and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can hardly breathe, toes curling as you hold his wrist to keep fingering you, “fuck, feels so good!”

He can only chuckle, curling his fingers and hitting that gooey spongy spot that arches your back and leaves muffled cries spilling through your fingers. It feels so good, too good, and you’re soaring as he finally starts to thrust his hand.

“Come on, let me hear what you have to say. Do you like it? Do you want more?”

“I wan, I want…!”

He forces his hand, adjusting to a steady rhythm that you can practically hear yourself getting close from the stimulation of being finger-fucked. Looking down at you, he’s keyed into every movement. Every noise and body twitch. It’s like he’s been possessed to make you cum, and you’re nearly there.

“Gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grappled for your tit like a lifeline, and it was like a show with how he watched you tug at your chest.

It’s so desperate, and it feels perfect to finally be connected and feel the heat of his breath while he makes you cream on his hand. You’re at his mercy, and he knows it, “go on and cum. Wanna fuck you.”

You nearly black out, the tension snapping like a rubber band as you gyrate your hips. It’s debauched, but you hardly care when Shigaraki rubs a tight circle on your clit, “heh.”

“You’re,” you’re still panting, and he grins.

“I’m what?”

He’s shrugging his boxers off while you recover, and your clit throbs once he exposes his cock, lean and long like his fingers. 

“Nothing!”

“Cat got your tongue?”

You circle closer to him, watching eagerly as he slips the condom on with ease. Your mouth’s watering and you want to go down on him badly, but he has other plans. 

“Wanna do doggy?”

“Yeah,” and it’s the hottest sight he’s ever seen when you bend over, exposing your clenching hole waiting to be filled. Your ass is up in the air, and you look perfectly spread out for him. 

The slap on your ass makes you jump, but Shigaraki seems happy with the way he kneads the fat of your ass. His cock bumps into your pussy as he maneuvers himself, and the slickness of it sliding between your folds and bumping your clit makes you shake.

“God, I could fuckin’ tease you forever,” and he grips the base of his cock with a groan, “I don’t know why I waited so long.”

“I know! Why don’t you–”

He slides home, he’s not too girthy, but the length makes your arms shake while supporting your body, “oh god.”

“Yeah, fuckkk, yeah.”

It’s a slow rhythm, clearly reveling in the wet warmth and tightness of your hole; he’s got a death grip on your hip as he shallowly thrusts into you, “amazing pussy.”

You can only moan a “thanks” as he moves a bit more, cockhead dragging against your walls and then filling you back up till you feel like you can’t breathe. The bed creaks, and he starts pounding you so hard it cries. Jolting you forward, you can’t even lean away from how he plows himself into you, balls slapping against your clit, giving you aftershocks.

It’s messy, and he’s barely holding his rhythm because you’re squeezing around him so tight and he feels like he might shoot his load any second. He slows down for a mere second to rub your clit, lean body resting on yours as he moves his hips in tandem with yours.

He’s panting and is too stuck on your eyes rolling back to notice he’s inching closer and closer to his orgasm. The coil is hot in his tummy as he ravages you and makes you take all of him. The connection drives you wild, and soon you’re pushed face-first into the pillows as he fucks you like a fleshlight. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god,” and he fucking whimpers inside of you.

It sends your head spinning as he reaches his peak, a hand slapping your ass as the two of you move together. Your ass smacks against his lower abs, and the slick that coats the top of the hair around his base makes him heave, “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, gonna milk this sweet pussy.”

You barely crane your head to catch a view, and he looks heavenly, and his eyes draw shut. He’s barely even thrusting, just mashing into you deeper and harder. He opens his eyes, and the red in them turns nearly burgundy as he grunts.

“Shiga-Shigaraki…!”

One, two, and then he’s pinning you down with his body weight as his hips jerk up into you. You know he’s wearing a condom, but part of you wants to imagine the heat filling your insides and breeding you. The thought of it makes you squeeze around him, and his fingers leave bruises on tender parts of your flesh.

It takes a minute for your breath to calm. The feeling of satiation with Shigaraki still buried to the hilt in you feels so comforting that you could fall asleep. You’re barely there, thoroughly fucked and floating in space. He has enough strength to interlock your hands on top of you, and the two of you bask in the post-coital glow.

“You gonna get off me any time soon?”

He offers a steady deep breath before replying.

“Nope. It’s my reward for looking after you at that party.”

“Really? You’re still on that?”

Sidelining you again, you remember why he frustrates you so much once again. But it doesn’t hurt this time; it just feels good.

“Go on a date with me.”

“You can’t just change the subject like that!”

“Then go on a date with me, and I won’t have to.”

Your mouth flattens into a straight line, “you’re lame.”

Small kisses dot the curve of your neck as he finally pulls himself out of you. You leave in a flash to use the bathroom and return to the covers being pulled up just for you.

The two of you settle on meeting up next Monday.

[Shigaraki]: See you at the ice skating rink

You never knew Shigaraki would be one to skate between you two? He didn’t, either. He supposed you just bring out that side of him.

The side that likes dancing, ice skating, and you.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

You Owe Me A Date | Spencer Reid

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, kidnapping, mention of blood, mention of guns, ends with fluffff :)

Words: 3.919

– Your POV – 

“Oh my sweet!” the familiar voice of my ever-so-bubbly roommate startles me as I glance at my reflection in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. “You look so gorgeous!” 

I feel my cheeks heat up at her compliment, my eyes glancing over at her through the mirror before focusing back on my own reflection. I had donned my favorite flowy lavender dress. It reached just beneath my knees and the sleeves were capped, covering my shoulders daintily. 

“Is it too much?” I ask her, my eyes flicking back to her reflection. 

The blonde offers me a smile as she walks up to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Not at all. It’s perfect for a first date with the Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s gonna love this and he’s gonna love you. I think he might love it even more when that dress is off you.” 

“Oh my God, Pen!” I whine and grab the pillow closest to me to hit her with it. “This is just a first date, nothing’s gonna happen.” 

Penelope has kind of set me up on a date with her co-worker, Spencer. I had met the guy once or twice before when my lovely roommate invited me for a drink and he was there too. Liking him came naturally. He was so nice to talk to and so considerate. He was easy to like. And Penelope had caught onto my little crush on the Doctor that she decided to play Cupido and egged Spencer on to ask me out on a date. 

So, here we are, just a few minutes away from being on a date with him and I am stressing out about it. Not that I’m sure why I’m stressing out about it, but I am. Questions of doubt haunt my head as I look at myself, wondering if he’ll like me the same way I like him, wondering if he’ll like the dress, if I’ll be interesting enough for his overly genius brain. 

“Is he picking you up?” Penelope asks as she backs away a little, grabbing the jewelry I had laid out to finish off my outfit. 

As she helped me put it on, I shook my head. “No, I’m meeting him at the restaurant. He’s coming in straight after work.” 

“Really? I thought he’d be the pick-you-up-at-home kind of guy,” she pondered. 

Shrugging, I pinned one earring in my ear. “He wanted to, at first, but I told him it was all right to meet there. It would be a detour for him to come here straight from work to then take us both to the restaurant.” 

“Mmh, okay. Well, tell him I said hi and text me when you get home safely.” 

My lips curl up into a mischievous smirk. “You’re staying at Sam’s again tonight?” 

“I might,” Pen shrugs innocently, though I can see the cheekiness in her eyes. “See you later, sweetcheeks! Have fun on your date. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“So, that leaves nothing I can’t do…” I mutter, earning a glare from the blonde. “Have fun with Sam!” 

Penelope kisses my cheek quickly before exiting my room. When I step into my heels, I hear the door slam shut, telling me she’s gone. After one last look at my reflection, I grab my purse and assemble everything I would need to put in it before finally leaving the apartment, too. 

A flutter in the pit of my stomach tells me how excited I am about my date with Spencer. I’m excited to see him again, talk to him and listen as he espouses some facts about whatever we’re talking about. 

That flutter of excitement quickly turns into one of fear when someone’s hand covers my mouth while an arm snakes around my waist. The familiar scent of cologne hits my senses but before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, a sharp pain shoots through my head and everything just goes dark. 

***

– Spencer’s POV –

I’ve been excited about this night since I asked her out. The flutter of excitement in the pit of my stomach is constant as I go through my day, watching the hours tick by until it’s finally time to leave. I quickly say goodbye to whomever’s still in the office before quickly making my way down to the restaurant we’d decided to meet at. 

“Spencer Reid, table for two,” I say to the hostess. 

The woman glances over her book of reservations before scribbling something down and urging me to follow her to the back of the restaurant, right near the windows overlooking the park behind it. Though it is still chilly outside, the winter air just leaving its last breath, the soft spring sun offers the park a nice glow. I hope she likes this spot. 

From what I heard from Penelope, y/n is never late, so when there’s no trace of her about twenty minutes later and I’m starting to get glances of sympathy, I decide to call her. Just to check where she is. 

“Hi, this is y/n, leave me a message and I’ll call back when I can.” Her message rings out and I hang up before the beep follows. I try again, but am met with the same exact chirpy voice, telling me to leave a message. This time, I do. 

“Hi, y/n. Uhm… Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we were gonna meet each other at the restaurant at six? It’s-it’s twenty past and you’re not here yet… Of course you’re not. You know that. Uhm… Call me back if something’s come up or just to let me know you’re on your way… Kay… Thanks. Bye.” 

Something in the pit of my stomach is telling me something’s not quite right. Y/N wouldn’t stand me up. Every time she came with Penelope to our afterwork drinks, she was always very punctual and, from what her roommate told me, y/n was equally excited about this date as I was. 

With that in mind and my worry growing, I dial Penelope’s number. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be drowning in my roommate’s eyes?” she says as she picks up.

“She’s not here yet, Garcia,” I tell her. “And she’s not picking up. You don’t think she’d–” 

“No,” Penelope cuts me off, knowing what I was going to say. I can hear her voice lacing with worry. “No, she was ready to leave when I left. What do you mean she’s not there? Do you think something’s happened to her?” 

I sigh. It wasn’t my intention to worry Penelope, too, but I needed to know if she knew something, to ease my own brain and the overwhelming fear of something actually happening to her. Though we’d only seen each other a handful of times, I have grown quite fond of her. 

“No, I-I don’t know. But I’m kinda worried…” I slide my chair back and stand up. “I’m gonna go to your place, see if she’s still there…” 

“Okay,” Penelope answers in a sigh and I can hear her chair sliding back as well. “I’ll meet you there.” 

Hanging up the phone, I rush out of the restaurant and make my way over to her and Penelope’s apartment. If I go by foot, I might find her if something happened to her on her way here. Every flash of y/h/c that passes me gives me a little bit of hope, but it’s shattered quickly every single time. No y/n in sight. No ambulances in the vicinity, so at least I can rule that out. 

My heart is racing when the front door of the apartment building is ajar. As I approach the building, Penelope stops me as she arrives too. 

“Have you found her?” she asks. 

I shake my head. “No, but your front door is open. Does that happen sometimes?” 

“No, never,” Penelope whispers and the fear in her eyes tells me enough to reach for my gun. With my co-worker on my heel, I enter the building cautiously. I turn every corner, check every nook and cranny all the way up to their apartment. 

Holstering my weapon again, I turn to Garcia. “Go inside, maybe she’s still in,” I order and as I turn to look around the hallway, my eye catches on something on the banister of the stairs. I inspect it from closer by, only to find my heart beating in my throat at my discovery. “Garcia,” I call her over. 

“What?” she asks. 

I point at the spot of splintering wood, mixed with something resembling blood, much to my horror. Slowly, I turn towards Penelope to find her with widened eyes and mouth dropped. Tears line her eyes while they flick from me to the banister and back. 

“You don’t think she– someone took her?” she asks, her voice just above a whisper. 

A bundle of nerves settles on my chest, my mind racing over possible scenarios, all of which becoming worse and worse by the second. “I-I don’t know.” My voice cracks ever so slightly, so I cough the emotion away. 

“What do we do?” Penelope queries, though I’m sure it’s meant to be a rhetorical question. 

I reach for my phone before making my way down the stairs again. “We’re gonna need reinforcement,” I tell her, dialing Hotch’s number. 

“Yeah, Reid?”

“Hotch, Penelope’s roommate has been taken. We need–We need to find her,” I blurt out as Penelope and I exit the apartment building. “Can we get everyone in?” 

Hotch sighs. “Are you sure?” he asks. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

“Okay. Is Garcia with you?” 

“Yes.” 

I can hear movement on his side of the line. “Tell her to get everyone to come in, that we have a case. I’m already here.” 

“Thanks, Hotch,” I say before hanging up the phone. 

Penelope and I get into her car, and though she was incredibly distraught, she manages to get us to the BAU safely. My hands are shaking as I clip on my badge and get into the elevator with Penelope. 

“You okay?” Pen asks me, probably noticing me biting the inside of my cheek nervously. 

Nodding my head, I stuff my hands into my pockets. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?” 

“Well, my best friend is missing, so not quite.” 

I place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze before the elevator doors opened and the two of us headed out into the office, meeting the rest of our team in the briefing room. All of our co-workers offer us a sympathetic look, but I try to ignore most of it as my head is filled with worry for y/n. 

“Thanks for coming in, guys,” Hotch starts with a stiff smile. “We all remember y/n y/l/n, Garcia’s roommate?” Everyone nods slowly, safe for me and Penelope. “We believe she’s been abducted from her apartment. Reid, can you give us what we know?” 

Nodding my head, I step up next to Hotch. “Yeah. Uhm, y/n and I were supposed to meet at Tortino’s tonight for dinner, but she never showed. We all know y/n is very punctual and she wouldn’t arrive late, so when she wasn’t there after twenty minutes, I tried calling her but it went straight to voicemail.” 

“Y/N was ready to leave when I saw her last, before I went out with Sam. She was excited about this date with Spencer, so she wouldn’t have stood him up,” Penelope continues, her eyes glazed over. 

I feel my cheeks heating up at the thought of y/n being as excited about tonight as me. “When we got to their place, the front door was open and when we got up to the apartment, there was blood on the banister across from the door.” 

“So, the UnSub must’ve grabbed her and possibly hit her head against the banister to knock her out?” Morgan suggests. A breath I didn’t know I was holding in deflates my lungs in relief. At least my colleagues are taking me seriously. 

A sob rakes through Penelope, causing my own eyes to glaze over a little bit. Though I don’t know y/n as well as Penelope does, we still had a connection. Otherwise we wouldn’t have set up this date. 

“Is there anyone that could’ve done this? Does she have any enemies?” JJ questions, but I turn to Penelope as she’s the one who would probably know this a little better than me. 

Penelope shakes her head almost feverishly. “No. No, y/n is too nice. Everyone loves her. She–” she stopped herself as a thought seemingly popped into her head. “She did once tell me about Dustin… She was drunk when she told me and I couldn’t quite understand, but he–” 

“He sexually harassed her,” I finish her story, only to witness Penelope flinching ever so slightly. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on me. “She flinched once when I touched her shoulder. I-I didn’t think any of it at the time, but it makes sense.” 

Nodding his head, Hotch turned to Penelope. “Garcia, what can you find on this Dustin?” he asked. 

Penelope started typing away on her laptop. The anxiety rumbled in my stomach as we waited for Garcia to find something about Dustin. All I can do now is hope that this is the guy that took our beautiful y/n and that we can find him and save her. 

“I-I can’t find him. There are over a hundred Dustins in Washington DC alone,” Penelope cries. 

Morgan places a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe, mama,” he soothes her. “Do we know where y/n could’ve met him?” Penelope shakes her head. 

“She never talked about any of her exes from before we lived together.” 

“Okay, are there any places she frequents? Hobbies she has?” JJ suggests and I watch the gears behind Penelope’s eyes get to work. As an idea pops in her head, Penelope starts typing away but stops and gasps all of a sudden. Her eyes widen slightly whilst a puff of air escapes from between her lips. 

“Y/N used to go to pilates quite a lot but she stopped when we moved in together. There’s a Dustin Campbell that used to teach classes there but he was suspended from the studio after sexual harassment alligations…” 

Rossi is next to speak up, “Do you have an address?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Penelope whispers. “I’ve sent it to your phones.” 

All of us nod our heads before gathering everything we need to get ready. Before I can step out, Penelope stops me by grabbing my arm. I look up at her, a little confused. “Bring her home safely, please.” 

I offer her a smile. “I will.” 

Donning our vests, the team barges up to the address Penelope has sent us. I feel the nerves settling back onto my chest. If this isn’t where Dustin has taken her, we have a dead lead and we’re much further away from finding y/n. 

“FBI! OPEN UP!” Derek calls out to the closed door. 

When no answer follows, he kicks down the door. The team files into the apartment where we find y/n, bound to a chair and gagged. She’s wearing a lavender dress, which I presume was the one she was going to wear for our date. Her makeup has run out, black streaks covering her cheeks and blood runs down from her forehead down to her temple and jaw. 

“Reid, get y/n,” Hotch orders, though I’m already holstering my weapon and moving over towards her. 

My heart is throbbing in my throat as I crouch down and unbind the gag. A sob rakes through her body. “Spencer.” Her cries causes my heart to drop as I continue cutting her loose. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey, you’re okay,” I whisper whilst cutting the last bind which causes her to collapse into me. I grasp onto her and try to stabilize her, but her full weight pushes me off balance and I stumble onto the floor with her into my arms. “You’re okay.” 

As I hold her close, I notice my co-workers bring out Dustin and while I signal to them that we’re all right here, I manage to shield y/n’s eyes from the guy that had abducted her. Once they are out of sight, I pull back a little. 

“Hey,” I say, my voice just above a whisper. “Lemme take you home. There’s someone who’s been worried about you.” 

Y/N shoots me a sad smile before we help each other up and I guide her outside. After having taken care of her head wound, Rossi quickly drops us off at her place where Penelope is waiting for us with some hot tea and blankets on the sofa. 

“Oh my God, you’re okay,” she exclaims as she envelops y/n into a hug. I let go just in time before I’m being squeezed into the hug, too. When Penelope lets go, she turns to me. “Okay, from now on, you’re always picking her up before going on a date, okay?” 

My eyes flick over towards y/n. “Wouldn’t want it any other way,” I say without fighting the smile. 

Y/N’s smile mirrors mine as she turns back to Penelope. “I’m sorry about your date with Sam.” 

“Oh, shut up, this was way more important and he knows it.” 

Heaving in a deep breath, y/n’s eyes flick from me to Pen and back. “I’m gonna go take a shower. I feel kinda gross.” 

“Sure, yeah. I’m gonna head out,” I tell her. “You’re in good hands now, so…” 

As I turn to leave, a hand placed on my arm stops me. “No, Spence. Stay. Please?” 

The request and the glint in her eyes has me weak in the knees. This girl could ask me anything and I would move heaven and earth to do it for her. I simply nod my response with a tender smile. With this reassurance, y/n turns on her heel and vanishes into the bathroom. 

Penelope hands me a cup of tea as we settle onto the couch to wait for y/n. There’s something going through the blonde’s mind that she doesn’t want to tell me and though I can tell it might be something I don’t want to hear, I still ask her. 

“Care to share what you’re thinking?” I ask. 

She looks at me from behind her mug that she has brought up to her lips to blow on the hot beverage. This really isn’t something I’m going to want to hear, judging from the fire in her eyes and the clench of her jaw. 

Your POV

When I come out of the shower, I can hear Spencer and Penelope talking in hushed whisper-shouts in the living room. I furrow my brows in confusion as I put on joggers and a T-shirt before inching closer towards the door to listen in. 

“You know I never meant any of this to happen, Penelope,” Spencer says. 

“I know, Spencer, but I just–” Penelope groans softly in frustration. “She’s the only family I got outside of you guys, I don’t want her to be taken away from me, too.” 

A rush of warmth and adoration rushes through me upon hearing Penelope’s words. I’ve always felt like Penelope was like family. With her being three years older than me, she’s always felt like an older sister, looking out for me wherever I went and whatever I do. I love her and I’m glad to know she feels the same about me. Though I never had any doubt about that. 

“That’s not gonna happen, Garcia, you know that. I actually like her a lot, okay? Seeing her tied up like that, disheveled and scared and hurt, it broke my heart. It broke my heart to the point that I made a vow to myself to never put her in harm’s way, to protect her with every fiber of my body even if it’s the last thing I’d do.” 

The words coming out of Spencer’s mouth turn my insides to mush. I leave the bathroom and shuffle into the living room where Spencer and Penelope are going face-to-face tensely. Penelope has that look on her face like his words had turned her to putty. It’s the same look she has whenever she watches a kitten video. All while Spencer’s brows are furrowed, telling me he’s serious. 

“Naw, Spencer, you like me?” I ask, jokingly, though I'm postively molten inside, capturing Spencer and Penelope’s attention. 

Spencer’s eyes widen while Penelope’s lips curl up into a sweet smile. “Y/N, I–I…” he stutters, but then falters and sighs. “I do. I like you. Of course I like you. A lot, actually.” 

As my eyes glaze over with tears, I notice Penelope getting up from the couch from the corner of my eye. She walks to her bedroom and when she passes me, she clutches my shoulder lovingly. The next person to move is Spencer. He moves over towards me and grabs my hands before leading me to the couch where we sit down together. 

“For the record, I like you a lot, too,” I tell him, my voice just above a whisper. 

I catch his lips twitching up into a beautiful smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he tells me before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You still kind of owe me a date.” 

Scoffing, I raise an eyebrow at him. “I still owe you a date?” I ask, earning a nod and a hum from him. “Excuse you, sir, but I was the one who was abducted by my evil ex. If anything, you owe me a date.” I poke his chest at the ‘you’. 

“And I saved you from him,” he says, a hint of pride hidden in his voice. 

“Hmm,” I hum and tuck my feet beneath me. “That you did.” My eyes flick down to his lip before returning them to his honey-colored eyes. “Thank you for saving me, SSA Dr. Reid.” I lean up and kiss his cheek just as he turns his face, causing my lips to land on his. 

Gasping, we both pull back and my eyes search his for confirmation and consent to kiss him again. My questions are quickly answered when Spencer’s hand reaches up to my jaw to cup my face and dips down to lock his lips with mine. 

A zip strikes through me, starting at my lips and rushing straight down to my toes. I tilt my head to the right to deepen the kiss, pushing myself closer into him. Our kiss becomes all the more eager before it turns sensuous. 

I pull away, much to my own dismay, to gasp for air and place my hand on Spencer’s chest. Underneath it, I can feel his heart beating in overtime. My cheeks heat up once I realize I just kissed the guy I was supposed to go on a first date with. His honey eyes stare into mine as if they’re searching for some sort of sign that I did actually enjoy our kiss. 

“You taste like cherries,” he whispers before he licks his lips to taste it again. 

“It’s my lip balm,” I say with a smile, but he quickly takes over that smile with his own lips. Giggling, I pull away, earning a confused glance from him. He almost looks scared that he’s taking advantage of me, like I didn’t even want to kiss him. 

“What is it?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear. 

“You still owe me a date.” 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

[vidavalor]

So if Aziraphale didn't know that Crowley had lost his flat... but then the show also establishes in 2.01 pretty early on that Aziraphale knows that Crowley is in frequent contact with Shax, even if Aziraphale doesn't personally meet her until "The Hitchhiker" then...

...does Aziraphale think that Crowley is living with Shax? lol

Does he see Crowley keeping the plants in The Bentley to protect them and getting plenty of use out of the bookshop by staying over more often as Crowley forced by Hell to have a terrible roommate?

Did he one time express sympathy to Crowley about how difficult it must be to lose his space and Crowley realized what he thought and that this was a good excuse? Did he start spinning yarns about Shax and how terrible it was, in case he ever got caught out napping in The Bentley around the corner from the bookshop?

Is Aziraphale secretly jealous that Crowley's shacked up with an apparently not hideous demon that Crowley might be bitching about just a *little too much* that makes Aziraphale wonder if he secretly likes her? Especially since Crowley's a traitor and he's staying there so she won't mind being seen with him and he's indicated he doesn't really hate her company and he's taken her to the park and is teaching her demon on Earth stuff and honestly...

...if I had been going through that since the lockdowns with the hot demon I loved and I was as adorably petty as Aziraphale is, I, too, would take the completely unnecessary step of leaving a gorgeous, amnesiac archangel wrapped in nothing but my blanket in my bookshop and having Crowley meet me in the coffee shop after the whole neighborhood had seen said archangel-- whom Crowley once called "beautiful" *on a date lol* in 1827-- show up on my doorstep in the nude and hug me hello, knowing that there was basically no human on earth who could resist mentioning that... only to *not tell Crowley why we were meeting in the coffee shop while we were actually *in* the coffee shop and, instead, bringing him back to get jump-scared by Gabriel wearing my tartan bedsheet around the bookshop*...all proving I just could have had asked Crowley to *come to the bookshop* and skipped the entire step of the coffee shop scene... meaning that it only exists to make Crowley a little jealous and let him think that someone stayed the night in the bookshop that wasn't him.

You got Miranda Richardson in a new costume, Crowley? Well, I got me himbo Don Draper. He's got his naked ass on my chair that you *live* to lounge around in and the sun's barely come up, my dearest.

Move your damn plants in, Crowley.

[daisynik7]

Rush

Chapter 3: After Party

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: underaged drinking, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blowjob, daddy kink, cum eating, corruption kink

Summary: Alpha Tau and Sigma Nu Kappa volunteer together at the Trost District Food Bank. After the event, the brothers invite the sisters back to Mike’s house for a kickback, where you revisit a familiar room.

Notes: Chapter title inspired by “After Party” by Don Toliver

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Rush Series Masterlist

----------

A week after the first exchange of the semester, Alpha Tau hosts a volunteer event at the charity of their choice: the Trost District Food Bank. That Saturday morning, the sisters of Sigma Nu Kappa meet them at the front of their fraternity house, waiting for the charter bus to arrive. 

Eren has tried all week not to think about what happened the night of the exchange. It was all just a casual hookup. Nothing major, no big deal. He even told her it would be a one-time kind of thing. He isn’t trying to get tied down by one girl, especially not one in Sigma Nu Kappa.

He won’t admit it out loud, but he cares to some degree about his reputation. Why would he hook up with a Sigma Nu Kappa when he could get an Eta Iota girl? Or a Delta Mu? They are the hottest girls on campus. Perfect for him to play around with and live out his frat boy dream.  

He has caught himself a few times this week, jerking off in the shower, thinking about the way his fingers slid in and out of her pussy. The way she sucked him in and clenched around him, so tight and wet. How she fucked herself onto his fingers without him even telling her to. How she took his whole cock into her mouth, swallowing his load without complaint. For an innocent virgin, she sure acted like a freak. And that intrigues him. But he’s sure he’ll find another girl in the other sororities that is as eager and willing to indulge in his depraved fantasies. 

No one else knows about what they did that night. Mikasa didn’t even bother searching for him or her roommate after getting caught up in a riveting game of beer pong against Hange. It seems like they both had a mutual understanding to keep their little rendezvous a secret. 

Still, it’s in his mind to try and avoid her at today’s event. Just to save themselves from any awkwardness. Knowing how embarrassed she got over a simple Truth or Dare game, he assumes she’ll be extra fragile if she were to see him today. 

Eren hangs out in the back of the crowd, next to Jean and Marco. Armin stands next to Erwin in the front, volunteering to help organize everyone into groups. Subconsciously, he gets on his tip toes to look at the SNK sisters, huddling together in their matching sorority letters. He spots her, standing beside Mikasa, arms linked together like two best friends. He wonders if she told Mikasa what happened between them, how his best friend would react knowing he’s corrupted her precious little roommate. 

Remembering not to think about her, he shakes away his current thoughts and tries to engage in conversation with Jean and Marco to distract himself. They all start loading into the bus, sisters first. He’s the last passenger and takes the open seat at the very front, next to Hange, unfortunately. 

It’s a 20-minute ride to the food bank, which feels like an hour to Eren as he desperately tries to avoid Hange’s invasive questions. “What’s your blood type?” “What’s your workout regimen?” “Have you ever broken any bones?”

When they’re finally there, they all exit the bus and gather in a warehouse, surrounded by pallets full of canned goods and prepackaged foods. The food bank coordinators greet them and explain their tasks for the day. When they’re done, Erwin and Armin go around, assigning each person to a group. 

“Eren, you’ll be in the corner over there, where Reiner is,” Armin informs him. 

He goes towards Reiner, who is already joined by Mike and eventually Erwin. They wait as the sisters of Sigma Nu Kappa get themselves organized. A few minutes later, three sisters walk towards them. Eren immediately recognizes Annie and Petra. When they get closer, he sees who their third member is.

It’s her. Mikasa’s roommate. The virgin. 

Fuck.

~~~

You decide not to tell Mikasa about your little sex-capade with her childhood best friend. Not because you think she would react in some type of way, but because you feel embarrassed for even having that experience to begin with. 

The whole week, you try your best not to think about Eren. You succeed at this, for the most part. His harsh words and blank expression are always at the forefront of your mind. But the memory of him fucking you with his fingers and calling you a good girl sneaks its way in and makes your pussy throb. Makes you want him, despite his asshole behavior.

Naturally, you feel nervous to see him at this volunteer event. No matter how much you remind yourself that Eren Jaeger is a dick, you still don’t trust yourself enough to keep your cool around him. At least you’ll be able to avoid him today. It’s just a volunteering event, there’s no way you’ll need mingle with him.

That’s what you think. Until you’re assigned to the same group.

You, Annie, and Petra are directed by Hange to join a group at one corner of the warehouse, sorting through some of the canned goods. As you make your way over, you see Eren, man bun and all, wearing the same type of joggers he wore a week ago. The same ones you shoved down his legs to suck his thick cock. 

Pull it together, you think to yourself. He probably hasn’t thought about you since. He probably doesn’t even remember your name. 

You hide behind your sisters, wanting to avoid seeing him as much as possible. Petra is her bubbly self as usual, introducing herself to a tall, blond brother who you didn’t see at last week’s party. His name is Reiner, and he wears a bored expression on his face the whole time as Petra talks animatedly to him. 

When mingling time is done, you stick close to Annie, who has since apologized to you for what she did at the Truth or Dare game. There are three different pallets, each one holding a huge box filled with canned goods. Your task is to go through each one, check the expiration dates, and separate the vegetables from the fruits. After a few minutes of sorting through cans, chatting casually with Annie, Petra comes over to your side. “You two should mingle with the Alpha Tau brothers,” she suggests.

“How can we ‘mingle’ when we’re too busy sorting through these cans,” Annie says, sarcastically.

“Well, you two are chatting away with each other just fine, I expect you to do the same with the Alpha Tau brothers! That’s the whole point of this collab!”

With a roll of her eyes, Annie relents. “Fine. Who do you want me to talk to?”

“Well, that Reiner guys seems –”

“Not him. Anyone else, besides him.”

That’s right; you remember Annie mentioning her dislike for Reiner a few weeks ago.

“Then go talk to Mike. He’s nice.”

Annie takes her time walking to another box, leaving you with Petra. She looks at you with a kind smile. “So, think you can take two guys at once?”

“Huh?” 

“Oops, didn’t mean to make that sound so dirty, ha ha! I mean, I’m going to have two of the brothers help you on this side. Eren and Reiner.” Before you can protest, Petra waves over in the distance, calling for them. You pretend to focus on two different cans of corn as they approach her.

“Okay, Eren and Reiner. This is my sorority sister.” Petra introduces you, then she skips away to join Erwin at his box. “Have fun, you three!”

You drop the cans to look at them. They both have blank expressions on their face. Eren crosses his arms over his chest, gaze on the ground. Holding your hand out to the blond, you greet, “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, giving you a half-assed handshake. 

“Nice to see you again, Eren.” 

He turns his head to you and nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Great. There’s two of them. 

You scoot to one side of the box, trying your best focus on the task. Eren and Reiner stand beside each other, the blond closer to you, as they start sorting through the cans. It’s silent at first, until Reiner starts talking to his brother. You eavesdrop on their conversation.

“There’s another Eta Iota party tonight. Hopefully you can make it this time.”

“Yeah, I should be able to,” Eren replies.

“Dude, those chicks are wild. Hooked up with two girls last week. You’re fresh meat, so they’ll fucking love you.”

It takes all your willpower not to roll your eyes at what this creep is saying. 

“Erwin is so fucking lame. He told me and Bertolt off for not attending the exchange last week. Fucking prick. Why should I attend a party with absolutely zero girls I’d like to fuck in there?”

Either he’s totally forgotten you exist, or he really doesn’t give a shit. Either way, you keep to yourself, wishing you had brought your headphones to drown out the bullshit. From the corner of your eye, you see Eren glance at you as his brother continues to berate your sorority. “The most boring, ugliest chicks on campus, and we’re the sad fuckers paired with them. What a fucking joke.”

“Reiner,” Eren starts, but before he can get a word in, you snap.

“Well, fuck you too, Reiner. I hope for your own sake, and for the sake of those poor girls that had to fuck you last week, you at least have a big cock to compensate for your shitty personality.”

He turns to you with a cocky smirk. “Maybe I do have a big cock. Bet you’d like to see it.”

“Only if I need to induce vomiting,” you retort. 

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with it anyways. Everyone knows SNK girls are all prudes. Right, Eren?” 

He focuses on the food in the box. Without looking up, he mutters, “Yeah.” 

You should have expected this from him based on what he said to you last week. But you still can’t help yourself from feeling disappointed in his response. At least this will make it easier to forget about him and move on. 

Unsure how to react, you turn your attention back to the canned goods, hoping you can block out Reiner and Eren for the next hour. You’re tempted to ask Petra to switch to a different group, but you don’t want to give Reiner the satisfaction of thinking he got under your skin, which he did. So, you just sort through the vegetables and fruits in silence.

A couple of minutes pass, then you hear Reiner say, “I gotta take a shit. I’ll be back.” He leaves toward the bathroom, leaving you and Eren alone. 

~~~

When Reiner is out of earshot, Eren clears his throat. “Hey. Are you okay?”

She sorts through the cans, pretending not to hear him. Eren moves a little closer and repeats, “Are you okay?”

Without looking up, she responds, “Yeah, sure.”

He maintains his neutral expression, but inside, he can’t help but chuckle at her repeating the same “cool guy” response he gave to her earlier. He finds it amusing.  

“Sorry about Reiner. He’s a dick.”

She scoffs but doesn’t say anything else. Taking the hint, he decides to stop talking about his big bro and ask, “So, how have you been?”

“Do you really care?” 

He’s surprised by the venom in her voice. “Hey, I’m just trying to keep things cordial between us. Keep the peace,” he offers.

Finally, she looks up at him and says, “Well, I can’t just stand back and listen to some asshole talk shit about people I care about.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m the same way.”

They stare at each other for a couple seconds, not speaking. Studying one another. Eren wishes he was a mind reader so he can tell what she’s thinking.

He makes small talk, asking her about her major and her hometown. He finds out she’s from Krolva District and majors in bioengineering. He reveals that he’s from Shinganshina and is doing philosophy. 

“What do you want to do with your philosophy major?” she asks.

“I’m trying to get into law school, actually. I want to be a lawyer.” 

“Oh nice. I can see you doing that.”

He smirks. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I can totally see you using some Jedi mind tricks to manipulate someone into doing something, like confessing.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I guess it depends. You can use it to get whatever you want from people.”

For some reason, at those words, his mind goes back to last week.

Let me make you feel good.

Fuck yourself on my fingers. Just like that.

Suddenly, he blurts out, “Last week was fun, by the way.” Shit. He wasn’t planning to mention it, but he does. He rubs the back of his neck, a bit flustered by his admission.

She breaks eye contact and looks down at the ground. “Yeah, it was.”

Maybe we can do it again, he’s tempted to say. There he goes again, thinking with his dick and not his brain. He can’t help it. His mind is filled with the memory of her on top of him, a moaning mess, rubbing herself against his hand. His fingers covered in her shiny cum, so tantalizing he almost stuck it in his mouth to taste. 

Why is his mind so occupied by this girl? He barely knows her. She’s not even his type. What about her is pulling him in? And how can he stop it?

With perfect timing, Reiner returns, taking the same spot in between them. “Damn, we’ve still got a whole hour left of this shit,” he grunts.

Eren glances over and sees her focus back on the canned goods. He wonders if she’s thinking about him the same way he’s thinking about her. Probably not. Even he can admit that he acted like a dick after their encounter. 

As Reiner babbles on about stupid shit, Eren tries to avoid looking at her for the remainder of the time. Tonight, he’ll find a hot Eta Iota girl to fuck and forget about her. That’s what he needs to do to move on from the girl that has taken over his thoughts the past week. Simple and easy as that.

When the event is done, everyone gets into the bus to head back to campus. When it pulls into the front of the fraternity house, Levi stands up to speak.

“Alpha Tau brothers and Sigma Nu Kappa sisters. Thank for a successful volunteer event at the Trost District Food Bank. The coordinators are very pleased with our work and extend their gratitude. Also, Mike has another announcement he’d like to make. 

Mike gets up and announces, “I’d like to invite you all over to my place again for a little kickback tonight. BYOB. I’ll order some pizzas and we can just chill.”

Mostly everyone is excited for that news, except Reiner and Bertolt, who maintain their stoic expressions. Eren tries to match their energy, knowing he’s going to be out partying with them tonight. 

When they all exit the bus, Eren catches up with Mikasa and Armin, who he’s barely spoken to all day. 

“Eren! How did it go with your group?” Armin asks. 

“It was alright, I guess.”

Mikasa sighs. “I wish I was in either of your groups. I was stuck with Jean, and he kept trying to flirt with me.” 

Armin laughs. “That’s Jean for you. Anyways, will you be going to Mike’s tonight, Mikasa?”

“Probably. We’ll ask Petra to buy some alcohol for us so we can bring something. You guys are gonna be there, right?”

“Yeah, of course!” Armin exclaims. 

Eren doesn’t say anything until they both look at him, waiting for an answer. 

“What?” he asks, playing dumb.

“You’re going to be at Mike’s tonight, right Eren?”

Nope, not this time. Armin and Mikasa will not guilt him again. “I’m going to an Eta Iota party with Reiner.”

“Eta Iota?!”

“Reiner?!”

“Look, I just want to check it out, okay? It’s not a big deal,” he explains. 

His two friends stare at him for a few seconds. Mikasa’s eyebrows are furrowed, and a prominent frown is apparent on her face. Armin looks nervous and concerned. 

Eren shrugs. “Seriously, it’s one party. I just want to meet some of the other people.” 

After they exchange a few more concerned looks at each other, Armin relents. “Okay. Well, have fun.”

Mikasa remains silent and looks down at the ground. 

It’s not like he needs the permission of his friends to do what he wants. But he’d rather be honest with them instead of sneaking around and lying about it. Soon enough, they’ll figure out that nothing will stop him from getting what he wants. And tonight, no one will stop him from going to this party.

“Hey, Mikasa. Ready for lunch?” Mikasa’s roommate walks towards them with a smile. Eren notices how she avoids his gaze. 

“Yeah, I’m starving. Armin, want to come with us? We’re just going to the dining hall.”

“Sure.”

Eren, a little peeved, jokes, “Thanks for the invite.”

With narrowed eyes, Mikasa responds, “I thought you would be getting lunch with your big bro, Reiner.” 

“It doesn’t suit you to be childish, Mikasa,” he responds. 

“Whatever. Have fun at your Eta Iota party, I guess.”

“Maybe I’ll come by before to pre-game. We can hang out for a bit.” He looks at Mikasa’s roommate when he says this, trying to gauge her reaction. She just gazes down at the ground, avoiding eye contact. 

Mikasa links arms with her and states, “Fine. We’re going to lunch now.” They start walking away towards the dining hall. 

Before following the girls, Armin sticks around to warn, “Be careful, Eren. With Reiner.” His tone is serious.

“You worry too much. He’s my big bro. He’s cool.”

“I know you think that. But Annie has told me some stuff about him. You’re not like him, Eren. You shouldn’t try to be like him.”

“I don’t know what I’m like yet, Armin. That’s what I’m trying to figure it out. And you and Mikasa need to let me find that out on my own.” Why is everyone on his case? Why can’t they just let him be?

With one more concerned look, Armin waves goodbye and catches up with the girls, leaving Eren alone in front of the frat house.

~~~

After lunch, you and Mikasa head back to your dorm room to study and relax. Mike’s party isn’t till later in the night, so you take a much needed nap while Mikasa heads to the gym to work out. 

You take a shower and get ready, opting to wear more comfortable clothes since it’s supposed to be a more low-key party compared to last week’s exchange. As you sit at the edge of your bed, waiting for Mikasa to change into her stylish athletic wear, she brings up Eren.

“I think Reiner is a bad influence on Eren.”

Mikasa hasn’t brought him up all week. The last she spoke of him was after the exchange, when the two of you were situated in your beds, recounting the night. She teased you for thinking he was the hottest guy in the room. She even apologized on his behalf for refusing to kiss you during the game, still completely unaware of what he did to you right after. So, the sudden mention of his name startles you.

You didn’t tell her what happened earlier today at the volunteer event. How Reiner said awful things about the sorority, how Eren blindly agreed with his big brother. It doesn’t seem important enough to report to her or to anyone else. A small part of you also doesn’t want to rat out Eren for his behavior. But it seems it’s already obvious to his closest friends.

Feigning ignorance, you ask, “What do you mean?”

“Annie said Reiner is a typical frat boy. I’m nervous that Eren is going to try to be like that.”

Mikasa also doesn’t know what Eren told you, only minutes after meeting you for the first time:

Guys join frats to party and fuck, and that’s what I intend to do.

She continues. “I know Eren isn’t like that. But today, he told me and Armin he’s going to an Eta Iota party with Reiner, and I just can’t help but worry.”

“What are you worried about?” 

“That he’s going to make some bad decisions tonight, under the guidance of his big brother.” 

What can you even say to Mikasa right now? Do you agree with her, knowing fully well that Eren is on a mission to be the biggest fuck boy on campus? It’s only going to make her worry more. Trying to calm her nerves, you reassure her. “You know Eren better than anyone. If you say he isn’t like that, then I’m sure you’re right. Besides, he’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions. It’s not your responsibility to look after him.”

Before she can respond, you add, “You’ve got to live your life too. You can’t spend every waking moment worrying about your friend.”

She frowns, still anxious but contemplating your advice. Eventually, she agrees, “Yeah, you’re right.” It’s unconvincing, but it seems enough to appease her for the time being. 

Once you’re both ready, the two of you walk to the Sigma Nu Kappa house to meet the rest of your pledge class and Petra, who has kindly offered to provide the alcohol tonight for the underaged sisters. You all walk together to Mike’s off-campus house, carrying White Claws inconspicuously in tote bags. 

When Petra knocks on the door, you’re all greeted happily by Mike, who ushers you in. “Welcome, ladies. Pizzas already here, so help yourselves.”

Most of the senior sisters are already here, including Hange and Nanabe. There are several Alpha Tau brothers in attendance, like Erwin and Levi, who currently stand in the kitchen conversing with each other. All the new brothers are in attendance, except for Eren. They are gathered on the couch, playing Mario Kart on the big screen. Overall, it’s less crowded than the exchange last week, but still lively. 

You grab a box of pizza to bring to the couch and crack open a White Claw, watching Jean, Connie, Armin, and Marco race each other. Mikasa and Sasha sit beside you, grabbing a piece of pizza and sipping on their own hard seltzer. When one of the races is finished, Jean reaches over to grab a slice and say, “So, I heard Jaeger is going to an Eta Iota party tonight.”

“Who told you?” Mikasa questions.

“Armin mentioned it when I asked if he’s coming.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? I’d much rather be here with you.” He directs his smile at Mikasa, who blushes. You try to hide a grin behind your White Claw. 

Sasha adds, “Annie’s roommate is in Eta Iota. Hitch Dreyse.”

“Is she hot?” Connie asks, joining in their conversation.

“Yeah, she’s cute. She was in my group during recruitment. Want me to introduce you to her?” 

As Sasha slides next to Connie on the other side of the couch to inspect Hitch’s Instagram page, Armin takes the now empty spot next to you. “Hey Mikasa, have you heard anything from Eren? He did say he might come here to pre-game.”

In a quiet voice, Mikasa responds, “I haven’t heard anything.”

“Maybe I should text him. See where he is right now.”

In a more assertive voice, Mikasa says, “Armin, stop. We can’t keep worrying about Eren. Just…let him be.”

A few seconds pass before Armin sighs and agrees. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sensing the need to change the mood, you pat both of their hands and exclaim, “You know what will get your minds off Eren? A drinking game! Let’s go!”

You pull on their hands until they reluctantly get up, following you into the living room. A group of people, mostly the seniors, sit on the ground surrounding a ring of playing cards face down with a large beer mug in the middle.

“My little babies!” Hange exclaims. “We’re about to start King’s Cup! Come join us!”

After a brief explanation of the rules, the game starts. The oldest in the circle is elected to go first. Erwin draws a card and reveals a four of hearts. “Alright, ladies. Drink.”

“Wait, why? What does a four mean again?”

“C’mon, Erwin. You have to say it properly. Four is for whores. All you ladies drink.”

Erwin furrows his thick eyebrows. “I’m not going to say that about these lovely women.”

“It’s just for the game, idiot. Everyone knows we don’t mean it,” Levi clarifies, as he goes next. “Ahhh, a six. Drink up, dicks.” 

Copious amounts of alcohol are consumed as more cards are drawn. Mikasa pulls out an ace, meaning everyone must drink until she stops. She ends up chugging her newly opened White Claw, making everyone else finish whatever alcohol they had in hand. Armin draws an eight, prompting him to choose you as his “mate”; you have to drink every time he does. Hange has to “bust a jive” when she reveals a five, to which she performs a sad attempt at twerking, resulting in Levi throwing a few ones at her from his pockets. When Mike draws another eight a few turns later, he strategically chooses Armin as his buddy, a naughty expression on his face. Feeling a little tipsy already, you groan, “So now every time Mike drinks, I also have to drink? What the fuck!” 

Throughout the next hour, more asses are shaken, four different rounds of Never Have I Ever is played, three people pour a large amount of their liquor into the beer mug after drawing a king. And unfortunately for you, the chain of drinking buddies expands to Erwin and Levi, so whenever either of them drink, you have to as well. 

A very drunk Armin pulls the last king from the cards. His name is chanted as he guzzles down the nasty looking beer mug like a champ, ending the game. Everyone gets up to disperse, either to get more alcohol in the kitchen or to walk off the drunkenness. As they pass, the Alpha Tau brothers pat Armin’s back as he gives them a goofy grin, eyes glazed over with intoxication. 

On your way towards the kitchen, Mike walks besides you, giving you a playful nudge. “You were a trooper, having to deal with all your drinking mates.”

You poke your finger at his chest. “You’re the one who started it! I blame you for this.” 

He smirks as he brushes a few hairs away from your forehead. “Don’t worry. You’re still cute when you’re drunk.”

Is he hitting on you? A senior? The Mike Zacharias? 

For some reason, you think about Eren. What’s he doing right now? He’s probably flirting with some Eta Iota girl, maybe even fucking her at this very moment. Doing exactly what he wants to do. What’s stopping you from doing the same? Why can’t you flirt a little with someone else? It’s not like you and Eren are dating. You’re not even friends. Barely even acquaintances. 

Why can’t you shake this lingering feeling of guilt?

You give Mike a polite smile and mutter a shy, “Thank you.” 

“Do you have a boyfriend, princess?”

Your heart skips a beat when he calls you that. It’s sweet hearing him use a pet name like this. But something possesses you in this moment to lie. Not because you want to reject his advances. The reason has to do with Eren.

Eren, with his lazy man bun and bad boy attitude. Eren, who acts likes he doesn’t give a shit to impress his big brother Reiner. Eren, whose fingers have christened your body, making you feel pleasure you’ve never felt before in your life. Making you crave more of his touch. Making you wonder what other obscene things he can do to your virginal body.

There’s a twisted part of you that wants him to be the first to defile you. To ruin you.

So, you lie. “Yeah. I do,” you tell Mike.

He reacts kindly, putting his hands up in surrender with a grin. “Got it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m flattered. Really. You’re sweet.”

He keeps smiling at you when he says, “He’s a lucky guy. I hope he tells you how beautiful you are every day. I know I would.” He heads into the other room, leaving you alone in your thoughts.

God. It’s almost physically painful to watch him walk away. What the hell are you doing? Here’s this guy, older, mature, sweet, and you turn him away? Because of someone who doesn’t even try to pretend to give a shit about you. He’s already told you it was a one-time thing. You’re not interesting enough for him. Why are you still holding out hope? Where’s your self-respect?

Again, there’s that twisted part of your brain that makes excuses for him. Today at the volunteer event, when it was just the two of you, he made it a point to mention, Last week was fun, by the way. Why would he bring it up if it didn’t mean something? 

You make your way to Mikasa, who leans on the counter in the kitchen chatting with Levi. Drunk and dizzy, you rest your head on her shoulder, face hot and breathing shallow. 

“Is she okay?” You hear Levi ask her. 

“She’s drunk. Here, drink some water,” she tells you, shoving a cup to your lips. You tip it into your mouth sloppily, dribbling on yourself.

“She should rest in the guest room upstairs,” Levi advises. 

Taking his recommendation, Mikasa leads you upstairs into the bathroom to do your business and splash cold water onto your face. The two of you walk past Mike’s room and slip into the one you hid in last week. You flop onto the bed, still dizzy and antsy as she forces you to hydrate more.

She brushes a few hairs away to feel your face. “Geez, your cheeks are burning up. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, think I just need to take a quick nap.”

“You sure you’ll be okay in here? We’ll just be watching a movie a downstairs.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you assure her. “Just come get me when you’re ready to leave.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything. And finish the rest of that water.” 

She gives you a small smile before closing the door behind her, leaving you in the dark. Moonlight shines dimly through the window. The bed feels cool against your burning skin. You sit up to drink more water, trying your best to sober up. You can already feel the effects of the alcohol wearing off as you continue to hydrate. Resting your head on the pillow, you close your eyes for a several minutes, using the distant sound of the party below as white noise. You can’t sleep, but the least you could do is try to rest. 

After a while, you open your eyes again, suddenly aware of your current location. Being in this room makes you think about Eren. You can’t help it. This is where you had your first kiss. Your first sexual experience. You feel a sensation growing between your legs as you remember the dirty details of last week. His fingers disappearing in you, this thumb caressing your clit tenderly, his cock sliding in and out of your wet mouth, his cum shooting into the back of your throat. 

Fuck. It’s too much. Too good. You reach down, fingers past the hem of your leggings and into your panties, where you feel yourself already wet from your arousal. With your middle finger, you gather up your slick and rub small circles around your clit. You let the pleasure build up before you start moaning louder, tapping away at your swelling bud. With your free hand, you slide your leggings and panties past your ass, leaving your pussy bare as you keep touching yourself.

You don’t think about getting caught in the act until you hear the bedroom door shut and a familiar silhouette walking towards you. 

~~~

Eren arrives at the Eta Iota party already tipsy. Him, Reiner, and Bertolt pre-gamed in the Alpha Tau house before arriving to the off-campus party. When Reiner knocks on the door, a girl named Sandra greets them. “Hey Reiner, glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it. I brought my little bro, Eren.” 

“I should introduce him to Hitch. She’ll be excited to meet him.”

She leads them through the packed house. There are men from other fraternities gathered there, mingling with the other Eta Iota sisters. Eren doesn’t recognize anybody, making him feel out of place. They get a few curt looks from strangers as they pass by.

He’s surprised and confused to finally see a familiar face in the kitchen. Annie stands against the countertop next to girl with a light brown bob, both sipping on jungle juice. When Annie sees Eren, her eyes narrow. “What are you doing here, Jaeger?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Annie.”

“My roommate Hitch here forced me to go to this party, so I had no choice. I’m a bit disappointed to see you here with them.” She glares at Reiner and Bertolt, who are socializing with some men from another fraternity. 

Eren shrugs. “They invited me, so I didn’t really have a choice either.”

Hitch introduces herself, then says, “I heard Alpha Tau is partnered with Sigma Nu Kappa this semester. How’s that going?”

Another shrug. “It’s alright, I guess.”

“I know most of the new girls in there. We all went through recruitment together. I almost joined SNK because of how much I got along with them.”

“But you didn’t.”

Embarrassed, she looks down at her side. “No, I didn’t.”

Annie continues to study Eren carefully. “Why does it seem like you have something against Sigma Nu Kappa? Are you letting that idiot convince you that we’re not cool enough?”

“I don’t let other people influence how I think or feel,” Eren states. He clenches his fist, feeling agitated that she would even suggest something like that.

“So, what is it then?”

“Maybe I just want to meet some new people. Explore my options.”

She laughs sarcastically. “You sound like a typical fuck boy.”

Having enough of whatever this is, Eren pours liquor into a cup and hangs out on the couch. He scans the room, observing the girls of Eta Iota. He doesn’t particularly feel drawn to any of them. And no one really approaches him all night, except for a few guys who try to start conversation. He’s been told that he comes off a little intense, maybe even intimidating. But he didn’t expect to be ignored by the Eta Iotas. That’s not what was promised to him by Reiner. 

By midnight, he decides to leave. Reiner and Bertolt have been busy all night, playing beer pong and flirting with girls that don’t want anything to do with him. He doesn’t bother letting them know he’s heading out; they won’t care. 

As he makes his way back on campus, he checks his phone. No texts from either Armin or Mikasa. It’s out of character for his friends. It must have finally gotten through to them to not bother him anymore. Still, he doesn’t mind hanging out, especially after a disappointing night. 

He turns around and starts walking towards Mike’s house, where he knows they’ll be. When he knocks on the door, Connie answers, eyes bloodshot with a lazy smile plastered across his face. “Fucking finally.” He looks over his shoulder to yell out, “Eren’s here y’all!”

Stepping foot into the house, Eren sees a crowd of Alpha Tau brothers and SNK sisters gathered around the couch and floor, watching a movie. The lights are dimmed, pizza boxes stacked on one of the tables, and everyone has a drink in hand.

“Eren! You’re here!” Armin exclaims, currently cushioned between Jean and Mikasa on the couch.

“Look who decided to join us,” Mikasa remarks, with a slight smile. 

“How was the Eta Iota party?” Jean asks.

Eren shrugs and answers, “It was okay.”

Levi yells out, “Jaeger, pull up a chair. We’re watching Twilight. Every time someone does something cringey, we drink.”

“Which is apparently every two minutes,” Petra adds. 

“Yeah, sure. Let me use the bathroom first.”

Mikasa asks, “Since you’ll be up there, can you check on my roommate? She’s just upstairs in the spare bedroom, taking a nap.”

His ears perk up at this. So that’s where she is. 

He agrees and walks upstairs, heading to the bathroom first. After he washes his hands, he studies his reflection in the mirror for a good minute, fixing any loose strands from his bun and swiping away any stray baby hairs from his forehead. Satisfied with his appearance, he steps quietly across the hall and presses his ear up to the guest bedroom door, listening for any sign that she’s still sleeping. There’s soft moaning coming from the other side of the door. It’s her moaning; there’s no mistaking it. He turns the handle slowly and creaks the door open just enough to peek inside. 

Through the darkness, he sees her figure on the bed, on her back with thighs spread wide, bucking her hips against her fingers.

He doesn’t think. His body just moves. He enters the room and shuts the door behind him, sauntering towards her like a predator stalking its prey. When she finally notices him, he expects her to jump and retract her hand from her arousal, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stares at him, eyes locked on his as she continues to caress her clit. 

“Eren.”

The way she moans out his name drives him crazy. He stands at the end of the bed, watching her, feeling incredibly aroused. Her pants aren’t even pulled all the way down. As if she couldn’t waste a second to start touching herself.

He strips her leggings and panties off her body then kneels on the bed, right in front of the show she’s putting on for him. In a low voice, he demands, “Show me how you fuck yourself.”

Obeying, she slips her middle finger inside her slit, pussy squelching with each thrust. With her wet finger, she starts massaging her clit. Filthy moans pour out of her lips as she continues to pleasure herself in front of him. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, palming his erection through his pants. He watches as her finger glistens with her own slick. Unable to deny it any longer, he grabs at her wrist and sticks it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over every inch skin. Finally tasting the alluring nectar that’s been on his mind all week. He savors how luscious it feels on his tongue. It’s immaculate. Chaste. Only for him.

Is it the alcohol? He didn’t even drink that much. He’s pretty much sober now. But he feels absolutely feral, giving in to every wicked desire he has in his fucked-up head. The one thing he wants more than anything is to dive in and devour her. To drink her up until this unbelievable thirst is quenched. He wants it. He needs it.

Positioning his face between her thighs, he teases her with the tip of his tongue. She jolts at the sensation, crying out, “Fuck!”

Smirking at her reaction, he leans in closer and coos, “Can I eat this pretty pussy out? It looks so fucking scrumptious. It’s making my mouth water.”

“Fuck, Eren. You’re so fucking nasty,” she whines.

“Yeah, I am. And so are you.” He rubs his middle finger up and down her folds, pressing against her clit each time he reaches it. “Finger fucking yourself like that in front of me. Shoving your cum coated fingers down my throat. Fucking nasty slut.” 

She squirms above him, his face dangerously close to her arousal, spraying his saliva over her pussy with every filthy word he spits out to her. “You act all innocent and shy, but when you’re with me, you’re just a dirty, little slut, huh? Tell me you want my tongue on you. I need to hear you say it.” 

“Fuck, Eren. Put your tongue on me. Eat me out.”

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls. He latches his lips around her clit and starts rubbing his tongue on it, side to side. Her little bud sticks out perfectly for him, puffy and swollen from stimulation as he gobbles her up. He slips his middle and index fingers into her slick entrance and fucks her, relishing the lewd sounds that she makes. She’s just as tight as she was a week ago. Still a pristine virgin for him. His cock twitches thinking about how he’ll ruin her. Not tonight. But soon.

He goes completely wild, slobbering all over her, making the nastiest noises. Her moans become whimpers as she loses herself in the intense pleasure. He reaches his free hand down to his stiff cock but uses all his strength to stop himself. If he jerks off right now, he knows he’ll come. He’s so fucking turned on from eating her out, he almost feels like he can come untouched.

He goes at it for several more minutes, not stopping even when her orgasm is palpable on his glistening fingers. He slides them out to slurp the cum flowing out of her. “Look at this. All for me,” he hums, alternating between licking her slit and sucking her clit with his wet lips. 

“Fuck, Eren. Feels so fucking good,” she moans, overstimulated and spent from her climax.  

“You’re such a good girl, just taking it like this. Coming all over my fucking mouth,” he praises.

“Fuck, daddy.”

Daddy. His fucking weakness. 

He runs his tongue over her folds one last time before he releases her, getting off the bed to quickly slide out of his pants and underwear. His hard cock springs up against his abdomen as he stands, waiting. 

“Come here. Let daddy fuck that filthy mouth of yours.” 

She gets down on her knees in front of him, spreading her legs apart on the floor. She opens up wide, so fucking eager to receive his big cock. He guides it slowly past her lips and down her mouth until it hits the back of her throat, causing her to gag. He chuckles and he pulls back a bit. “Too big for you, huh? Don’t worry, we’ll practice. You’ll be able to take it without gagging soon enough.” 

Mouth too full of his dick, she just nods obediently as he starts thrusting into her. He has both hands on the sides of her head, gently bobbing it onto his dick. Her hand reaches down between her legs, rubbing her clit as he fucks her. 

“Fuck. You like getting used like this, don’t you?” he spits out.

She responds with another nod as she starts fingering herself again, still taking his cock like a good girl. Eren’s never been so turned on. He can’t think of anything more pornographic than the sight in front of him.

“Daddy’s ready to come,” he says, pulling her off.

Wiping the drool from her chin, she pleads, “Come in my mouth, daddy. Fill me up.” She sticks her tongue out for him, staring up at him with a fucked-out look on her face.

“Fuck,” he moans as he slaps the tip of his cock onto her tongue, a bead of precum sticking to her bottom lip, creating a salacious string between the space. It’s obscene. The way she kneels in front of him, thighs spread wide on the floor as she rubs her clit. Her tongue on full display, ready to receive his load. 

Any efforts to try to forget and move on from her are washed away. He’ll never forget this. He doesn’t want to forget.

His stomach clenches as he comes for her, shooting his seed all over her tongue. He strokes himself until nothing else comes out, knees giving in slightly from his intense orgasm. 

He hears her swallow before she lays back down on the bed, probably just as drained as he is. 

Ignoring the temptation to cuddle up next to her, he puts his pants back on, remembering that his friends are waiting for him downstairs. They’re probably already wondering why he hasn’t come back yet.

She doesn’t say anything as she gets comfortable on the pillows, a blissful smile on her face. Before he makes his exit, he leans in close to her, brushing a few strands of hair away from her forehead. She opens her eyes to look at him.

“Next time we see each other, I’m going to fuck you. Gonna turn my sweet, little virgin into a slut.” He presses his lips against her ear and whispers, “You’ll be the nastiest slut on campus after I’m through with you.”

With a sloppy kiss, Eren gets up and leaves the room with a satisfied smirk on his face.

[airshipvalentine]

I have seen you post about it forever and yet I still haven’t been able to parse what it is or what it’s about. What’s Fremont County?

HAHAHAHA i was wondering how long it would take for someone to ask this!!

fremont county monster hunters is a monster of the week rpg campaign i've been playing sporadically for the past 2.5 years. (and when i say sporadically i mean we've played 4 arcs in about 6 or 7 ~6 hour sessions over the past two and a half years). and because of how long we go without playing (and because we are moderately obsessive people), we get reeealll hiatus-brained in the interim. i am irrevocably obsessed with it.

the premise is that the party is a group of people who can see through the Glare (like the Mist from pjo), who all attend fremont county community college in *mumble mumble* pacific northwest america. i always imagine it as northern california but i honestly don't know if there's a more specific location?

there's a prophecy involving the world ending in fire, and the five people who are there for it. (presumably to stop it, but the prophecy is pretty vague and the only person who has access to it recently lost their clairvoyance) but before that happens, we fight vampires and stuff

that's the short version. i'm gonna talk more about it though bc i can talk about this campaign forever

i play shay song, photo/journalism major first, reluctant Chosen One second. he found a meteorite sword in the woods a few weeks after his dad died under mysterious circumstances, and he's been fighting monsters ever since! he's down to earth and moderately neurotic, and desperately wants to just be normal. (sucks for him though, because that is straight up not going to happen)

also in the party are:

shamsiel, the divine. she's a cherubim sent by The Bureaucracy, a consortium of angels that's essentially a corporate office. she's been tasked with protecting shay and ensuring the prophecy comes to pass. she's a fish out of water who doesn't exactly know how to interact with people, and she's devoted to her cause above all else. i talk about her and shay most on here bc her player is also on tumblr (hiiiii sofie)

levi, the monstrous. a obnoxious rich boy and literal demon. he's sent by his demonic father to do ?????? carry out his demonic bidding? it's unclear. he likes to hang around the party and make passive-aggressive comments and be helpful when it's convenient for him. he's also shay's roommate! they had a homoerotic streak going that was probably a thinly veiled excuse for my partner an i to flirt with each other in the most roundabout way possible before we started dating. he also kidnapped a beloved npc in the most recent session! we're gonna beat him up

anna baker, the spellslinger. absolute sweetheart and heart of the party. she started learning magic and took on a superhero moniker to fight monsters and crime! (<- this doesn't come up nearly as much as it should, btw. i want a tales of ba sing se episode about cold turkey asap) oh yeah, that moniker was "cold turkey". her catchphrase is "you're about to quit crime... Cold Turkey." she's the best.

claire fitz, the mundane. currently in the "denial" stage of realizing she's a lesbian. she's a culinary arts major who carries around a fireaxe. she's kind of weirded out that she's part of this prophecy, but she's very capable and helps about as best she can. she's also lying to all her high school friends! they all think she's going to yale right now! what's that about???

and mila, the seeker! former cheerleader, constant conspiracy theory enthusiast. she's 100% convinced that aliens are real and will do her best to make sure you believe too. psyched beyond belief that she was right and monsters are real. will hold your hands and say "i don't need you to believe. i just need you to trust me and open your mind to the possibilities." kind of miffed that she isn't part of the apocalyptic prophecy, but it's fine.

also, notable npcs!

don powers, shay's former soccer nemesis. business major. kind of a dick, but we're trying to reform him. buried the hatchet with shay recently due to, uh, a common enemy forming. canonically in love with alder as of arc 4.

alder caine, don's roommate. my favorite. got into some shady deals with demons, and now they're hunting her down! levi kidnapped her in the most recent session!

nin, former clairvoyant. elected to give up their powers recently, with aid from the bureaucracy. it was sus as fuck! also dating anna. they're cute

there have been four arcs so far

from rush till prom, the vampire frat arc

the vengeful spirit stick, the cheerleader ghost arc

the switching hour, the doppelganger bottle episode

the deck of many flings, the tarot/love spell episode

ok that's the broad overview. i could talk about this for hours but i will leave it at that :) there's an in-character twitter feed i made though

[adultswim2021]

Aqua Teen Hunger Force #88: "Last Last One Forever and Ever" (aka "Live Action") | May 31, 2009 - 11:45PM | S07E10

This episode starts with the Aqua Teens all bursting into flames after finding out their water has been infected with fire. They try to warn Carl, who is currently farting in his above-ground pool with a stack of dynamite that he moved there so that the ants wouldn’t get to it. Carl ignores his neighbor’s pleas and it ends tragically, with the entire Eastern seaboard exploding. 

Then: DAAAAAANG, we cut to a live-action version of the Aqua Teens’ house! it turns out this (and implicitly, every episode of the show) is a story being written by Don Shake, a man in a white jumpsuit that wears yellow dish-washing gloves. He’s played by H. Jon Benjamin. He’s at odds with his roommate, portrayed by T-Pain who vaguely resembles Frylock. T-Pain Frylock has been letting Don Shake slide on rent while he writes his awful stories, which Don promised Frylock a percentage on. Unfortunately, his stories are all bad, and they make him none money.

Shake confers with Frylock’s brownish exercise ball, who sounds like a little guy we all know and know some more. He tries and fails to give Shake guidance. The presence of a sword is established. Shake goes to his job at a bouncy castle house, run by Dr. Weird, whose voice we hear on the overhead system. We also hear Steve. It’s nice to hear from those guys again, isn’t it? Anyway, Carl tries to interfere in Shake’s creative process as well, urging him to add boobs and lesbos. Meatwad is so displeased that he advises that Shake do something to Frylock with the sword. 

After a sword-related fake-out, we cut back to the cartoon reality, because Don Shake now knows how to end his story properly. The Aqua Teens are moving out of their house, and Carl is seeing them off, mostly to try and get their VCR from them. As they drive away, Carl solemnly says “truly… they were an Aqua Teen Hunger Force.”. Then he yells at them for leaving the emergency brake on in their u-haul as they screechily drive away. End of episode. End of series? 

Live-action Carl was played by David Long Jr., who was selected as part of an open casting-call contest that was sponsored by Burger King. There are a couple of DVD Extras covering this, but I’m not sure if they’re on YouTube. It seems much harder to keep ATHF stuff on YouTube without getting copyright stuck. Try archive.org. I remember him appearing in promos, and I’m guessing the guy made promotional in-person appearances at Adult Swim events. Actually, now that I think of it, I am pretty sure the one promo I'm imagining with him was advertising a college tour that he was bragging about appearing at. Did David Long Jr. come to your college and give you the thrill of your life circa 2009? Please let me know. How did he smell? Better than me? 

The live-action set design is wonderful. Meatwad’s room, which is actually Frylock’s exercise room in the live-action universe (he lets Shake sleep there) looks really great. It's sort-of a treat to see a real pile of sand in that closet. I don’t know why, but it is. I’m glad they didn’t chose to tidy up those elements that would make less sense in the live-action world. I would be more interested in visiting the ATHF house IRL than I would the Simpsons house, even though the Simpsons house has much more to explore. But maybe that’s just me. 

After some light googling, I found out that this episode almost didn’t air on television; Mike Lazzo was so unhappy with it that it was in danger of becoming a DVD extra or a direct-to-YouTube curiosity. I’m not sure I ever knew that, and vaguely suspect that those claims are over-stated. What I did know was that the episode was actually written to be a series finale. I don’t think they were canceled, per se, but Matt and Dave seemed to be under the impression that they weren’t going to get picked up for more seasons.

I also found out that this episode isn’t very well-regarded among fans? This legitimately threw me, because I’ve always liked this one and thought fairly highly of it. I get it, I guess. It’s different, and it’s light on actual jokes. But you know I respect a St.-Elsewhere-style rug pull. It was a little undone by the fact that the show kept going. But what’re you gonna do? Stop watching cartoons?

MAIL BAG:

which of the original adult swim shows would you show to a date, if you were the dating type

Of course that depends on the date. I have an aversion to the act of sitting a potential partner down to make them watch something to make sure they also like it. BUT: I am also shallow enough to not want to be with somebody if they didn't like certain things. I guess I'd show her Minoriteam so I could find out how racist I'm allowed to be around her.

i dont get the teen vogue joke in your last article, but you seem pretty proud about it so I wonder what's the deal

It feels so long ago, so it's possible I might've even fucked up the reference-to-the-reference. But for a while there Teen Vogue got all popular for being leftist online, I think? I sorta forget exactly the nature of it, but there were lots of tweets like "TEEN VOGUE IS GOOD, ACTUALLY". But then I think they were anti-union or something and it all came crashing down.

Hello, im writing you an ASK ME ANYTHING message to let you know not to upload anything on Tuesday, for it is Tasty Tuesday and you should respect that. Happy February!

You will be pleased to see I heeded your words. Happy Februany.

If you're going to have nothing but Squidbillies for a while, does that mean you might update the 2022 blog in between to dull the monotony?

An interesting proposition but I simply do not know.

I’m enjoying your reviews of aqua teen. I don’t know when YouTube transitioned into a formula of “talk about x thing you like in depth for 7 hours” but your posts scratch that same itch I have. I like the show, dammit! I want to read some guy’s opinions of it, over and over again!

Hey! Thank you. That's nice! I am glad a handful of people read this blog and sorta like it! Plus: I love to speak my mind!!!!!

[not-alien-girl-v]

can i request a break up make up imagine with kyle🥹❤️

warning: weird shit

note: alternate ending of this fic right here. basically if kyle never stopped y/n when she walked away. you don't have to read that one first, but i would recommend it. also i love inserting myself into these fics as a supporting character. you cannot stop me from doing this ever. leave a like please gang!!

now even more enraged than the moment she exited the car, y/n stomps after him.

when he sees her standing before him outside, she notices the gentle smile playing on his bruised face and she almost feels guilty for being about to yell at him, but soon remembers what he did.

"what the fuck is your problem?" she yells.

"you're my problem," he grumbles, picking himself off the ground an dusting off his jeans with the palms of his sweaty hands.

she ignores his almost cute quip. "you think you can just act like you fucking own me? like i'm your property? because i'm not, i shouldn't have to tell you how fucked that is, kyle!"

"so do you do this a lot? you flirt with random guys at parties. parties that i'm at? do you tell them you have a boyfriend before you blow them or what?"

"i'm not a slut, if that's what your implying. i've never done what you accused me of, not even tonight. we were having an innocent conversation when you came in like my fucking owner. but if that's what you think i do all the time, if you genuinely believe that, then maybe we shouldn't be doing this."

each footstep pounds on the pavement like a giant retreating into the clouds, but it's really y/n marching home. home to her house, where she wouldn't be treated in such poor conditions. somewhere where she'd finally get a little respect, something kyle was deficient in tonight, for some god forsaken reason.

kyle should have stopped her. he should have said something, grabbed her wrist, got on his knees, groveled, begged, pleaded. he would like to say the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream was the main suspect for this felony, but who was he kidding? it was all him, him and his stupid, stupid brain.

the next few days felt like a punishment from god himself, and kyle genuinely began to wonder if he displeased some higher power who has now showered him in eternal darkness.

sure, it was just that his girlfriend broke up with him and wouldn't return his - what was it, like 50? - calls to her cellphone, her home phone, her roommate's phone, even her mom wouldn't answer the line.

when one main source of happiness is briskly removed from one's life, one begins to realize how shitty said life is without it. his classes dragged along like a snail on a mattress left out to dry in the sun, with the lack of promise that one day he'll get his degree and a high paying engineering job that will support him and his (hopefully) future wife. now it was just a 2 hour class.

and what was he supposed to do out of class? the routine of texting his girlfriend first thing class ended was interrupted. who was he supposed to text now? his mom? not gonna happen. his frat brothers? unlikely.

not only was y/n his girlfriend but she was also his best friend, and he couldn't imagine a current life or any future possibility of a life if she wasn't by his side.

he was so screwed.

so, like any smart grown adult would, he went on wikihow. his fingers press into the black laptop keyboard, 'how to get my girlfriend to take me back.'

leave her alone

done, kyle hadn't spoken to her in days now.

2. start talking to another girl

not sure how that could possibly help his case, but he was open to it if that's what he needed to do.

3. tap your inner alpha male

kyle wasn't too sure he had one of those. if he had to guess, his spirit animal would probably be a hamster or perhaps a well-tempered gerbil.

as the article read, 'most girls are attracted to the alpha male for deep biological reasons: they believe he can provide for them better, protect them better, and give her biologically fit children. even if you don't think that alpha males are your ex's type, subtle changes might work on her: pump out your chest a bit, make an effort to work out your arms and thighs, and project strength.'

he would endure anything for her. and wikihow was never wrong, so this technique was a sure thing.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

the plan started with hitting the gym 3 times before making his move. once that same day he read the article, once the next day, and with one day of rest, he went back on saturday, the day he aimed to get her back.

in fact, he was fresh out of the gym, sweat still being the substance slightly gluing his clothes to his body, when he arrived at her house. he made the wise decision to skip step two, as he didn't want her to think he was moving on to other girls, which it would pretty much guarantee.

instead of ringing the doorbell, he pounds the door, hard, adrenaline moving through him, looking like a cracked up mad man. he knocks three times (three is his lucky number).

unfortunately, her roommate, violet, answers instead of y/n.

"oh. what are you doing here? and why do you look... like that?" she doesn't invite him in, in fact, she stands her ground center in the doorway, as if informing him that he was not welcome past the threshold like a vampire.

"i've got something to say to her, is she here?" kyle demands, perhaps a little too loudly, and violet gives him a look, but slowly nods her head.

"yeah she's here."

"well, can i speak to her?"

"i'll ask. but if she says no, you're out of here, got it?" with a solemn nod of his sweaty head, she closes the door, not locking it, but walking further into the apartment.

to his glee, y/n is the next face he sees when the door opens for the second time, and he can't help but notice violet carefully watching from behind a corner, lurking like a ghost, but ultimately judging his every move.

"kyle? are you okay? you look a little... frazzled." she speaks delicately to him. why do people keep saying that to him? he ignores the lack of anger in her voice, the fact that she's not slapping his stupid face right now like she probably should be. no, he's got something fresh on his mind.

his chest is puffed out, his voice firm and again, a little on the louder side, all details adding to y/n's concern, she worries he's contracted rabies or something horrible explaining why he's so sweaty and icky looking at her doorstep.

"i'm fine-"

"hey, come inside, let me take your temperature, you look like you have a fever," she doesn't let him finish as she yanks him in by the wrist, cringing at the dampness of it, but nevertheless, pushes him down onto her couch.

"you're really gonna let him get his funk all over my nice couch?" he hears violet whisper to y/n, something he assumes he's not supposed to hear.

"it's our nice couch, and look at him, he clearly needs medical attention right now."

"he needs your attention right now, go talk with him." violet ushers y/n over to him and he looks ready to present a long speech.

once y/n takes a tentative seat a comfortable distance from kyle on the couch, he starts. "look, I'm sorry-"

"i forgive you."

"what?" his shoulders slump a little bit but in a good way, like he's actually relaxed now.

"i forgive you. i can't stay mad at you forever. i was just too proud to say i was sorry for walking out, so i guess i was just waiting for you to say something first."

"then why didn't you answer my calls?"

"don't get me wrong, i was angry, i was really angry for the first few days, and i had every right to be, but i don't think i should have walked away from you like that. i felt like it showed i didn't value our relationship, and i do. i know you only ever do what you do because you love me. it's just hard to remember that sometimes."

"sweetie, i had a whole speech ready to win you over with. i read a wikihow tutorial, i went to the gym 3 times this week! stop making this so easy!"

"is that why you're so sweaty?"

he gives a playful glare.

"sorry, do you want me to be angry again so you can give your little presentation?"

"just come here," he opens his arms and begins to pull her in when he feels her tense and move away.

"how about a shower first?"

"really?"

"dead serious, baby. i love you, but you smell like shit. take a shower and maybe i'll let you make it up to me." a playful wink is all kyle needs to spring back to life, into the bathroom in less than a moment.

[boytumms]

Hi! I wrote the story about the magical stomach/intestine filling contents! The one with the competitive eater from about two months ago

So, a story about magical stuffing

Two guys sat in their college dorms, bored out of their minds. One, Adam, was training to become a mage, the other, Mason, training to be an alchemist on top of already being a mage. Both were in their second semester of schooling, being fairly new to their trades.

“Dude, I’m so bored,” Mason said, sighing as he looked at the mage. “Do you have any ideas for what we could do to pass the time? Neither of us have classes for the rest of the day either,” Mason said, looking at his watch for a moment.

Adam shrugged, looking at his pile of text books for a moment. “I have a test in one of my classes tomorrow if you’d like to help me study?” Adam asked, picking up one of his books as he spoke.

“Sure. You’re grades suck anyway,” Mason teased, laughing as Adam punched his arm. “Alright, I’ll help you. What’s this test on anyway?” Mason asked, sitting up a little as he spoke.

“It’s on portals. My teacher is going to ask me to open two portals to transport small objects from one side to the other. I just have trouble with accuracy placing the portals, that’s all,” Adam said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“That’s easy. Just focus super hard on where you want the two portals to show up, even if it’s simply in this room,” Mason said, pointing to the space around them. Adam seemed to think for a moment before he nodded, looking in his textbook for a moment.

Mason watched as Adam casted the spell, smiling when he saw that a small portal had appeared in front of Adam. “That’s great! Now you need to make the second portal appear,” Mason said, cheering his friend on.

Adam seemed confused though, checking his book and mumbling words. “Both are supposed to show up at the same time. It’s gotta be close by, let’s look,” Adam said, standing and beginning to search the room.

The two guys looked for nearly half an hour, but couldn’t find it anywhere. Adam and Mason sat back on the couch, thinking for a moment on how to find this mysterious portal.

“Well, what if we put something into the portal? Something safe in case it’s somewhere nearby or by someone? I’ll go get the cookies I made earlier. Those shouldn’t harm anybody,” Mason said, standing to grab the food from the kitchen.

Adam stared at the small portal, wondering if he should close this set of portals and open a new set. The problem was, he hadn’t learnt that spell yet. But he could probably find it somewhere in his text books.

Mason came back in, interrupting his thinking as he held a plate of cookies. “Let’s see if we can find the portal,” Adam said, picking up a cookie and holding it over the portal.

Adam dropped it, waiting a moment to see if anything happened. Both the guys looked around for a mysterious cookie, listening for the cookie dropping in case it was somewhere else. Adam grabbed two more and dropped them into the portal, again looking around.

Adam paused for a moment, looking at his stomach as he felt a little bit of food settle. Could the portal have placed itself inside of his stomach? Adam dropped several more cookies in the portal, his suspicions being confirmed as he felt the cookies settle in his stomach.

“The portal is inside me! I felt the cookies go into my stomach! Mason, I don’t know how to reverse this spell yet! What do I do?” Adam asked, looking at his roommate as he began to panic. Mason set the cookies on the table, grabbing his friend’s shoulders with the most excited look on his face.

“Sorry, but I’ve snuck through your journal a few times. You like stuffing yourself, right? Let me do it for you,” Mason said, dropping some more cookies into the portal. Adam paused at the words as he felt the cookies settle inside, the idea actually sounding rather pleasant since it had been awhile since Adam had had time to himself.

“Only if you stop when I say so. I know my limits and I really don’t want to die today,” Adam said, his cheeks turning pink as he spoke. Mason picked up the cookies and dumped the rest of the plate in the portal, making Adam groan slightly at the feeling.

“Alright. Why don’t you sit on the couch while I get more food? I’ll be doing the work today,” Mason said, smiling as he took the plate back to the kitchen. Adam would’ve been lying if he didn’t say he was nervous, wondering if it was going to be ok to let someone else do it.

After thirty minutes, the front door was knocked on. Mason answered and payed for the fast food he ordered, turning around with a beaming smile after closing the door. “Here’s the food! I got a lot so we can stuff you nice and round,” Mason said with a smile, picking up a cheeseburger out of one of the bags.

Mason placed the whole cheeseburger in the portal before Adam could say anything, the mage huffing a little at the sudden weight of the burger. Adam watched as his stomach seemed to press out slightly, rubbing his stomach a little as he felt comfortable full. Mason repeated this process with four more hamburgers, Adam rubbing his stomach as it bloated little by little.

Adam was now uncomfortably full, rubbing his small bump of a belly for a moment. He looked up when he heard the pop of a soda being opened, his eyes widening as Mason began pouring a two liter Sprite in the portal. Adam felt the carbonation in his stomach, watching as his poor stomach doubled in size. He immediately began burping, the carbonation slowly inflating his already full stomach.

Mason didn’t waste any time before he picked up another bag, opening it and pulling out some French fries. He dumped in container after container, not leaving room for Adam to say anything as he felt the food mash into his stomach with the soda and burgers. The mage was still a burping mess, sighing as he felt the carbonation finally go away.

Adam gingerly pressed against his stomach, sighing as he saw the small food baby that rested in his stomach. “Alright, I think I’m done. That was a lot of food,” Adam said, rubbing his stomach as he spoke. His shirt definitely fit more snuggly now, but it wasn’t tight. Mason didn’t like that.

He picked up another burger, looking at if for a moment before he put it in the portal. “I was gonna have a few, but you seem to need them more,” Mason said, watching as Adam stared in horror. Mason added five more cheeseburgers after that, watching as Adam became a moaning mess. Ten cheeseburgers definitely wasn’t a light meal.

Adam’s stomach was now gently tugging at his shirt, the male panting slightly at the pressure in his stomach. Even his sweat pants were beginning to slide under the curved dome of his stomach. But that didn’t stop Mason, he seemed to be enjoying it too much. He opened another two liter of sprite, watching as Adam shook his head no.

Mason poured the Sprite anyway, watching Adam hold his distended abdomen as his stomach gurgled and bloated more. Adam’s shirt slowly slid up as his stomach expanded, burping soon emerging from Adam’s mouth.

“This is how it’s done, but you’re not even close to what I have for you,” Mason said, grabbing some more food as he spoke. This process went on for another hour, Adam complaining as he was force fed more food. Mason gave him the last of the food, sitting on the couch next to Adam.

“There, all done. Now look at you, you’re so helpless,” Mason said, chuckling as he placed his hand on Adam’s large stomach. He had placed so much solid food, that his stomach was going to take awhile to break down the burgers he had fed him whole.

Mason sat next to Adam and immediately began to massage at the tender abdomen of his friend, watching as Adam visibly relaxed. “That feels so freaking good…” Adam said, slowly falling asleep as Mason continued to help the food work through his system.

“Let’s do this again another time. Just let me digest this first,” Adam said drowsily, eventually falling asleep as Mason continued to massage his swollen abdomen. Mason could only chuckle, knowing that this would’ve happened anyway, even if Adam didn’t want it too.

AKNDJABDNABS HELLO AGAIN!!! Thank you for sending in another story, I do love me some magic stuffing :)))

[night-raven-miscellany]

alr here we go >:3

🐾🫂🌹📽️🛏️

If any of them have already been asked that’s fine! Ty bestie :3 /lh

-mod!yuu, @nrcsfavoriteshrimps

(✨dw! you were the first ask in the inbox so im gonna try answering things in order :33)

"Greetings, my most illustrious servant! It is truly a pleasure to be interviewed on this day indeed. It is not often I get the chance to talk about myself for long periods of time without others feeling perturbed."

"Hi everyone! Yuna here. Time for me to do my. Actual Yearbook/Newspaper Club duties and do some birthday interviews."

🐾

"Alright, let's start with an easy one. Casimir, If you could be any animal, what kind of animal would you be?"

"Well, of course I would want to be the magnificent hellhound (black lab) itself! They are powerful, loyal, intelligent- all excellent qualities of an evil overlord, you know! I do believe such a beast would be the perfect representative of my status and strength."

🫂

"Ooh, fascinating! Let's see here... the next question we have for you: If you could choose any one student to be your sibling, which student would you pick?"

"What a peculiar question... there's no shortage of fascinating figures attending this academy, and yet I am confined to only choosing one? Hm... Well... I suppose if I could choose anyone, I admire the demon overlord of Pomefiore! I have not communicated with him before aside from simple club disputes between the drama club and the film appreciation club, but he radiates a rather powerful aura. He also radiates the grace and dignity that an ideal evil overlord should have! I wonder if perchance he should be willing to take on a disciple..."

🌹

"Vil-senpai, huh? That's a good pick. A bit surprising, though. Honestly, I was thinking you would pick someone from your own do-"

"And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing! Just thought it was interesting. Think nothing of it, hehe. Anyways, the next question: What's your favorite kind of flower? Is there any significant reasoning behind that choice?'

"Hm... Well... I must say I've always been fond of flowers in general, though I do think that certainly conflicts with my imposing image... Specifically, though, I've always adored roses, specifically white ones. They've always been my mother's favorite flower for as long as I can recall, and I suppose she just instilled that love of them into me. You see, she always had a rose bush of white roses specifically that she would tend to. Once I was old enough, she also taught me how to care for them, and I suppose I grew attached.

My mother told me that they are a symbol of innocence. She claims that that is a description that 'fits me to a tee', but I must disagree with her there. I am certainly far from innocent, as evil is. Well. The complete opposite of that!"

📽️

"I see. Y'know, I think I can kinda see where your mom was coming from, Pipsqueak. But I don't wanna start a debate here over your 'evil nature', so instead, I'm just gonna move on. The next question I have for you is pretty simple: What is your favorite movie?"

"Oh? That is indeed a simple question... What was that musical you showed me that took place in 'France' and was quite tragic?"

"Cas, that doesn't narrow it down any. Are you talking about Les Mis? Or Phantom of the Opera?"

"The second one- is that the one where the male lead lives beneath the performance hall and dons the mask?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Ah, then yes, it is that one! The other one was quite excellent as well, though. A tragic tale of revolution, justice, and overcoming! It is most beautiful as well, but that 'Phantom of the Opera' has stuck with me ever since you introduced it to me! I hope that that is sufficient enough of an answer?"

🛏️

"Yeah, that works! Oh! And it looks like that this inquiring viewer has one more question for you, but there will definitely be more later. What is your room like? How is it decorated?"

"Oh! I would indeed love to answer such a question! My roommates do deem my lair's decor to be... 'quite childish', BUT I must disagree! It is decor perfectly befitting an evil overlord! My quadrant of the lair is... a bit chaotic, but still organized. The decor itself is delightfully evil, with false cobwebs in the corner, and some lovely bats, although they are false. One of my roommates once said, and I quote 'It's like walking into one of those temporary Halloween stores'. I don't know if they are insulting me or complimenting me by saying such a thing, but I suppose they aren't entirely wrong either way?"

"Oh yeah, it definitely does give off those vibes, doesn't it? Not that that's a bad thing, though. I think it's pretty fitting."

"It is, is it not? I enjoy the villainous atmosphere it creates, kyehehe!"

"I wouldn't call it villainous, per say... (maybe a bit cheesy?) but it's still totally you, Casimir.

Anyways, it looks like that's all from this curious reader. We'll take a quick break between these interviews today, but for now, Happy Birthday, Casimir!"

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 17

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Slice of Life, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Synopsis:  Though it hadn't come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Something was off.

Which was strange because by all accounts everything had returned to normal.

It had been a few weeks since the chase and things were a little too average considering. On your new sliding Donatello scale, you had lake day Donnie at one far end and emotional shut down Don at the other. While your typical Donatello interaction could bob anywhere in-between, prior to that night he’d been trending towards a calm waters. However, now it felt like he had found your spirit level and had purposefully set the thing so the bubble was exactly in the center of the guide lines.

This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing as far as blatantly burying your problems went. That night he’d cuddled you right up until he thought you’d fallen asleep. You pretty much had, but him leaving you, no matter how gently he’d done so, had triggered a latent fear response. It meant you got to watch as he retreated to his side of the bed and stared at the ceiling for too long. Whatever conversation he had had with himself was decided by the next morning. It was something you were slowly picking up on now. Part of you wished you’d noticed sooner, but you had your own matter’s at hand.

They were at least clear; you had two new fears, dark and metal. The latter had been easier to deal with because, oddly enough, it was less tangible. You had never seen the strange objects that had coiled around you, but their sound and texture were unforgettable. In the immediate days following, it had been a struggle to hold a utensil for too long because its cold steely nature sent warning prickles through your fingertips. You had ended up devising a strategy that had you stroking steel sinks and rubbing chrome-laden appliances while sipping your favorite beverages as a means to create a positive reinforcement. You rarely flinched now though you were curious what would happen if you somehow ended up at a herbatarium.

The dark, on the other hand, was unavoidable and you had been utterly immersed in it. You’d impulse purchased night lights in bulk and your roommate had given you quite the side eye when you’d plugged them into every free outlet. For once, she had heeded your pleading gaze and, while that should have felt like a win, you wondered how pitiful you must have looked for her to drop something that should have otherwise been prime teasing material. Aside from that, you now rarely went out after the sun went down if you could help it. Donnie adjusted his schedule to accommodate, but it meant you no longer saw him on weeknights. That paired with his new metric meant he hadn’t offset the loss so you’d only seen him about four times since that fateful night.

It was another reason why his shift had flown under your radar. In the times you had met with him, it felt more like playing out re-runs of prior dates. He was his usual attentive and cynical self, but there was a certain lack of intimacy. The small affections had dried up and spending the night was out of the question. It hadn’t been an immediate red flag; your own sex drive had taken a minor detour, but it was worrisome. You had a feeling he was afraid to touch you so you decided to push a yet unused medium: text.  

It had started just before the last time you had seen him. The digital barrier created what you assumed would be a nice buffer for both of you. You waded into the unventured territory small by sending small affections. They were the sort you usually blurted out to catch him off guard. Watching his response bubble boil up and pop repeatedly sent you back to the early days of messaging him. You felt shreds of his usual self as he gave his usual off-kilter commentary on how brash you were. Balancing the scales, you had then peppered in more average texts as to not overwhelm him. His reactions seemed positive and you had a sense he was equally in on what you were up to. That was, at least, until you had had a particularly good day and went to spread the love as you were laying in bed at the end of it. You sent off a provocative selfie and tried to imagine how adept Donnie would be at sexting. It felt like just the thing to get both of you on track until you gaped at his response which regarded only the bed and wishing you a good night.

It had been annoying enough that you left yourself unattended to and followed his instruction with an angry bundling. Cooled by a night’s sleep, you had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and try again with a snapshot of overt nudity from the shower. He hadn’t ignored it that time, but instead advised you that warning was necessary for those kind of images less he open them in public. You’d taken it in stride and followed it up with sultry text which he quickly changed the subject on. It had taken a lot of will power to not throw. You knew for a fact he wasn’t that obtuse and when you’d met him that last time, you’d come on relatively strong as a test. He had allowed it, but that had also been when you fully clocked how metered he was being. He took your advances in stride and with little reciprocation, as if keeping you a mental arm’s length.

It was what brought you to this moment.

You had tried being nice.

Now you were going to piss him off.

You hadn’t decided if that was an overreaction or not.

Your chill friend Kaleb approached with a buddy of his in tow. “Look who I found!”

“He literally knocked.” Beside you on a worn couch, your mutual friend didn’t look up from their phone.

“A figure of speech!” Kaleb waved off the comment and paused to take Donnie in from where he was standing behind you. “What a sight!”

“Woah…” The new friend adjusted the straps on his oversized backpack.

“Not like that.” Kaleb elbowed the friend in scolding jest. “It’s just every time I see this guy he lights up the room.”

“Y/N, you need to watch out. Kaleb is trying to poach your man.” Your phone friend continued to scroll.

“No, no.” Kaleb mused as he wound over to Donnie and gave you a gentle tap on the arm in passing. “He’s got this vibe to him. We’re simpatico. Right, bud?” He held out a hand.

Donnie, who you could tell was on edge being in the new environment, eventually took the extension and was jolted as Kaleb turned it into a chest bump.

“So…” Kaleb’s friend rolled on the balls of his feet. “I brought so many games.”

“Is this everybody?” Your phone friend lowered their device.

“Yep! We aren’t trying to go overboard.” Kaleb gave Donnie a knowing look before releasing him. “Rehash to start us off: welcome to mi casa! The drinks are always cold, the energy is always amber, and if you need anything, you just have to call me captain.” He then winked in a turn so every person could see it before plopping down in a recliner.

“And the games…?” Kaleb’s friend put his weight onto one foot to lean to the side.

“Introductions first, my man!” Kaleb laughed. “Our one-track mind fella right here is D’Kline-”

The man in question opened his mouth and drew out an annoyed vowel.

“Dean Kline.” Kaleb nodded wisely. “Then Colonel Dee, Donatello, Y/N, who I am sorely lacking nicknames for, and, the phone obsessed non-conformist themselves, Eugene.”

“Go ahead and start getting your games out.” Eugene noted, already back on his device.

“I think I’ll just go with your real names for now…” Dean hummed.

“Nice to meet you.” You bobbed your head as you stood. “Drink?”

“Waa-water, yeah!” Dean knealt down at the coffee table, unzipped his bag, and began to stack his game boxes.

Donnie moved only when you entered the kitchen to observe the growing tower.

“You and Kaleb went to high school together, right D’Kline?” You mused, getting three glasses.

“Middle!” Kaleb corrected, kicking his feet up.

“Our parents were already friends before that…” Dean had a scolded edge to his voice.

“Oop, I meant childhood!” Kaleb laughed heartily.

You heard the conversation continue as you filled up the glasses in a specific order. You then capped off one with a straw and grasped the three together to bring them over to the table. “As requested.” You set down an open glass and pushed it towards Dean who took it immediately.

“Thanks!”

You then flopped back into your spot on the couch and held out the lidded cup to Donnie who took it with increasingly narrowed eyes.

Kaleb burst out laughing. “I got that at Margaretville!”

“Water.” You noted, doing little to hide your smile.

Donnie turned the audaciously island themed cup from side to side to read the logo before bringing his lips to the straw. He sipped before reeling away from it with a grimace.

“Mineral water.” You corrected, sipping from your glass daintily before setting it aside.

You could feel Kaleb’s curiosity wafting off of him.

Cutting off the chance at a comment, you leaned forward towards the coffee table. “Let’s start with Uno.”

Kaleb’s recliner creaked as he shot to attention.

Eugene lowered their phone and you could feel them boring their gaze into the side of your head.

“Oh…” Dean started sadly. “I was kinda hoping we could try So Clover! It’s really fun, you-”

“It’s gonna be that kinda game night, huh!?” Kaleb cut him off. “Let me get it!” His recliner squeaked as it rocked with the disappearance of its occupant.

“But…?” Dean looked around helplessly.

“And here I thought we were gonna play dumb word games.” Eugene chided.

“They’re not dumb!” Dean looked offended.

Donnie set his cup down right in front of you and entered your space to glare you down.

“Have you played before?” You blinked up at him, nonplussed.

“No.” You could feel the sharp daggered edges of a second question there but the new environment kept him from asking.

“It’s fun.” You smiled and turned as Kaleb shuffled back in holding the small package with both hands.

“Here we go. D’Kline you deal!” Kaleb passed off the precious object.

“Alright.” Dean took the cards and opened them up while already explaining the rules with the usual house additions.

You stood and motioned for Donnie to take your seat.

Trying not to split his attention, but clearly wary, he did so.

Everyone else squished around the coffee table as Dean dealt the cards and you sat down on the floor beside the dealer.

A game started up and, quick as usual, Donnie picked up how to play immediately. The round got into full swing and Kaleb was regaling the group with a story from his little league days. You played quietly, dropping colored cards and drawing when necessary. Eugene played the first reverse earning a comical holler from Kaleb who played it off as he had the cards necessary. On your next turn you ended up having to draw four, but you were biding your time. Across from you, Donnie’s hand was rapidly depleting. 

Smiling to yourself, the game continued on with Kaleb and Eugene gunning for one another. Dean had amassed a huge amount of cards during a swap and was muttering to himself gravely about playing another game. Ignoring him in favor of watching Donnie, you saw the shift in his hand. You played green in his favor and with Dean able to continue that, Donnie placed his penultimate card.

“Uno.”

“Uno-“ Donnie snapped his gaze up to you.

“Ooooh!!” Kaleb whooped.

“Draw two.” Eugene grinned at Donnie.

“Good job.” Dean side eyed you and nearly dropped his hand.

“Just paying attention.” You hummed and pretended all your focus was in your deck.

Donnie drew two cards and the game continued on.

It took two more passes until you had what you were looking for. With Dean in between you and Donnie, he would be collateral damage. You imagined he didn’t mind much as he hadn’t wanted to play in the first place. You played a skip card on him and the man indeed seemed relieved that he had more time to organize what was essentially a deck. It also caught Donnie off guard who had clearly been waiting for Dean to play something specific, but had to shift his timeline.

You chose only violence after that. Completely abandoning winning for only tearing Donnie down. Between skips, color changes, and reverses, you watched as Donnie’s hand tightened around his growing fist of cards. You ended up swapping hands with Eugene who commented on how you could have won if you had done something different in your last round. You feigned innocence and could feel Donnie staring at you.

You ignored him and he reached across the table to take your water. You pretended not to watch as he chugged the entire glass in one go and slammed it down as if he were in a bar.

“I’m about ready to bow out.” Kaleb joked to Eugene with wagging eyebrows.

Eugene kicked the recliner. “Maybe while they tear each other apart we can sneak a win.”

“Huh?” Dean looked up curiously.

Your turn came and you reversed the flow away from Donnie yet again.

Dean huffed and Kaleb drew with a chuckle. Donnie selected a card and held it up. Eugene eyed it before placing their card down. Donnie then immediately played his selection and went back to watching his hand.

“Uh…” Dean eyed Donnie before looking helplessly at you. “Did he…?”

“It’s your turn.” You nodded, refusing to look at Donnie.

Dean played and Donnie held up his next card. The others exchanged looks and continued on. Donnie placed his card while only looking at you. Resisting his call, you only checked the pile to see that he had played accurately. It was strange, but you kept course and changed the color much to Kaleb’s complaint. Pre-selecting his card for a third time, Donnie had accurately guessed that Eugene would change it yet again before his turn.

You soured. “I didn’t think it needed to be said, but cheating is against the rules.”

“That was implied.” Donnie responded coolly as Dean played.

“Checking other’s hands is considered cheating.” You clarified and slammed down a card of the same color.

“Kaleb, I think your guest is accusing you of being unsportsmanlike.” Donnie glanced over at said man.

Kaleb’s eyes were the size of dinner plates. “The rule of the house is good vibes only.”

“Oh man, Cor’s going to be so mad she missed this.” Eugene eyed their phone.

“She’s kinda…” Dean grimaced.

Donnie played another pre-selected card.

You finally shot a glare in his direction.

This time he was the one to pointedly avoid it.

“You’ve met her?” Eugene rose a brow.

“One time we went out for drinks…” Dean tilted his head to gesture at Kaleb.

You drew a card.

Donnie held one at the ready even though his turn was still two away.

“That girl’s wild!” Kaleb laughed.

Eugene played a reverse. “What happened?”

“We’re talking about this!” Donnie waved his selection and you played your card while glowering at him.

“Only she lost, but somehow I feel like we all did…” Dean hummed and placed his card carefully while adjusting the stack.

Donnie slapped his selection down and it again was a perfect play.

You put your hand face down and stared at him. The other voices fell away as they continued the story and you watched Donnie lean back into the couch in wait. It was like he wanted you to pick up on something, but you weren’t sure what. You had been succeeding in your night’s mission, but he’d turned the tables. The game was almost entirely based on luck. If he really wasn’t checking hands, then what outlandish method had he come up with to ensure he knew exactly what everyone had?

You paled.

“You’re counting cards.” You mumbled horrified.

“Say what?” Kaleb’s head snapped to you.

Donnie only rose one brow the barest amount.

It was a confirmation for you alone.

“This isn’t poker.” Eugene rolled his eyes.

Dean brought his hand up and looked over it as if it offered him protection.

“No shit?” Kaleb spun the other way to look at Donnie.

“That’s not possible.” Eugene turned as well.

“How could it be?” Donnie wondered, still staring at you.

“Kaleb.” You broke eye contact to look at your hand.

“Yeah?” The man hummed, still studying Donnie.

“How about we let D’Kline here win?” You gave a lopsided smile.

“Me? Huh?” Dean perked up.

Kaleb turned with growing glee. “Hell yeah.”

“It’s like you don’t even think I have a chance.” Eugene bemoaned with a totally flat voice.

The game shifted again. It took a few more rounds until Eugene relented to join the cause. It meant the full force of the table banded together to defeat Don by leading the game in Dean’s favor. It came down to a narrow margin, but Donnie’s intellect won out. It concluded the comically long game of Uno with him as the winner. The others split off for a break from the intensity while you had a silent conversation with Don.

The man raised his brow and you could hear his voice ask what you were doing.

You shrugged back from where you were collecting cards as if to say you were just playing.

He leaned forward and gripped his hands loosely from where his elbows tented them across his knees in a way that questioned your validity.

You tapped the deck once to straighten it before shooting him a sharp glance that asked the same of him.

Donnie looked away as Kaleb returned to his recliner.

“What’s next?” Kaleb looked pointedly at you.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Dean perk up. It almost made you feel bad when you said, “Monopoly.”

Dean visibly collapsed.

In the back of your mind you made a mental note to make it up to the guy for your very poor first showing.

“We are playing for blood tonight!” Eugene rose their voice uncharacteristically.

“D’Kline, can you get it?” Kaleb didn’t even look back.

Dean grumbled and disappeared into an attached bedroom.

“After this has got to be Mario Kart, right?” Eugene was nearly vibrating.

“I don’t have enough spare controllers.” Kaleb sighed.

“I can run home.” Eugene seemed desperate.

“Know how to play this one?” You looked to Donnie with a veiled expression.

“I know enough.” Donnie stood, commandeering your glass to get more water.

Against the loud protest of his rocker, Kaleb leaned down toward you. “Who’s side should I be on? Me and you got time, but your boy’s got heart.”

You knew for a fact that no matter how quietly Kaleb whispered, Donnie could still hear him. Regardless, you softened at Kaleb’s care. “No sides. It’s up to you.”

“Bet.” Kaleb leaned back and let the recliner rock him into position.

Dean returned and got to work laying out the board. Donnie took the top hat, Dean got the shoe, Eugene picked the iron, Kaleb called the car, and you chose the little dog.

“House rule: free parking lot?” You asked though you already knew the answer.

“Yup.” Eugene mumbled, eyeing their phone.

Kaleb nodded as he sipped the straw on a drink he’d prepared.

“Shouldn’t we…?” Dean looked at Donnie.

“Explain it.” Donnie chuffed and waited for Dean.

“We set aside money that goes to whoever lands on Free Parking.”

“All money paid into the pool, actually.” You corrected.

Dean’s lips moved like a fish without water.

“Vicious.” Eugene grinned manically.

Donnie’s snout crinkled the littlest bit. “Fine.”

“Let’s play.” You rolled the dice first and Kaleb ended up winning the roll.

A slower game to get into the grove of, easy conversation was shared about work. Only half paying attention, you could tell Donnie’s gears were turning. This was a game designed for someone like him. You assumed he already had a 50 year plan for some capitalistic take over as his play style was already tending toward ruthless. You imagined him down the line, brokering for properties with Dean who’s very life was on the line if he didn’t agree. You on the other hand, were playing on full impulsivity. You weren’t exactly sure why, but you had this feeling. You bought every property you landed on to the point where Eugene, who was acting as banker, actually urged you not to as it would leave you with only one five bill. You ignored him and purchased the property while Kaleb let out a low whistle.

The game went around and it was obvious that Donnie saw the whole board as one to be manipulated. He’d already bought Kaleb out of one property and was one card away from at least three color sets. The others sat back to the game’s long duration and seemed unaware of the wolf among them. You earned back some money by the cards benevolent graces and Donnie caught his first set. He immediately started to adding houses and that’s about when the others realized the dire straits they would soon be in. You rounded the board safely without paying too high a penalty just before Donnie acquired all the yellow properties.

Eugene groaned loudly as Donnie immediately started building up that territory. The game went around again and the change was palpable. The idle chatter had fallen off as the players now were desperately doing the mental math of which dice rolls were taboo. You landed on one of Donnie’s properties and pretended not to sweat as you paid nearly all you had saved back up. Eugene fretted for you as Dean took his turn. In two more rounds, Donnie had a veritable fortress on half the board and everyone was on desperate edge. You hit Connecticut and paid a pitiful amount to Dean. Donnie went and was up to hotels and, on Eugene’s turn, they landed right on that newly furnished property. Eugene barely clung to life as Kaleb collected $200 for passing Go. It was back to you and, as you picked up the dice, you could feel it.

Looking across the board, Donatello smirked as there was a very real chance you’d be out the game if you rolled high enough. You smirked right back as you dropped the dice. It wasn’t something you could fix and it just felt like the planets aligned as the pair rolled to their final positions. You scarcely had to look down to count it up, already knowing where’d you landed. Kaleb specifically was still doing the math and you skipped your little Scottie dog along. Eugene let out a single dry chuckle and you dropped the pup right on free parking.

In a flash, everyone’s eyes hit the enormous pot collected on the board. It was not only the culmination of play, but Donatello’s own demise as it was everything he had done to fortify his holdings. The corners of his mouth drooped as you reached over to collect the cash. It took two trips and a ton of organizing. Banker Eugene was preening his mental uniform when you looked up. You beamed them a bright smile before going so far as to crack your knuckles.

“Alright.” In a flash, you had your own double color holding and had stacked the properties high in a single turn. The others sweated bullets as more than half the board was now a landmine. Double checking to make sure you were satisfied, you blinked cutely over to Donnie. “I think I’m all done.”

He was crouched forward with a rage-filled fire burning in his pupils.

“I’m not gonna make it.” Dean wheezed and rolled. He ended up in jail and thanked whatever god he acknowledged for it.

Donnie went and narrowly missed your new monopolies.

Eugene was next and skipped right from the frying pan and into the fire by landing on one of your not built up properties. “Fuck you.”

“Count it out.” You rose up on to your knees.

“Kaleb, fucking help me.” Eugene grit their teeth and collected up their money.

“Oh boy…” Kaleb groaned.

In the end, Eugene was only able to stay in because they gave you Park Place. It meant you had all the blue spaces and just needed to wait out Kaleb to stack them as well.

Kaleb threw the dice as if they burned him and found he landed on his own railroad.

It moved to you where you easily skipped Donnie properties for your own before making good on that increased infrastructure.

Dean happily failed to get out of jail and Donnie went next.

He landed on a property of yours and paid a pretty penny. He seemed unruffled, but you could see the fringes of frustration clinging to him. You had bet your entire game on nothing but luck which in and of itself was irritating to Donnie. That paired with the fact that this gambit had played out while systematically dismantling everything he worked for had to be an incredible blow for his pride.

Eugene feebly took their turn and was knocked out by Dean on Connecticut. As if having actually gone destitute, they dropped their head in their hands. Kaleb patted them on the shoulder and offered to make them a drink after his turn. He took his and again narrowly managed to survive to roll again another day. You added a few more hotels as Kaleb departed to get a glass.

When he returned, Dean was still in jail and Donnie had just rolled a pathetic number that placed him on another of your properties. He threw the money across the board at you and the unraveling was becoming more apparent by the second. Eugene nursed their drink as Kaleb rolled and the final dice came to a painful halt that read he’d be staying the night at Hotel Chez Donatello. Donnie accepted the cash and, though he didn’t look at you, you could tell his anger was all being sent in your direction now that he had some padding to his pockets.

You took up the dice and looked to find your chances of escaping Donnie’s clutches to be relatively low. He had clearly calculated this as well and was a predator laying in wait. You stared right at him as you mimed kissing the dice before throwing them out. As if cosmically on your side, the others leaned forward and jumped for joy as you somehow threaded the needle and landed on Kaleb’s railroad. Donnie’s face remained neutral, but you caught the way he fisted his slacks.

Kaleb rolled and he made the saddest face possible as he landed on your property.

“You don’t have to pay.” You sent him a smile.

“For real?” Kaleb’s lips did a somersault for joy.

“There has to be an exchange!” Donnie snarled and jammed a finger into the board.

Eugene inched away from him on the couch.

“Make me one of those drinks then?” You were downright beaming.

“Done!” Kaleb made a zany face as he hopped out of his recliner.

You rolled and landed on your own property having maxed everything out. “Ah, the best part about coming home to rest is knowing how easy it was to win!”

Donnie muttered something and Eugene hit the opposite edge of the couch.

Dean went and freed himself from prison much to his own dismay.

It was Donnie’s turn and you felt like he might have crushed the dice to dust had he not tossed them. They landed him on your property and you could tell by the way Eugene was eyeing him that his funds were getting tight. There was something especially venomous about the clean way he stacked the bills precisely in front of you that contrasted how he’d tossed them earlier.

You added it to your till and Kaleb passed you a drink.

“A vodka cranberry.” He sang and sat. “How’my doing?”

“You’re alive.” Eugene grouched.

“We’re alive.” Kaleb quivered his lip and held out one die to Eugene.

Eugene took it with their own watery look and together they threw the pair. It ended up being Kaleb’s demise as he landed on Donnie’s most expensive property.

“C-Colonel Dee. Carson Deely! Dee-man…!” Kaleb plastered on a fake smile.

“You have been removed from the nickname stage.” Donnie looked up at the man from where he was craned over the board.

“I-What?!” Kaleb paled.

You winced.

You hadn’t considered collateral damage on Donnie’s part.

“You will pay in full.” Donnie turned his head incrementally and he practically oozed malevolence.

Kaleb and Eugene scrambled to make the bill. “I-I-I-“

“You can sell your property back to the bank and cover it.” Eugene looked up desperately.

“Sell to me and I may leave you with a single note.” Donnie tilted his head. “Or wait and I’ll purchase them anyway.”

“It’s not your turn next.” You corrected.

He glowered at you openly with enough wrath that you shrunk back against your will.

The plan was definitely working.

“The bank.” Kaleb agreed and passed the properties to Eugene before paying the rest of the cash to Donnie. “I’m out…” Kaleb dropped his desolate face for one of joy and scooped up his cocktail. “What a ride!”

“Teller, I’d like to buy the railroad.”

Eugene nodded and the funds were exchanged. You then rolled and landed on another of your properties.

Dean went next and got Community Chest. He pulled a Get Out of Jail Free card and collapsed onto the bit of table not occupied by the board.

All attention shifted to Donnie as he didn’t immediately take his turn. You looked and, while he’d been very cagey about his money prior, you could now glimpse that even with Kaleb’s endowment, he had very little. Depending on where he landed he would either be close to out or gone in another turn. Narrowing in on him, you saw the dart of his pupil as he did any multitude of calculations. “I’m purchasing Baltic.”

Eugene’s brows knit. “You sure?”

Donnie simply turned to him and Eugene reeled back. He snatched up the card offered and paid them before rolling. He landed on one of your more average properties and you saw cracks forming. It sucked up nearly everything he’d just earned and there were very few bills peeking out from his pile.

You took a long drag from your straw before rolling again. Chance advanced you to Go and you collected your cash.

Donnie’s knee bounced.

Dean took the dice and also got a Chance of his own where he was paid 50 measly dollars.  

Donnie reached for the dice and Kaleb caught Eugene’s hand. From his current position, Donnie only had about a 30% chance of hitting your properties, but it would be enough. You sort of wished you knew the game by heart so you could see if selling his stakes would be enough to save him.

The dice left his hands.

Luck had been on your side.

He landed on Boardwalk.

“Pay up.” You brought your head up to smirk.

Donnie reached for his bills when his hand halted.

You didn’t need to know what the properties were worth.

He did all the math for you.

All you needed to see was the exact moment he realized he didn’t have enough.

It was divine.

“Aw…” Your voice raised several octaves. “Don’t have enough?”

Donnie’s hand shook from where it was hovering.

You took another languid sip from your straw. “Wow, must be tough to know you were beat by superior players.”

Donnie launched himself over the table.

Your arms shot out and your drink left your hand.

The last thing you saw was Dean in motion before Donnie’s weight collided with you.

The two of you slid all the way across the hardwood floor into a nearby wall.

There was then a resounding clatter and you opened your eyes deliriously to watch as monopoly money floated through the air.

Kaleb let out a roar and shot out of his chair.

You looked down at Donnie to find him watching you with huge eyes. There was an open confusion there as he hadn’t quite put together what happened. You didn’t feel any pain despite being halfway across the room and found yourself bundled in his arms with his face to your chest. Staring at his owlish form, your lips wrinkled until you burst out laughing.

The others joined in and you throttled Donnie by squeezing his head in a tight hug. He slapped at your back for it and you released him.

“You sore fucking loser!” Eugene choked, unable to keep either his giggles or beverage where they were supposed to be. “Y-You think n-no one would notice y-you flipped the fucking b-board!?!”

“I-I did no such thing!” Dean stuttered before folding his arms. “I-It was him!” He unfurled only long enough to throw an accusatory finger at Donnie.

The two started arguing where Eugene could barely keep themselves together and you brushed Donnie’s cheek. He’d retreated into an open grouch and you dropped your voice just for him. “Welcome back, stranger.”

“Don’t welcome back the man who attacks you.” He tried to pull away and you leaned harder into the wall to trap his arms there.

“Nuh uh!” You tutted.

He hoisted himself up with his core alone to look you in the eyes. “Let go.”

“I’m fine.” You refused to shrink back. “I wanted you to do that; I was egging you on.”

His eyes widened slightly.

You realized he hadn’t recognized that.

Your heart dropped.

Despite his own suspicions and everything you’d done, he’d still placed his faith in you.

Overreaction it was.

“Y/N.”

“Look.” You brought your arms away from him in a show. “You didn’t hurt me at all.”

“Because I was holding ba-ck!”He hitched the final word, but it was already too late.

He hadn’t meant to say it.  

You took a turn with widened eyes. “I knew it!”

You accusation carried way above the whispered tones you had been talking in.

You both felt feel the other eyes in the room.

“Omigosh!” Kaleb yelled at the ceiling. “Eugene and D’Kline, and not Donnie and Y/N because they totally already know this and don’t need to move from that spot so they can keep talking about whatever it is they’re talking about, did you know that my fire escape works exactly like a balcony!?”

“Uh yeah… We’ve been best friends our whole lives…” Dean wondered aloud as Kaleb ushered him to a nearby window. 

“Wow! You’ve never seen it either!? Let me show you!”  Kaleb forced the jamb open and shoved the rest out amongst mild protests.

You stared blankly until Donnie wrenched himself free while you were distracted. “Hey!”

“What do you want?” He was about to get on his knees to stand so you caught two fistfuls of his sweater.

“We’re talking about this!”

“About what?” He seethed. “About how yet again I can’t control myself in front of you? About how I leaped at you over a fucking child’s game?”

You softened, but didn’t let go. “You’ve been holding back.”

“Ah yes, the proclamation I’ve been excelling at, he said sarcastically.” He scoffed.

“No.” You tugged on him. “You lost control more easily because you’ve holding too much back! Sound familiar?”

“We’re not having that conversation again.”  

“We are.”

“This is different.”

You yanked him until your noses were almost touching. “No, actually. The cause may be different, but you are not immune to making the same stupid mistake twice. If you’re going to keep being dumb then, spoiler alert, the same hashing out happens. These problems don’t fix themselves overnight!”

He sneered at the indignity.

“Don.”

Struggle tinged his features.

“I have a pretty good guess if you’re not going to start us off.”

“Every time I touch you I see your horror-stricken expression.”

You blinked.

It had taken so little prying.

You looked down to where you were holding him and released. He inched back some and smoothed out the fabric.

“That’s…”

What could you do about that?

“I’m not going to break.” Resisting the urge to soothe him, you held a fist at your chest.

He looked at the pair quietly. “That easily, you mean.”

“You think the more time I spend with you, the more you’re going to break me?”

 “Look what I’ve done so far.”

“You warned me that you’ll take until there’s nothing left.”

He looked at you with trepidation. “I did not intend that to be carved off in pieces.”

“It’s not like that.” You pleaded with your eyes.

“You’re afraid of the dark!” His teeth bared as he bit down on the final word.

You flinched.

“And…” You could almost see the memory pass through his vision. “…the way you cried. Utterly broken…”

You looked down.

Just like with you, the feelings were as irrational as they were valid.

“I’ve forgiven you.” You started slowly. “Can’t you forgive yourself?”

“No.” It was resolute and tinged with malice.

You also couldn’t make him.

You squeezed your hand tighter.

“Then can you at least not pull away?” You tried to catch his eye. “Please.”

He dodged your gaze. “I’m here, am I not?”

You reached up to get his attention and he begrudgingly looked at you. “Donatello.”

He chuffed.

“Yes, technically you’re right here with me, but you also aren’t. The holding back is a half measure and what you’re doing isn’t dealing with the issue. You’re avoiding it… which means avoiding… me.”

He thought it over.

“The ‘welcome back’ line was because you haven’t held me since.”

“That hardly counts.”

Your lids dropped. “It’s the best I’ve got.”

He was slow to move, but when he did he reached out. His fingers neared your arm and you saw a flicker of hesitation.

You leaned away. “You don’t have to.”

“There is a clear contradiction here.” His brows knit.

“I want you to touch me, but I always want that. Before this…” You made a gesture between you. “I understood it wasn’t something you always wanted too. Was it an issue then?”

He seemed to think otherwise so you gave him a quick poke of displeasure.

“What I mean is: you adjusted your schedule because, for the time being, I don’t feel comfortable being out after dark, right?”

“Of course.”

You pursed your lips. “Not because you did that, but because I feel the same way; I don’t want you to force yourself to touch me until you’re comfortable doing so.”

That clicked for him and he studied you. “Then why make me angry?”

“Because I wasn’t getting through to you. You decided this all on your own and refused to acknowledge it was happening!” You closed your eyes and sighed. “It was petty and I thought it could break through to you. Which it sort of did…”

He relented with a nod.

“I shouldn’t have done it, though…” You squeezed your hand again as the urge to touch him swept through you. “I probably could have just cornered you and you would have opened up… In hindsight, it was pretty shitty.”

There was another lengthy pause before he turned his hand over so the palm was facing up and held it out to you.

You heeded him by just lightly touching your fingertips to his.

He held steady as if testing the exchange before slowly shifting to enclose your digits under his thumb in a light hold.

“This isn’t an excuse, but the positive reinforcement I tried before this kinda blew up. I jumped to an extreme because I was upset.”

One of his brows lifted. “How so?”

“The uh…” Having to say it aloud hadn’t been something you anticipated. “You know, the more… flirtatious texts…”

You watched as he clearly wound back the tape in his mind to look for the clues. “Yes. You’d been more overt than usual. I had identified that as increased vulnerability due to what occurred.”

Your lips parted slightly before you bit them. “Even the shower one!?”

You watched the exact moment his processor crashed. It rebooted near instantly and he looked away.

You straightened a little. Kaleb’s place had great lighting and you were sure there was the barest blush on his cheeks. “Oh… Donnie!”

“What?” He buried the humiliation and snapped back to you.

Your bottom lip was surely red from how much you were chewing on it. “Did you like it?”

His eyes swerved in another direction. “You received your warning.”

Another question popped up, but it required you check for prying ears. Signaling this by wiggling a finger in Donnie’s hold, you looked towards the window and could just barely make out the back of Kaleb’s form. Donnie then looked over his shoulder before leaning in with a confirming nod that it should be alright to tell him something of a more sensitive nature.

If he had been blushing before, your cheeks were currently making a mockery of that. “Did you… jack off to it?”

That clearly wasn’t what he was expecting because his eyes shot wide before he reigned them in by shirking away. His hand pulled clean from yours and he covered his mouth.

This time you were sure there was a blush. “You did!”

“No!” He moved his hand away only long enough to ground the syllable out before returning the appendage to talk through it. “I’m… adding ‘licentious’ to your descriptors…” Embarrassment thinned his voice.

“What did you do?” You leaned into him with a curious whisper.

“It was without warning!” He clipped before reaching out to push you back.

That was the third time he had used that as a response. You narrowed your eyes, not sure what it meant.

“I-“ He pinched his brow. “Damnit.”

“I swear I won’t judge you.”

“How could you?” He shook his head. “Licentious.”

“Pot, kettle, whatever.”

He removed his hand and looked at you with great difficulty. It proudly displayed the obvious darkened dusting to his green cheeks. “In an act that one would equate with a teenager, I involuntarily… dropped.”

It took you a moment to process the way he’d said it before your hands flew up to cover your mouth.

He sneered. “I don’t know what’s worse. Your reaction or the fact that it happened.”

You shook your head and lowered your hands to reveal a beaming smile. “It’s not laughing. I’m…” You had to blink because your eyes were getting watery. “I’m honored? That’s definitely not the right reaction either but…”

A rumble of irritation came up from his chest.

“Has that…” You lowered your gaze before looking back up at him. “…happened with anyone else?”

He put together your intention and clicked his tongue. “No.”

Your smile grew brighter and with it that overwhelming urge to grab him. You squashed it, but your lips betrayed you. “A kiss? Just a little kiss… I just-”

He shot forward and covered your lips with his own. You tried to respond, but he pushed you back into the wall with a sudden peak of ferocity. It shattered your will and he let it linger before he finally pulled back. “What confusing opposition.”

“Wanting me and being afraid to touch me?”

He gave a single nod.

“We can…?”

“We’ll work on it.” His shoulders relaxed.

“As long as you’re willing; that’s a start.”

He sat back and for a moment you both let the conversation sink in. He then looked off to the side and you saw him thinking something over. You watched curiously until he mumbled aloud. “Positive reinforcement…”

“Mhm, like the metal thing I was doing.”

“There’s a three day weekend coming up.”

“Yeah, next week, I think.”

A curled finger came to his lip as he was deep on thought. “The machine is restrictive and could create its own negative connotations if we run into a similar situation…”

You weren’t sure if he’d meant to say that out loud as he usually gave an obsessive amount of care to those kinds of things, but taking a chance you adjusted where you were sitting. “Sounds like we just need to communicate then? Ongoing communication.”

He looked at you as if you held the key to solving his conundrum. “You would have little autonomy.”

What the hell kind of machine was he talking about?

“But it’ll help?”

“It has the potential to help both of us.” He seemed adamant.

“Then let’s do it.”

“There are innumerable things we would need to discuss first; I need to make a list…”

He was about to retreat into his mind and you reached out to him. He caught the movement and tensed up, but you kept yourself from grazing him. “We’ll do all that and more. I trust you.”

He blinked, a single time, and then no more.

You waited patiently until worry seeped in. “Uh… Donnie?”

“I gained it back.”

Of course you did, I love you.

Nope.

Not that again.

Damn intrusive thoughts.

“Gained…?” With a rush you were hit with the memory from outside your work building. “Oh… Oh.”

“Was that hyperbole?” He leaned into you to examine your response.

“No.” You shook your head. “You did… Huh, I don’t know when.”

“I see…” He withdrew and seemed a bit lost at the many things he now had to ponder.  

Forcing the clearly still confused feelings down, you moved to stand. He watched you carefully and you made a big show that you were going to give him a peck. He offered himself up for it and you kissed his forehead. “Wanna play a dumb game now and leave the rest of the serious stuff for later?”

“That is not something I ever imagined agreeing to.” He got to his feet and you could see him add yet another thing to his mental plate.

“Life’s a trip.” You chuckled and then moved around Donnie. “Hey D’Kline! Let’s play that four-leaf clover game!”

Dean’s head popped right through the window in a rush. “So Clover!?”

“Ugh, no!” Eugene’s whine carried.

“I’m sensing good things!” Kaleb chirped. “Yes?!”

You checked with Donnie who seemed a bit defeated but shrugged in a way that told you to go on.

“Yes!” You shouted back.

NEXT

[infernaleikon]

and isn’t it fine losing your mind? | obikin new girl au | 3.2k words | cw: cheating.

*     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *

Obi-Wan’s palms are sweaty.

He remembers his first time teaching high school: the way his mouth had felt so dry that his tongue had kept sticking to its roof, his heart stuttering against his ribs as his brain had kept chanting a canon of don’t screw up don’t screw up don’t screw up and you’re not ready you’re not ready you’re not ready, and how inadequate he’d felt standing in front of a bunch of hormonal teenagers whose education he’d been responsible for.

He remembers his first time teaching college: the nervous flutter of his heart and the thrill of a new challenge coursing through him as he’d stood in a lecture hall full of students who’d been looking at him with expressions ranging from boredom to curiosity to disinterest to open leers, and even though he’d still felt like he was flying by the seam of his pants, there had been excitement, too.

But despite the nerves, his palms had never been sweaty.

“Come on, guys,” Anakin is saying to the giant sliding door separating the living area of the loft from the hallway to the bedrooms. His voice carries an odd tone, something that’s difficult for Obi-Wan to pinpoint but that sounds deceptively like desperation. “This is stupid.”

“This was your idea,” Ahsoka’s muffled voice answers. “Now kiss!”

Anakin makes an irritated sound as a chant of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! erupts behind the door, and Obi-Wan wipes his palms on his pants while Anakin isn’t looking.

They’ve ended up here playing a game the rules of which Obi-Wan still—in his second year of living here—doesn’t really understand; though in his defense there doesn’t appear to be a comprehensive set of rules to begin with. They always appear to be made up on a whim. Every time he’d asked Anakin to explain them, he’d gotten an exasperated roll of eyes and a wave of hands with the promise that Obi-Wan would get it once they played the game.

Maybe the answer is even simpler: He’s too old for this.

In moments like these he wonders what possessed him to move into a loft with a couple of twenty-somethings who refuse to play anything by any sort of standard rules, defying everything Obi-Wan has ever lived by and understood.

It’s as bewildering as it is infuriating and inspiring.

Now, though, it’s terrifying. His palms are sweaty.

Anakin whirls around to him, the bright red petticoat he’d donned over his jeans for some reason at some point during the night swirling around his legs, and there’s a faint flush across his cheeks when he fixes Obi-Wan with an accusatory look on his face. “Why did you throw up a two?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t splutter. “You told me to.”

Anakin throws his hands up and the flush spreads down his throat to his exposed chest. He also lost his shirt some time during the game. Though why, Obi-Wan couldn’t tell if his life depended on it. Again: rules.

“I said not two!” He huffs and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan says as something curdles in his veins. It’s acrimonious and biting, and if he looks at it too closely, he might lose his mind, so he pushes it away and rubs at his jaw a little too hard, the discomfort a welcome distraction.

Anakin chews on his bottom lip as if he’s trying to think up ways of how to get out of this. He probably is. His girlfriend is behind the door and it’s one of the rare nights where she’s letting loose, too, drinking and laughing with her head thrown back, dressed in nothing but one of Anakin’s shirts. Of course he’d rather be kissing her.

But Padmé is behind the door and Obi-Wan can pick out notes of her voice as she chants with the others, and Obi-Wan wonders if she’d still be doing it if she knew just how badly he wants to shove his tongue into her boyfriend’s mouth. Or other places. That he doesn’t think about.

Right.

It doesn’t do good to dwell on things he can’t—and shouldn’t even want to—have. Anakin is twenty-four and his roommate. Anakin has Padmé. Padmé who Obi-Wan has mentored and who’s his friend.

Anakin is his friend, first and foremost, and Obi-Wan refuses to be—isn’t—some dirty, old pervert lusting after a college kid who has the world at his feet and the sky as his limit.

He almost startles when Anakin claps his hands. “We can do this,” Anakin says with the uniquely cocky self-assurance of a twenty-something. “It’s just a kiss. No biggie.”

No biggie. Obi-Wan repeats it over and over in his head like a mantra. No fucking biggie.

Anakin lifts up the hem of the petticoat to fish the phone out of his jeans pocket. Obi-Wan briefly wonders who the petticoat even belongs to because he knows for a fact that it’s not Ahsoka’s and he’s never seen Padmé in one. It does nothing to distract him from Anakin’s pebbled nipples, seared into his mind, even when he’s not looking at them.

“Okay,” Anakin says, stepping closer to Obi-Wan as he unlocks his phone and opens the camera. He lifts his gaze to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Just…pucker your lips.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him. “Pardon?”

Anakin rolls his eyes half-heartedly and waves his free hand in an undefinable gesture. “And don’t close your eyes. That would make it weird.”

“Me closing my eyes would make this weird?” Obi-Wan asks dubiously, kinking an eyebrow, and watches with mild amusement as Anakin pinks up.

“Just—” Anakin huffs and raises his arm, camera pointed at them, and says with a rough note in his voice, “Let’s get this over with.”

“So romantic,” Obi-Wan teases with a light-heartedness he doesn’t feel.

“I am, shut up,” Anakin says, and then surges forward and plants his lips on Obi-Wan’s.

The kiss is as short and dry and unromantic as a peck on the lips he used to get from his mother as a kid and still it raises all the hairs on Obi-Wan’s body, sweeping through him like electric current and making his skin tingle.

No biggie.

Anakin withdraws quickly without meeting his eyes and immediately sets to sending the photo to the others as proof. He bangs on the door.

“Okay, we kissed, you can let us out now!” he hollers.

A chorus of boos erupts from behind the door.

Obi-Wan hears Quinlan’s barking laughter. “What’s that?”

“Our kiss,” Anakin says as he tries to pull open the door to no avail and the petulance in his voice reaches whole new levels.

Obi-Wan loses his mind at his use of our. He closes his eyes and inhales counting to four. It’s not better than screaming but he’s forty years old, he has some composure.

“That’s not a kiss,” Aayla comments. “It’s you two duck-facing at each other.”

Kit snorts. “Yeah. We’ve seen Obi-Wan kiss and it’s always at least R-rated.”

Quinlan whoops and Cody groans. Someone catcalls.

Obi-Wan looks at Anakin in time to see his eyes skitter away, lips pressed tightly together and eyebrows slanted downwards. Poor boy. He shouldn’t be spooked into thinking Obi-Wan is going to ravage him.

“Anakin—”

Padmé’s pearly laughter rings through the air. “Come on, Ani, you can do better than this,” she teases. “Kiss him like I taught you. Kiss him like you’d kiss me.”

Anakin ducks his head with red ears. The small crowd behind the door cheers. Ahsoka makes an exaggerated retching sound.

Something roars inside Obi-Wan. Something dark and ugly and jealous. It claws at his throat, writhing and thrashing, making it hard to think beyond the unbidden images of Padmé guiding Anakin through how to kiss her, how to kiss, how to make it good, how Anakin would react to her praise—beautifully, Obi-Wan is certain, and hates it—and he forces himself to suck in a breath and keep his hands to himself so he doesn’t pull Anakin to his chest to—to—to overwrite Padmé’s claim on him.

Padmé’s laughs and laughs and laughs, unaware of the effect her words have on Obi-Wan.

For a brief, scorching moment, Obi-Wan wants Anakin to kiss him like he’d kiss Padmé and see for himself if he’d like that; if the way Padmé likes to be kissed is anywhere near to how Obi-Wan likes to be kissed. Wonders if Anakin would return to Padmé and kiss her like Obi-Wan showed him how to kiss.

It’s a dangerous train of thought. Obi-Wan folds his hands behind his back and breathes in deeply, smothering the wildfires of his unwanted and unwelcome jealousy that burns right through his bones.

It’s pointless to entertain such fantasies. Obi-Wan doesn’t like and doesn’t want to kiss people who don’t want to kiss him.

It’s clear beyond a doubt that Anakin doesn’t want to kiss him. He’s not going to push it. The last thing he wants, in fact, is to make Anakin uncomfortable.

“Anakin,” he says, softly, and waits until Anakin lifts his eyes to look at him. “There’s no need for us to kiss like that. It’s just a stupid game.”

Their friends have started up their Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! chant again but Obi-Wan ignores it and focuses all his attention on Anakin, tracing his eyes over the planes of his face. It softens the riot of emotions inside him to something achingly deep but sweetly tender.

Anakin scowls at him. “Yeah,” he says after a beat and then looks away, scowling deeper. “Duh.”

Obi-Wan huffs out an indulgent laugh at Anakin’s irreverence. “I’m glad to know that we’re on the same page about this.”

When Anakin looks back at him, there’s a determined glint in his eyes, and Obi-Wan moves to step closer to the door, only stopped when Anakin says, “I’m not a chicken.”

Obi-Wan balks. “Okay,” he says slowly. “At no point in time did I assume you were.”

“Good.” A smirk steals across his mouth, roguish and alluring. “Then let’s just kiss and give the people what they want.”

Obi-Wan’s brain grinds to a halt and for a second, he fears he’s having a stroke. “Fine,” he hears himself say and it sounds—nonchalant. As if kissing Anakin for real wouldn’t drown him in his desperate wish to have him all for himself when he so absolutely can’t. Shouldn’t. Won’t.

“Fine,” Anakin echoes, slapping the word between them with something that sounds like pettiness, and turns fully toward Obi-Wan.

They’re standing close enough that Anakin’s body heat sears into Obi-Wan’s exposed forearms; close enough that even though there’s only an inch or two height difference between them, Obi-Wan has to tilt his chin up just a tiny bit, and it’s so heady and tantalizing that Obi-Wan has to wet his lips. Anakin’s eyes track the motion.

A tiny crease appears between his brows and he flicks his eyes up to stare at Obi-Wan. “What are you doing?”

“Pardon?” He raises a hand, smooths it over Anakin’s hair before settling at the base of his neck, and almost comes undone when Anakin shivers beneath the touch.

Anakin’s gaze grows tempestuous and he retreats a half step. “Are you trying to prove a point?” he asks, sounding accusatory.

“And what point would that be?” Obi-Wan returns mildly. He retracts his hand carefully but doesn’t move away any further. Something is simmering in the air between them, though it’s impossible to pinpoint what it is. He keeps his own desire neatly folded away; there’s no need for Anakin to be confronted with it.

Anakin makes a frustrated, aborted noise. “You don’t need to be PG-13 with me,” he huffs with a roll of his eyes, insolent beyond belief. “I won’t break. I’m not a kid.”

“No, but you are a brat,” Obi-Wan answers without thinking and with a slight shrug.

“So you’ve said before,” Anakin scoffs and narrows his eyes. “Now will you please kiss me?” He says it like he’s throwing down a gauntlet between them.

“Darling, I’m trying.” He moves in again, his fingers drifting softly along Anakin’s jaw.

Anakin shifts, restless. “Like you would kiss—like you’d kiss Quinlan,” he says. There’s an edge to his voice that sounds very close to petulance but it’s not. Obi-Wan knows how Anakin sounds when he’s petulant, has dealt often enough with it to hear the distinction. And this is not it. But it’s impossible to place.

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to kiss him anymore. He takes a breath, the beat of his heart hard against his ribs and loud in his ears. “I can’t begin to fathom what you thought I was trying to do, but now I really don’t want to do this anymore.”

It sounds—too suggestive and he only barely holds in a wince.

Anakin groans and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Dropping them, he says, “Just kiss me!”

“I’m really not in the mood anymore.” He needs to stop talking.

“If you were before, you’ll be again.” Scratch that, Anakin needs to stop talking. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

Oh, how Obi-Wan hopes not. But—

“Anakin—”

“Kiss me.”

Obi-Wan feels like he’s rapidly losing control of the situation, irritated and spread thin. “Anakin—”

“Come on, Kenobi, just kiss me already!”

“No, not like this!”

It spills out of him unbidden, desperate and raw, and Obi-Wan freezes when the words drop between them.

Anakin blinks big, blue eyes at him. “What?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “No, I—”

Anakin’s gaze grows laser-sharp and Obi-Wan feels stripped bare beneath it, winding the threads of himself tightly around his fists to keep from unraveling.

“What does that mean?” Anakin asks quietly, knifelike and piercing. “Obi-Wan, what do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he says, steady and calm, over the erratic beating of his heart and the storm that’s raging in his head. “I’m—let’s not make something out of this that it’s not.”

He steps away and to the door.

“Obi-Wan.”

He’s probably imagining the desperate note to Anakin’s voice when he yanks the door open to be met with a crowd of surprised-looking faces.

Quinlan is the first to speak. “I see no signs of debauchery.” He arches an insufferably smug eyebrow.

Obi-Wan has the mild urge to smother him.

“Debauchery wasn’t on the menu tonight,” Obi-Wan replies smoothly, and Quinlan laughs, the dick. “We kissed. Game over.”

They all stare at him expectantly. He shrugs. “Anakin sent you the picture.”

He’s met with a chorus of groans when they realize he means the one of the kiss they deemed inadequate and start protesting, but Obi-Wan is tired and there’s panic simmering beneath his skin still.

“There’s no rule that says it needs to be more than that,” he argues, glad that the apparent lack of rules is in his favor.

Ahsoka looks from him to Anakin with a raised eyebrow. “Anakin said ‘threat of tongue’ when we stipulated the conditions.”

“Prove to me that there wasn’t ‘threat of tongue’ in the kiss,” Obi-Wan says.

“Touché,” Ahsoka concedes, laughing, and raises her beer can in acknowledgement.

The rest of them boo like little children, which should be more irritating than amusing but Obi-Wan shakes his head grinning, despite himself.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, Obi-Wan is certain—by the way his skin tingles and pebbles with goosebumps—Anakin is staring after him. He barely even hears Kit and Quinlan’s heckling cries over the sensation or the others’ disappointed booing, and bites back a sharp rebuke.

He wants to slink away into his room to breathe, quite honestly. He doesn’t.

Instead, he waits until their little party winds down; until Ahsoka and Barriss—who’s endured this night gamely—slip away to Ahsoka’s room, and Aayla promises to get both Quinlan and Kit home without detours. Cody crashes in Rex’s room. Padmé stays over tonight as well, and Obi-Wan does his best not to pay attention to it.

Obi-Wan pads into his room through the deserted hallway, exhausted and relieved. He’s almost at his door when Anakin slips out of his own room.

He feels his confession hanging in the air between them like a haunting. He doesn’t know what to say, so he simply wishes Anakin a good night.

“You could’ve just said, you know,” Anakin says before Obi-Wan turns away. At Obi-Wan’s confused look, he adds, “That you don’t want to kiss me. You could’ve just said that. I wouldn’t have made you. It’s fine. I get it.”

He really, really doesn’t.

Anakin smiles at him, small and soft and—sad, maybe, impossibly. He turns to go towards the kitchen.

Obi-Wan doesn’t think. He reacts to Anakin thinking he didn’t—doesn’t—want to kiss him. (Though how he arrived at that conclusion might forever be a mystery to Obi-Wan.)

He spins Anakin around by the biceps, winds an arm around his waist, threads his free hand into Anakin’s curls and slots their mouths together.

Anakin makes a soft, surprised sound against him but his lips open without hesitation.

And then they’re kissing.

Obi-Wan licks into his mouth hungrily and swallows another little noise Anakin makes, pulls him closer and curls a hand around jaw to angle his head. Anakin opens up so beautifully, meets Obi-Wan’s tongue with his own and sucks on it as he fists both hands in Obi-Wan’s hair, urgent and desperate. Obi-Wan maps the inside of his mouth, hears himself make broken-off gasps as Anakin bites at his bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

They both pull back for a split second before crashing back together again and there’s no finesse to it: they bite and suck and lick at each other as if starved for one another, greedy, so greedy, and Obi-Wan drinks in all the beautiful soft sounds that roll of Anakin’s tongue.

The kiss gentles to something sweet and lovely and they separate, just briefly, just for one breath, and Obi-Wan presses one brief, gentle kiss to Anakin’s seeking mouth, and then another.

The world crashes back in between one second and the next, and Obi-Wan releases Anakin reluctantly.

For a moment, they breathe together. Anakin raises his fingertips to his lips and when his eyes find Obi-Wan’s, his pupils are blown wide.

“I meant something like that,” Obi-Wan murmurs, and steps away, toward his room.

Anakin startles when the door to his room opens and Padmé peeks her head out. “Ani?”

Anakin clears his throat once, twice. “Be right there,” he says, voice rough, without looking at her.

Obi-Wan smiles at her and waves. She returns it before closing the door again.

“Good night, Anakin,” he says quietly, and slips into his room.

With his heart beating in his throat, Obi-Wan leans against his door and tries to catch his breath while his mind replays the kiss in an endless loop. He licks his lips, collecting the spit on them, and the ghost of Anakin’s touch sears into them, unmistakable and ineradicable.

He should feel guilty.

He doesn’t. Not for kissing Anakin. Not for kissing Padmé’s boyfriend.

At the core of him, there’s no regret.

Only the question of when he can kiss Anakin again.

Obi-Wan exhales, deep and long. His palms are sweaty, again.

Huge fucking biggie.