#im giving it the stuff tag. i said enough that i feel like it's earned the stuff tag.

[444rockstargf]

Hey, "high with Clyde" anon here (and high again, funnily enough). Smut you say? I've had a thought circulating in my mind recently. Going shopping for new clothes with Jack Thurlow and trying stuff on for him to rate while he sits all pretty on that couch they have there (y'know, that one that they have specifically for guys doing the exact same thing?) while you model for him. And for whatever reason - maybe his responses have been rather lacklustre and you want his....ahem, "enthusiasm", or maybe just cuz you're devious like that - you decide you wanna rile him up a little bit. So! At the next store, you grab like, the sluttiest outfits available unbeknownst to him, and then model them all for him, feeling all smug that he's practically drooling at you

And when he finally reaches his breaking point, the next thing you know, you got your feet behind your ears and his hand over your mouth so you don't get caught. 🤤 Idk, do with that what you might. ^^

you've done it again, anon 🙌🏽

"i get dressed to ride for you, baby." | jack thurlow

burning desire. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@livingdead-reilly @imoonkiss @lankysimp @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526 @greenxgloss @wild-rose-35 @areuirish

female!reader x jack

word count: 1.8k

contents: public sex, unprotected p in v, missionary position, creampie

“you’ve got 5 minutes to try everything on, you hear me?” jack called out as he sat on the small leather couch outside of your dressing room, brows furrowed as he crossed his arms and slumped into the seat knowing full well you were going to take your precious time trying on every single outfit. so much for a "fun" shopping trip.

inside the small room, you had an assortment of clothes in front of you, ranging from long flowy gowns to dark blue baggy jeans and designer sweaters. a top-tier selection of clothes but none of which were to jack’s taste. but you decided to test your luck anyway.

minutes later, you stepped out and stood right in front of him, wearing your first dress. “how’s this one, jack?” his eyes were downcast, looking at something on his phone. you tapped him on the shoulder, only earning half of his attention. “hm? it looks nice, dolly.” you pouted, moving your hand to his chin to make him look at you. “but you didn’t even look at it.” he moved your hand away, looking you up and down with an unamused gaze. “i said it looks fine. now are you finally done so we can get out of here?” 

you rolled your eyes, walking back into the dressing room and slipping off the dress. you picked up a skintight black dress that was so long it dragged on the floor. surely this one would grab his attention, you thought to yourself as you paired it with a white, button-up sweater. you put on a pair of light-brown heels that were hidden by the fabric, stepping out once again and patting his cheek. 

“what about this? is this one better?” you gave him a little spin, giving him a full 360 degrees of your body in the tight dress. he gave a little smirk in response. “yeah if you wanna look like a nun, i guess. is this the last outfit? i don’t think i can listen to the music in here any longer.” you huffed, discouraged at how nonchalant he was. “yes, im done.” you muttered, walking back into the dressing room to get back into your normal clothes.

you walked out of the dressing room empty-handed, leaving everything behind since none seemed to give you the reaction you expected from him. he took your hand, dragging you out of the store and back into the main mall. “good riddance,” he muttered under his breath. “can we go home now, angel?” your eyes scanned the assortment of stores surrounding you until they landed on one that would surely sell clothes that would blow his socks off.

you shook your head. “not yet, i just wanna go to one more store. please, just one more place?” you begged, staring up at him as he groaned. “only one more. you head on inside, i’m going to grab a coffee. i’ll meet you in the dressing room.” with that, he released your hand and let you go your own way. 

you dashed into the store, immediately pleased by the outfits in the display window. you wasted no time picking up everything you saw, picturing the look on his face when he’d see the clothes on you. you walked into the dressing room, starting to change into one of the outfits as you heard his voice.

“you in here, doll?” he said as he sipped on his hot drink, waiting for a response. “i’m here, jack. just gimme a sec, okay?” he nodded, immediately realizing that you couldn’t see his answer. he sat down on the seat in front of your dressing room, sighing as he scrolled on his phone. “this damn girl…” he whispered to himself. then he was interrupted by the noise of you walking out, standing right in front of him.

you didn’t have to tap him to get his attention this time. his eyes were caught by the shiny black thigh-high leather boots you had on. then his eyes traveled up, first landing on your dangerously short pleated skirt and low-cut tube top that showed just enough cleavage to make his breath hitch (this is the outfit). you placed your hand on your hips, looking down at him as he swallowed hard, immediately putting his phone down and gripping the seat.

“now i’ve got your attention.” you remarked smugly. “you like this one, jack?” you took the words out of his mouth, his cheeks covered in a bright pink stain as his mouth gaped open. he cleared his throat, nodding nervously as a stupid little smile tugged at his lips. “y-yeah, this one’s nice, baby. give me a little spin, will ya?” your face lit up and you twirled, making the skirt lift up just a little as your heels clicked on the ground.

jack squirmed, shifting his position so he was sitting with his legs crossed, suppressing a painfully obvious boner. you grinned triumphantly, happy that you could break his cold, hard exterior. you walked back into the room, making that sad that you were going away but excited to see that next set of clothes you’d have on.

minutes passed and jack found himself impatiently tapping his foot as his mind ran wild with thoughts of you wearing such intimate clothes just for him. his hard cock was straining against the rough denim of his jeans, making him groan quietly as he placed a hand on top of his bulge to calm the throbbing sensation.

his foot began to bounce on the ground with anticipation, and soon enough he couldn’t take it anymore. he sprung up from his seat, pushing the curtain of your dressing room to the side and popping his head in. “are you done in here?” you jumped slightly, startled. but jack’s eyes became as wide as saucers as drool began to drip down his lips. 

you stood in front of the mirror, wearing a small tennis skirt with a plaid pattern on it, paired with a white silky shirt that was more revealing than your bra. and your cute little feet in those white knee-high socks didn’t help the matter either (the outfit). “jack! i’m not done in here yet!” 

he walked into the room, approaching you with a lust-filled haze as you backed into the wall behind you. he closed the curtain of the room, pinning you to the wall and pressing his body into yours, his boner pressing into your stomach. you gasped, the heat of blood starting to pool in your core as he grabbed your face and pulled you into a very sloppy kiss.

“goddamnit, woman… you just know exactly how to drive me crazy, don’t you?” he grabbed your ass, lifting you off the ground and making you wrap your legs around his waist, your clothed, throbbing clit now in contact with his pulsating bulge. you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again, this time using his tongue to tease yours with his gentle flicks.

your hips began to grind on his, desperate for even the smallest amount of pleasure to still your nerves. jack groaned deeply, whipping out his cock and pumping it quickly. you glanced down, seeing that his girth had nearly doubled in size because of how swollen it had gotten. he rubbed his leaky tip on your silky panties, feeling your wetness through the thin fabric.

you let out a shaky moan, grabbing onto his muscled biceps as he set you down on the wooden bench that was meant for clothing. he pushed everything else off, leaving room for only you as he pushed your legs behind your head, the wet spot on your panties much more conspicuous in this position.

jack bit his lip as he grinned from ear to ear. “that’s my little model…” he trailed a teasing finger down your cleavage until he got all the way down to your dripping wet cunt. he replaced his finger with his cock, getting off from the feeling of your wet folds hungrily attempting to swallow him.

“guess we should get these out of the way, huh?” he slipped his cock underneath the thin string that covered your pussy, breaking it away with a light tug. your breath became shaky as the cold air hit your grooling cunt. jack spat on his thumb, rubbing messy circles onto your clit as he lined himself up with your hole.

the tip slipped in effortlessly, along with the first few inches. you moaned quietly, making jack clamp his hand over your mouth. “it would be a shame if we got caught in here, wouldn’t it?” with a low groan, he pushed in the remaining inches of his rod, making your eyes well. with his jeans down to his ankles, his hips began slapping into yours.

your eyes rolled to your back on your head as the perfect curve of his dick made him reach nothing but your cervix. you felt your drool bubbling all over his hand as deep, heavy breaths escaped from his parted lips. his large cock abused and stretched out your tiny hole, much to his pleasure.

his fingernails dug into the back of your thighs as his balls slapped your asshole with every deep thrust. your hands found his wrist and forearm, gripping the skin tightly as a white-hot knot began to tie in your stomach. jack’s orderly thrusts quickly lost their composure as your muffled moans made his core boil.

strings on precum connected him to you each time he pulled out. he flipped his hair out of his face, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed back curses that threatened to break free. “s-shit… that’s it, baby… takin’ my cock so well…” 

your back arched as you ground your hips against his, desperately chasing the orgasm that was just in your reach. your gushy folds hungrily ate up his cock, making him toss his head back. “use my dick, angel…just like that.” you brought your fingers to your clit, sobbing into his hand as you felt yourself cumming all over him. he grabbed your hips, fucking you at lightning speed as his balls sagged with cum. in a matter of seconds, he was filling up your tight, swollen pussy with loads upon loads of his hot seed.

he pulled out of you, watching as his cum cascaded out of your hole like a milky waterfall. you panted breathlessly, slowly regaining your composure as jack tucked his cock back into his pants before getting you all cleaned up as well.

you put on your clothes, looking at the mess you two had just made in a public residence. but before you knew it, jack was out of the dressing room, carrying all of the clothes you tried on. you walked behind him quickly. “where are you going?” jack smiled back at you. “to the cashier. i look forward to my little model putting on a show for me every night.” he dumped the pile of clothes onto the counter, the cum-stained skirt above everything else like a cherry on top.

author's note: thank you "high" anon for the request! istg I rlly didn't mean for it to get so long

[logically-asexual]

so i don’t know what to say to this one. mostly i don’t know how to feel.

this is getting long so i’m putting it under read more

first of all. of course there’s going to be perks that people want out of the patreon, otherwise why would they pay. the top tear costs 2,690 mexican pesos a month which is more than what i earned by working 10 hours this week, that’s gotta be worth something.

most of the discourse around the patreon is contradicting because sometimes people complain about there being nothing, only livestreams and merch discounts, and how that’s not fair to the people paying; and then sometimes people complain that there’s too much stuff, like the writers room and exclusive videos, and how that’s not fair to the people not paying. i don’t know what opinion to have here, mostly because i don’t have a patreon so i don’t feel like i have a right nor enough info to complain either way.

what you say confuses me because according to the descriptions of the tiers on the website the tier that gets bonus videos is the patton one, which isn’t that expensive and is the most popular one. and the top tier only gets the annual video call, surprise gifts and a poster as things that others don’t. so please forgive me but.. i don’t know if you’re telling the truth? and this is absolutely not meant as a bait for you to prove what you’re saying by telling me details you’re not supposed to. i don’t want that and don’t care about it. i just. i don’t know how to feel about all this.

i think that if thomas has this content that he wasn’t going to post anyway (i heard about a Sanders Sides episode that was sponsored but something didn’t work out with the sponsor so they couldn’t post it on youtube, and there’s also the extended versions of stuff) like then i don’t really mind that the patrons get to see it. i wasn’t going to see it anyway so who cares.

what does concern me is whether the production of patreon exclusive content is getting in the way of sharing content with the rest of us. because. if you have time to make something, and you can either do something for the public or for the patrons, then the ones paying you will always have the priority. so if the team is dedicating a lot of time to patreon, and that’s the/ part of the reason cartoon therapy is gone and the wait for sanders sides gets longer and longer every time then. im annoyed and upset. and wish they could do better.

also moving on you talk about the annual call and i am just so conflicted about that too. so much of the fandom has this parasocial i guess relationship with thomas because he’s just so nice and friendly and refers to everyone by name and replies to most things he’s tagged on etc. and that’s nice i love that and it’s made me feel very happy when he sees my silly fanart. parasocial relationships are probably not 100% bad and there’s good that can come from them, but there’s also negatives. and this thing you said about it feeling like you’re friends with him but that that could die as soon as you stop paying is really weird and i don’t know what to think about that. i personally wouldn’t sign up for that even if i had the money, my mind isn’t stable enough to process that kind of thing.

if what you say is true i definitely hate that you guys know all this information about Sanders Sides that we don’t because. i’m very upset that he’s sharing that lore and info by just like. talking about it to the paying fans. instead of actually making the damn episodes. sounds like rowling saying dumbledore is gay with zero intention of addressing it in the text, just to get attention. why don’t you behave like the professional writer that you are and go write an actual story where you address the things you’re talking about? instead you’re behaving like me, a random tumblr user with a hobby, who gives up on writing in a fanfiction due to laziness and inexperience and just posts the bullet points on tumblr to get validation.

anyway im sorry. in conclusion.

i think it’s fair that the patrons get good rewards for what you pay. i just do in fact find the specific rewards they offer questionable. not because it’s fair or not. but because of what it means for the actual videos that will be produced. the writers room and video calls will affect the series no matter how much they insist they won’t. and revealing those secrets shows that the production of the episodes isn’t going well or that it’s going the ‘tell’ route instead of ‘show’. which sucks.

[clumsyclifford]

ok hello i absolutely love all ur fics, you’ve just got a certain quality in ur writing that is just… mmm. yeah so anyway, do you have any advice on how to improve or just how to write?? (especially fic cause personally i struggle with that more than original stuff??)

hello!! that is very kind of you to say thank you <3

advice on how to write. oh boy. oh man. well i can try. i will do my best. i will also try to be brief but we all know how that song goes

update from having finished answering this: alright. okay. this is not only long, but decidedly english teacher-y. i’m sorry that i am the way that i am. this is what you get for asking a leo for writing advice. am i joking? maybe. maybe not. anyway. this post got away from me in a big way so here’s a read more. warning: LONG post under the cut.

1. study your characters. for RPF like the band stuff i write, that literally means watching interviews, watching them perform, seeing how they interact with each other, picking up on their mannerisms (behavior) - what they do with their hands, if they repeat themselves or stutter when they talk, the quality of their voice when they're talking about different things, and so on. also keep track of things they mention a lot in interviews especially about each other - for example jack has mentioned before that alex has an annoying habit of twirling his hair when he zones out. that kind of thing. IMPORTANT NOTE!: you don’t have to use all of this information. just like studying for anything, you collect all the information you can and then you parse through it and use whatever you think will contribute or be relevant to your story.

2. remember that characters are people. or at least they’re representing people, which is an important distinction (see #3). still, considering that your characters are people can be a helpful way to get out of your head. see, characters are supposed to be archetypical, and fulfill a role, and say certain things in certain ways and never really deviate from that. but people are highly unpredictable and behave in random ways for random reasons and have thought processes that are unfathomable. people will just do fuckin’ whatever. if you’re worried that your characters aren’t behaving in a believable way, keep in mind that you’re trying to make your characters represent people, and people’s behavior is justifiable any number of ways. people just do shit.

3. remember that characters are not people. sike! no but seriously, this is just as important to remember. unfortunately, no matter how hard you try, characters are never going to be people. that’s a good thing for stories, though. characters can pick up on nuance in senses that people can’t - they can distinguish between different facial expressions, different smells, different sounds - BUT ONLY INSOFAR AS IT MOVES THE STORY ALONG. in other ways, characters are ridiculously oblivious. you can use this to your advantage. in fact, a lot of the time, you have to. if your character notices right away that someone is flirting with him, then you can’t write a 30k slow burn, for example. characters don’t do that thing humans do where they go “what?” but then halfway through the re-explanation they register what’s been said. pretty much everything characters say has meaning. (by this i don’t mean semantic meaning, i mean significance - characters don’t really just say “what?” because they didn’t hear what someone said, they say “what?” because they can’t believe it or they don’t understand it or they refuse to understand it. characters never seem to run into the didn’t-hear-them problem. must be nice.)

characters can do whatever you want or need them to do, because you’re in charge of them. (sometimes this doesn’t feel true - mine do all kinds of shit and i just have go “well alright then” - but it is true.) they are gears in a story. you decide when and how they turn.

4. dialogue is your friend. i am super super biased here, because i looove writing dialogue. if you talk to sam about this i’m sure she would say that description and narration are the ways to go. but you came to me, so i get to say that dialogue is god. i don’t want to say that dialogue is the only method of communication (i know nonverbal communication is real), but dialogue is the fastest and most effective method of communication, and by extension, the most effective way to advance relationships between characters. now. obviously there are exceptions. if characters are kissing, they’re probably not doing a lot of talking. if they’re trying to be undercover or discreet, they’re more likely to rely on gestures and facial expressions than speaking. if you’re writing a very peaceful scene, you might not want to undercut it by adding a lot of chit-chat. but i maintain that dialogue is the best way to move a story along, for a few reasons. 

first, at least for me, too much description is just tiring. depending on how skillful the writer is (sam), i can read a fair amount before i hit my limit, but unlike in mean girls, the limit DOES exist. you don’t want to over-describe the world (see #5). second, i find that dialogue is a really really good indicator of a person’s character. this is especially true and relevant in fanfiction, which is a lot more character-driven than original fiction in many ways. also, in a sec i’m gonna talk about showing [not/and] telling, which is every english teacher’s bitch, but dialogue is a really good way of showing who a person is and also a good way to establish facts about the universe. you could just narrate and be like “Jack hated waking up early,” and that works and in many cases it’s perfectly legit. but you could also do something like this:

“What the fuck,” Jack mumbled, still half asleep. “You better have a really fucking good reason to be waking me up this early. Like someone better have fucking died.”

and sometimes that’s just a more fun way to say it. (for the record you can also show AND tell here! there’s no reason why you can’t have this line of dialogue and then a line in the narration confirming how very much jack is not a morning person!)

the last reason why i am particularly fond of dialogue is because i am also particularly fond of communication, which is a preference thing. let’s face it, guys: characters aren’t gonna communicate if they’re not literally actually talking to each other. dialogue means talking to each other. talking to each other means solving problems, fixing (or creating) conflicts, understanding each other better. i love communication, ergo, i love dialogue. And You Should Too. 

5. describe the world, but don’t over-describe. i opened this fic earlier and it was like “jack was excited to wake up to go to his first class at the university of baltimore” and i just. i was like is this really relevant. do i really need to know this. and i never found out because i closed the fic but in my defense it was on wattpad and i had only opened it out of curiosity. look. there are three ways to use details in fic. (a) introduce them right away (b) introduce them when they become relevant or (c) don’t introduce them at all. let me give you some examples. 

(a) say your character A (i’m using jack because i’m used to him) wakes up. he’s in his room in his house off-campus. character B (rian) walks into the room. this might be a good time to explain that rian is his housemate. to that point: “show not tell” is a good rule, but sometimes “show and tell” is just as good. e.g.: 

Rian walks in, holding Jack’s Green Day shirt and looking irritated. That’s really nothing new; Rian looks irritated at Jack roughly once a day. Being housemates for a year will do that to a friendship.

boom, now you’ve let everyone know they live together without throwing it in their face, and you’ve also told everyone that these two guys are friends and have been friends for at least a year but probably longer. you showed it by having rian walking in holding jack’s shirt - usual housemate behavior - but you also told it in a subtle way that established the relationship and some kind of history between these two. well done.

(b) sometimes you want a certain detail to make an impact. this is the kind of thing you hold onto and don’t specify, and in certain cases you leave the reader wondering, “well what about x?” and then when you finally explain x they go ohhhhhhhhhh. yknow. the italicized oh. consider the following:

(A)

“Alex is in my bio class,” Rian says, referring to Jack’s ex-boyfriend of last year.

Jack frowns. “So? Why should I care?”

“He’s my lab partner,” Rian says. “I have to spend a lot of time with him.”

“I don’t care what you and Alex do,” Jack says. “But you should know he sucks at bio.”

Rian gives Jack a look. “First of all, that’s not true, he’s incredibly smart. And second, I’m telling you as a courtesy, because I thought you might not want your ex-boyfriend hanging around our house after he broke your fucking heart.”

(B)

“Alex is in my bio class,” Rian says.

Jack frowns. “So? Why should I care?”

“He’s my lab partner,” Rian says. “I have to spend a lot of time with him.”

“I don’t care what you and Alex do,” Jack says. “But you should know he sucks at bio.”

Rian gives Jack a look. “First of all, that’s not true, he’s incredibly smart. And second, I’m telling you as a courtesy, because I thought you might not want your ex-boyfriend hanging around our house after he broke your fucking heart.”

the only difference between these two excerpts (which i just wrote lol they’re not from anything real) is that the second one doesn’t explain who alex is right away. that makes it way more interesting when rian reveals who alex is a few lines later. magic.

(c) take this college au that we’ve established here. where does it take place, you ask? easy answer: it doesn’t matter. you don’t need to say what school they’re at. this will make your job easier, because then no one can fact check you, and it also means you don’t have to decide what school they’re at. but even if you do decide, it’s not usually necessary to say. believe me, you can go thousands of words without ever needing to specify what school they’re at. you know why? because it doesn’t matter. and no one cares. and as soon as you specify in canon that they’re at a particular school, you are bound to be accurate to everything that school does, and that makes your job way more difficult than it needs to be. as hazel once said, work smarter, not harder. 

6. adverbs are also your friend. (yknow, words that describe verbs, typically ending in -ly, like “loudly” or “angrily” or “smoothly”.) ESPECIALLY when it comes to dialogue tags. (dialogue tags are the things you add to dialogue to say who’s talking and how they’re talking - like “he said” or “he whispered” or “he earnestly explained” or whatever). a lot of the writing advice you’ll see nowadays will usually guide you away from overusing dialogue tags other than the classic “says/said” and i STRONGLY concur with that advice. things like yelled, cried, mumbled, snapped - these are very good in moderation, when you’re really trying to emphasize the way a person is speaking. the more you use them, the less impact they have. in most cases, a simple “he said [adverb]” will do. instead of “he snapped” consider “he said curtly/sharply/coldly.” instead of “he mumbled” consider “he said quietly/clumsily/softly.” I WANT TO MAKE IT CLEAR THAT THESE ARE NOT DIRECT SYNONYMS. every word has a nuanced and slightly different meaning and that is the BEAUTY of the english language!!!! all i’m saying is that in many cases, a verb can be replaced with an adverb to achieve roughly the same effect, without making the reader feel like they’re scanning a thesaurus.

and speaking of a thesaurus: it’s not cheating to use outside resources like thesaurus.com to help you come up with words. i fuckin love thesaurus.com. i use that shit all the time for everything. i use it when i’m writing emails. i used it just now to write that last paragraph. thesaurus.com is your BEST friend.

7. grammar. (and spelling but that’s really a given.) unfortunately if i tried to teach you all of the essential rules of grammar this post would exceed tumblr’s previously-nonexistent word count limit. so i’m not gonna teach you any of them. this is just a general point to suggest that if/when you’re writing, have someone you trust, with a good grasp of grammar, look over it. of course it doesn’t have to be perfect or AP style or anything like that. readers will overlook a certain amount of grammar mistakes and every reader has a different threshold. but in general, as a grammar geek and former journalism editor-in-chief, i have a duty to my grammurai code to preach the importance of grammar in writing. good grammar does not necessarily mean good writing and vice versa, bad grammar does not necessarily mean bad writing, but bad grammar makes good writing a lot harder to read, and in some cases will even obscure your actual meaning. so please, have someone read it. for the record this is me offering up my services. i am very good at fixing grammar. i have lots of weaknesses in writing but grammar is one of my strengths. please prioritize grammar. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

***

okay so now that i’ve said all of this shit and pretended to be an expert and embodied everyone’s tenth grade english teacher, let me add one very important disclaimer:

none of this is always relevant.* writing is an art, not a science. you are never going to be following all of the rules, all of the time. you shouldn’t. it’s good to know the basics of constructing a plot, establishing a character, showing and/not telling, moving the story along. but a lot of this advice is really subjective and heavily influenced by my writing experience and habits and tendencies and preferences, and those are simply not generalizable to the world. i am a sample size of one and science dictates that that means my results cannot be statistically significant. i am just some guy. earlier i said you don’t want to over-describe the world. but maybe you do! maybe you’re really into worldbuilding and you want people to know what they’re getting into. maybe you’re like sam, and you just don’t feel as confident in your dialogue skills but you love painting word pictures. i said that adverbs are your friend, but maybe you just prefer to use verbs. maybe you don’t want ANY dialogue tags and you want the reader to interpret the dialogue based on context and content. i said that characters aren’t people and they won’t behave like people, but maybe you’re trying to write hyper-realistic characters. maybe you’re just going for believability over narrative. WHATEVER. the point is, rules are made to be broken. no one is going to have The Answer for How To Write Good because there isn’t just one answer. every single writing rule has exceptions and you can be that exception as many times as you want.

*except grammar. grammar is fucking always relevant.

i hope any of this advice was helpful to you, even though i english teacher-ed the fuck out of it. and for what it’s worth, i approached this as if you were a relatively novice writer, but i know absolutely jack shit about your writing prowess and experience and habits. so maybe you already know all of this and none of what i’ve said is helpful at all. if you have a more specific problem, i would be happy to try and help. if you’re hoping for more specific feedback, i’d have to read something of yours first - but again, happy to try and help. i don’t know if you can tell but i loooove writing and english and grammar and all of this shit and it would be my honor. i have now spoken so long that james madison himself is begging me to shut up so i’ll stop here but thank you for coming by and giving me the opportunity to expatiate a shit ton. and GOOD LUCK i forgot the most important advice of writing which is HAVE FUN LOVE WHAT YOU WRITE AND WRITE WHAT YOU LOVE OKAY BYE

[spikesbimbo]

Drunk in Love

Summary:  Getting drunk and confessing your love for your “boy” friend and fucking him was most definitely not what you expected to go down on the usual night.

Pairing: Issei Matusukawa x Reader

Tags: Timeskip!Tattoed Mattsun, softdom!issei Hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, smut, fluff, virgin!reader, Unptrotected sex, non-penetrative sex, fingering, oral, pussy/thigh job, clit slapping, sweet dirty talk, praise, drunk sex

Word count: 7.2k

A/N: I heard pussy job and I wrote a whole ass novel

18+ Minors DNI

You run your finger over the condensation of your empty drink, drawing shapes (or what you thought to be shapes, you couldn’t tell at this point) waiting for your dear friend, Makki to bring you a refill of your cocktail.  

“Here ya go.” Makki said as he returned with your beloved Malibu Sunset. The smooth coconut rum bringing you back to your first and favorite drink that you ever got drunk on in high school. You smiling at the memory

“Thanks.” you say. Your reply being mumbled by the liquid already in your mouth.

This all started with Iwaizumi calling Mattsun up, you and Makki hearing “You wanna get wasted?” on the other side of the phone. And with pleasure, you two were already packing your stuff up, shoving yalls “pregame” bottles back in the bag. The three of you made your happy way there climbing through the fence of the abandoned skate park you were in. Needles to say it was abandoned for a reason, but what’s life without a little danger.

You three and the rest of the third years have been friends since high school, meeting in freshman year, and now including Oikawa’s girlfriend. You actually didn’t like Oikawa at first, his “pretty boy” demeanor making you internally cringe. But his personality grew quickly on you, being the perfect target to tease you and Iwa clowning him over everything.

Now back to you on your nth drink, complaining about your previous job that fired you because u got injured, even though you know you wouldn’t have lasted long there anyways because you weren’t that academically inclined. Bright? Whatever you wanted to call it.

And as-usual it wasn’t long before your crybaby ass immediately called Makki and Issei and “tried” your best to tell them what happed with your dramatic self-induced tears running down you race, while Makki urged to you to try to calm down and Issei straight up laughing at the state your were in, snot running out of your nose. You recoiling at the thought, hoping they forgot. (Spoiler, they didn’t)

But now you nanny for a rich couple and you get payed good to play with cute babies all day, sounds good to you! Luckily, you had the week off due to them going on a vacation, you think it was France, no, the south of France. Must be nice.

Cue to now, Mattsun chuckling and leaning on you and Iwaizumi; both of you, especially Iwa, being visibly done with his shit. Him reminding you about the times you bought him some random shit, which you went out of your way for since he always payed for you, like that chopper keychain because you said it reminder you of him.

He didn’t know what compelled you to say his 6’2, tattooed built self looked like a tiny reindeer but okay. It still meant a lot to him, hooking it onto his motorcycle keys. But you knew he appreciated it, despite his appearance he’s a softie.

“You wanna try this’” He says gaining his composure offering you one of the shots he got.

You took one of the mini glasses, not being the type to back down and promptly swung the drink to the back of your mouth, quickly coughing before it even reached your throat.

“This shit is fucking gross.” You coughed out bringing the glass down from your lips.

  “Imagine being sober. Can’t relate.” He said taking another shot.

  “I guess I should do that but ive passed the point of giving a fuck” You said sending yall into a giggling fit while somehow Makki was thrown in to support yall from falling over. You two carry on laughing ignoring everyone’s stares at you thinking about how much yall fit perfectly together.  

   Makki rearranges himself to sit back in his chair, far away, from the both of you, whispering “Damn. I’m really third wheeling.” under his breath. Getting a snicker out of Oikawa sitting next to him.

   “When your best friends are ignoring you. Sad times.” He continues bringing his bottle to his mouth getting no response.

  Issei chuckles and gets up shoving his hands in his pocket reaching for the cigarettes. Pulling them out while failing to find his lighter

  “Fuck.” He muttered

  “Any’all got a light?”

  No one responds so you sacrifice yourself “Yeah” you say reaching into your pocket grabbing out your prized possession of a hot pink, bedazzled lighter that you did yourself, reaching out to hand it to him.

  “Don’t lose it” you stated seriously trying not to break a smile.

  “K’ sweet cheeks.” He said smirking into the butt between his lips as he walked away. Your face now burning up, hoping that everyone would think it was because of the alcohol.

  You mind wanders, thinking about the “dates” you two go on, from watching shows you “forcing” him to watch some romantic anime, to going to the skatepark, to playing video games with the rest of the 3rd years (which you don’t really like but you’ll play for him) and him surprising you with takeout, you bringing out candles trying your best to make it cute with him telling u everything you everything about his day.

  And you always tried to remain calm, even though sometimes he deserved to get his ass beat, like that one time he broke one of your favorite pair of heels. It honestly hurt him even more, he wanted you to get mad at him but no, you just acted like nothing happened. Making the guilt rise in him. Let’s just say didn’t have to lift a finger for the next few weeks.

You basically babied him, taking care of all his “chores”, mainly making him food when you were at his place knowing he hated doing it. Makki teasing you for acting like his housewife, leading to you slapping the shit outta him while trying to cover your now red cheeks.

You’ve never been so grateful for your attire at the moment, blessing yourself for not wearing your usual outfits of short skirts and cute tops, defending yourself saying what housewife dresses in beat up vans and baggy clothes. You definitely not imaging yourself in that position for the rest of the day.

 You expressed that you just liked to take care of people, which was true. You always looked out for them, bringing an extra umbrella, to bringing cookies you made at 2 in the morning to school, always carrying band-aids (yes, the paw patrol ones you took from the kids you babysit).

You checked the time on your phone seeing it was late since the sun at last went down, your lock screen being your dogs to their complaint since they have a group photos of you all from high school as theirs. To which you replied “They’re my babies” getting a groan and huff out of them.

  Seeing the notifications of your group chat you grinned at the contact name you and Issei gave each other; yall jokingly call each other pet names, his contact being honeybun and yours being pumpkin, even including Makki in your contacts as pudding bc then it wasn’t weird, right? no.

  “What’re you smiling at y/n?” Oikawa cheekily asks teasing you. You turn to him giving him a dirty look, not having enough energy to deal him right now.

  “Don’t listen to his bullshit.” Oikawa’s girlfriend says. You’re thankful for her. She was always on your side, being the only other girl in your friend group. To be honest you just wanted her and you to hang out most of the time, but of course to your disapproval her boyfriend and his friends had to join in.

  “Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m sleeping.” You say getting up to her objection, the only thing on your mind wanting to retire for the night.

  “You sure you’ll be fine? Let us at least walk you home.” She said already grabbing her boyfriend’s arm.

  “Nah, im good. I live right down the road.” You try to say not slurring. The last thing you want is him teasing you even more, especially in this state, knowing you, you’d probably start crying at the slightest irritation when youre this drunk.

    You started to “walk” towards your house resting  your hand against the brick walls to not lose your balance, leading you to run into Issei. You stopped to watch him lean against the alley holding a cigarette between his index and middle finger.

  “I’m hiding like a bitch” He says noticing you, resting his weight against the wall.

 “Wanna be a bitch with me? He grinned  blowing out the smoke out with his words.

You didn’t reply, just walking over to him, just being around him made you feel warm.

"Fuck its windy.” He says trying to light a new cig.

“C’you make me a house?” He asks.

You go up and put your hands around his cigarette, this not being your first time. Your hands wrap a little tighter to prevent the wind from burning out his flame. He joins you with his free hand helping, finally getting his cig to light.

 “Thanks doll” He smirks.

“No problem princess.” You reply earning a laugh out of him.

He takes his first hit with his and your hands still wrapped around it. He gets an up-close look at your hands, noticing how tiny they were, seeing all the scars that he never noticed, making a mental note to ask you how you got them later.

His head gets close to yours for the first time in a while due to his height. You glance at his face, noticing his features seeing some stubble growing on his face.

“You ain’t shave?” You ask, never seeing it in the past, while he was moving back up, blowing the smoke away from you.

“What, you don’t like my majestic beard? “He jokes. Making you giggle almost losing your balance before catching yourself on the wall.

  “s’too much work.” He starts. “You wanna shave it for me?” he says slightly leaning towards you. Handing you back your lighter knowing you didn’t need him to carry it because your pants actually had pockets in them for once.

You let out a soft laugh not responding again. He catches on, you got quiet when you were tired and he made out that you were walking towards your house.

“You going home?” he asks already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” You respond more than happy to have him walk you back, him already moving to walk next to you.

He walks you home, you two talking about random shit, both of you forgetting about your skateboards leaving Makki to deal with them. And even though you’re drunk as fuck you’re still in the right state of mind, carrying a normal conversation with him. But just because you’ve built a tolerance doesn’t mean you can do basic tasks, like walk correctly.

When he reaches your house, he types in the keycode, your first dogs birthday, being glad that you, him and Makki have each other’s memorized.

He leads you into you house setting you on the couch, petting your dogs that ran up to him.

“Mommy’s not feeling too good” He said giving them the affection they deserved.

“Yes I am.” You slurred getting them attention on you now.

He walked over to your counter putting on the playlist that you two made together on shuffle, High fashion being the first to play. You didn’t like when it was quiet because too many thoughts would run though your head. You were in no way sad, singing the lyrics while you were laughing barely being able to hold yourself up as proof.

Remembering you were tired, he takes you off the couch and borderline carries you to your room, , setting you on your plush blankets that you had so many of because it was warm and comfy.

 “Easy, there. Try to sit up.”He said, trying to ask you what draws your pj’s were in because he didn’t want to snoop around; neither of you being bothered that you were half naked, what’s the difference between panties and a bikini, he thought remembering the times you’ve been to the beach together.  

Well it was maybe the fact that you were clinging onto him because u stumbled into him and he was closest stable thing around and you wouldn’t let go because it was cold and you couldn’t stop shaking.

 He ignores his thoughts and grabs the shirt he got out figuring you don’t need to change your bra because you told him and Makki that it was normal to keep it on for a few days after they were in awe as you were explaining how expensive they were. You calling Oikawa’s girlfriend to prove your point as she immediately agreed with you…Sometimes you might have got a little too comfortable with them.

You hear the song in the background change to Love Songs, you humming along, “Hope you smile when you listen.”

You were still holding on to him, your boobs squeezing against him, him only being able to put a t-shirt on you, while you looked up at him with your red glossy eyes making him burn up.  

You fidget timidly with your face now in his chest while gripping his sweater. Trying to build up the little courage you had. He tilts your head up making you look at him, wondering what you were thinking about.

  You try to express yourself, but you can’t get the words out him having no idea what is going on in your head at the moment.

“It’s okay to be nervous sometimes. Tell me” He gently says reading your body language. He was intuitive, so there was no way you could hide your feelings from him.

But you knew you could trust him, him having full self-control, always staying collected and following through on what he said he’d do.  He went out of his way to avoid any friction coming between you two, him never raising his voice or starting an argument.

“We need to talk.” You started. “About something important.”

“Ok…What is it?” He questioned rubbing his hands on your back. You were so nervous, were you really about to say this? Confess your feelings that you’ve pushed to the back of your heart for so long?

“I… I l… I love your face. And the stuff in it. and around it.” You spoke, being surprised you did it stutter.

He stood there, hands stopped moving trying to process what you just said.

“Just you, in general…”  You finally confess trying to state three things at once barely getting your words out.

But he understood exactly what you meant, or maybe he was warping what you said to fit what he wanted.

  "I don’t even know when I started liking you, but this shit won't go away." You restated

  Nope. He clearly just heard you say that.

  He doesn’t understand what’s so different about today. Yall have been in this scenario multiple times taking care of each other, sometimes including another into the mix.  

You didn’t understand either. You just felt like the time was right, even though you know it wasn’t the best idea to confess while you were drunk off your ass.

But you couldn’t help it, your feelings overflowing, which you never until this day let get the best of you, being vulnerable and trusting is not your usual . Youve never even had a crush on anyone, him being to only in your whole life to make you blush.

  Who you been vibin' wit and why I can't make you mine?

  You should have seen the signs that you feel for him when he helped that lady that lives down the street from him set up her Christmas lights or when he first met your dog that wasn’t fond of men, but it instantly liked him. And you loved his selflessness it was something you admired and applauded.

  “y/n” He tries talking you down, making sure you weren’t just saying this because of alcohol, deep down knowing he felt the same, you always being in the back of his mind.

You were generous with your time too, always being there for him. You knew he was softer than he appeared, he was tender, sensitive and vulnerable. He tried his hardest to not get into situations where anyone would get hurt, like breakups, arguments, and so on.

Which is why he won’t make the first move. He pushes his feelings to the back of his head. He values your friendship more than anything, but he can see what develops. If love is meant to be, it will happen.

I told you I am down for the worse or the better. But I keep sticking to you cause them four stupid letters

    “You make me so happy. And I’ll always care about you. Okay? He says breaking the silence, trying to reassure you.  

  “You mean so much to me—something I can’t even put into words because nothing can compare- I’ve wanted you since that day you tripped and bust your ass in the school hallway I still want you even though you drive me insane.”

  “Iss-“ You tried to get out only to have him continue talking over you.

  "I love that you can’t leave the house without a jacket. I love the wrinkles that appear on your forehead after you call me crazy. I love that it takes you hours to get ready. I love that you always know how to make me feel better. I love that even when you don’t agree with my decisions you always trust me to make them.  I love that when I spend a day with you, I can still smell you on my clothes; and I love that you are the last person I think of  before I go to sleep at night."

  You stood there awestruck for what feels like eternity until you mustered the bravery to speak “I didn’t expect you to feel the same way-” You said, being dumbfounded because from what you’ve seen treats everyone “nice”, were you really getting special treatment?

  He tilts your chin up, locking his dark eyes with yours. “Baby I don’t know if your notice but you and Makki are my only people that aren’t my family that call me my first name.”

He has a point. You think pushing yourself more into him, trying to fuse your bodies together to hide, not relaxing what you were doing to him. He tries to nudge your legs to the side but you won’t let go still clinging onto him.

“fuck” He groans. You pulling back wondering why until you looked down and noticed. A smirk appeared on your face as you reattached your self to him like velcro. You were feeling bold, the liquid courage still in your system driving you to slide your fingers down his chest, looking him in the eyes before stopping at his waistband.  

He knows what you’re doing, him being in this position multiple times. Does he really want to ruin your friendship like this? He hasn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend. He tries to push you off him already knowing you were gonna complain. But what he didn’t expect was for you to whimper out his name in that pretty voice of yours.

 He tried to keep his calm, blood already rushing down. “You know what you’re doing”

“yeah” You start.

“y’don’t want me?” Giving him your pouty face that you know he’s weak for, hoping that’ll work, insecurity piling up. Was it because your boobs weren’t that big or that fact that you were dressed like man? Was he not attracted to you right now, only liking you when you were dolled up?

“Fuck” You think. You should have worn something cute instead of dressing like a whole ass man even with your makeup fully done. Its not like you were supposed to know you were gonna get fucked today.

His were burning holes into you now, thinking of how to say “No, I would be more that happy to fuck you!” to his best friend, soon regaining his consciousness finally speaking.

“Fuck no doll, ive wanted you for a minute. You know me better than I know myself. How did you not notice my feelings?”

 You got me singing love songs, love songs, love songs

“You’re really hard to read” You replied trying to maintain your seductive act, resting your hands back on his chest.

“So are you.” He said lowering his head, you still looking up at him, taking in your gleaming eyes.

Sex ain't the only thing that's on my mind But you get me so excited, whoa

Your heart was beating so wildly that you could only take little sips of breath. His hands running down your waist stopping at your hips.

“Can I kiss you?" He asks "...yeah” you attempted to say as confidently as you could, nodding your head along with it.

His face bent down, hot mouth breathing over you. His lips slowly moved, brushing over yours, the liquor on his lips that you hated; only choosing fruity drinks even though you got relentlessly teased you for it.  You pushed further into the kiss desperately wanting more. Your teeth clicking his from being impatient, wanting to suck him in. Your hands sliding under his shirt subconscious desires reaching out.

Irreplaceable Tattoos from your neck that drop down to your ankles

“You’re drunk…” he says snapping you out of your trance.

“So are you.”

He dove in for another kiss much more passionate than the previous one, arguably needy, pusing you on the bed to which you more than happily comply. He tugs back not letting his mind get the best of him, disconnecting your spit trial leaving you panting. “You sure this alright?” He says deep down hoping you still say yes.

  You pull him back for your answer, your grabby little hands working their way back up his shirt. He gets the hint and pauses your lips rendezvous, taking off the turtleneck that he looked oh so good in, before seeing his unclothed body.  You’re admiring his body in a new way, before just complimenting him whenever he got a new tattoo, now up under him tracing them like a lovestruck teenager.

“When did you get this one?” You quietly ask, his ears closer to you than they’ve ever been.

“I got it that day you faked sick”

“What! You said were gonna take me!” You sulked, turning your head away from his as much as you could, crossing your arms.

He let out a slight laugh before gently taking your face in his hands, guiding you back into the kiss.

This is not really what he imagined for your first time. He’s an old-fashioned romantic who likes to take one step at a time. But then again nothing was ever normal with you. That said, when he falls in love, he falls deep.

“You’ve done this before?” You uttered.

“Hmm?” He mumbles, unmoving his lips from you kissing you, moving towards your neck.

“You still with that other girl?”

“No. I broke it off her, everything that came out of her mouth was bullshit, and no she wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“You didn’t trust her? You added. Trying to distract him until you could think of a way you could say “hey in my 21 years of life I’ve never got passed kissing a guy.”

“Our relationship was purely built on lies, I’d second guess everything she said. He replied, wondering if you were interrogating him.

“Why’d you wanna know?” He asked bringing his face up from your skin.

“…No one’s ever touched me like this, fuck.” You bashfully admitted, thoughts racing through your head that he didn’t want you anymore because you weren’t experienced.

But he knew what was running through that pretty head of yours, his fingers reaching out to with your hair trying to comfort you.

“You’re a virgin?” He curiously asked dragging his hand to your cheek, you leaning into it.

“y-yeah” you muttered trying to move your eyes away from his looking down at his body.

“I thought you had a boyfriend before” he said, softly turning your jaw to make you look at him. Your eyes diverted from his arms back to his eyes.

“We weren’t actually dating” You quickly say trying to clear up the misunderstanding. “He was my friend and seatmate that pretended to be my fake boyfriend to get me out of some trouble” you spewed out “and I guess I forgot to tell everyone that it was fake.”

“Even if we were that doesn’t mean we fucked.” You sheepishly replied.

“So… what trouble did your fake boyfriend get you out of.” He questioned knowing how much trouble it must have been for you, miss independent, to go to such lengths.

“Umm, well…this guy wouldn’t stop flirting with me even after I told him I don’t like him, even following me to my other classes.”

He wasn’t surprised, you were definitely a sight for sore eyes, in fact the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes on, your beaming eyes, your dimple when you smiled, your pretty face, your “ugly” laugh, he could go on for days.

“Why are we talking about this” You whined, reaching your hand back out to him.

He took a hint and continued kissing you, bringing you closer to him while you attempted to take you shirt off. His hands helping you seeing as that you were struggling, being lost in his touch, finishing by moving you up more on you bed, pushing your plushies out of the way, to your protested because “they had feelings too.”

He ignored you, bending down to pull your panties off stopping once he saw the slick coming through them.

“Fuck baby you’re wet” He breathed dragging his fingers across your clothed slit earing a whimper from you, leaving his fingers drenched.

 Shawty, you wanna feel good, I wanna feel good too Don't I make you feel good?

“M’always wet.” you responded.

From what? He questions taking off your soaked cotton panties, tossing them to the side.

“From me?” He smirks bringing his hand back towards your heat. You not even comprehending what he just said, just knowing that you’re ashamed of how worked up you were getting.

You were in awe. You’ve always known his hands were big, but in this situation your mind wondered. His fingers were so much bigger than yours knowing you can barely fit two inside your with out it hurting, and not in a good way.

“Do you know how pretty you are? It’s honestly distracting.”. He says kissing down your whole body, stopping at your breasts, licking lazily around and coming back to the nub. The attention on your nipples making you squirm and he finally lets go, you grateful that he stopped or you would have almost cum, how embarrassing.

“I thought you said were gonna get them pierced” He remembered, you going on a whole rant about how cute they were.

“You said u were gnna get em with me” You looked back on, reminding yourself making him promise to get them with you because you were too scared of the pain.

“That was the same day you played sick and I got that tattoo.” He stated lightening the mood, hoping you can calm yourself down before you actually embarrass yourself.

He picks back up and continues kissing all the way down your body, you playing with his hair while biting your lip to muffle your moans and whine until he reaches your entrance.

He parted your legs, your pussy laid out before him, believing you no have reason to be shy about it either. He paused, admiring your swollen cunt and puffy clit, you were beautiful.

The feeling that he didn't want anyone else ever in his position overtook him. He let out a little breath on your clit and you thrashed around. He wasn't going to play. “I’ll take care of you.”

His lips travel over your skin, light and heated before settling himself between your legs, grabbing you by your thighs and dragging you closer. “That tickles.” you giggle, nerves making you kick your legs, almost hitting him in the face before he grabs them. He puts them down locking your legs with his arms, lowering himself until he’s on the ground facing you.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” he teases while your covering your face trying to hide the blush he caused.  He puts his mouth on you, quickly gripping your thighs, his hands leaving imprints in your skin dragging you even more into him, deprived kisses taking over your body. 

“yer so pretty” You purred seeing the sight of his big build between your legs, your fingers grabbing onto his curly dark locks, tugging them.

  Issei moans, his voice radiating through your body, forcing out a cry, blessing him with your pretty voice. “I-Issei!” You cry, never feeling like this before, your vibrator and hands doing it no justice.

“Shh, just look at me, doll.”

You can barely make out what he says, so drunk on pleasure. You try your best, doing anything to see the pretty man beneath you. But you get interrupted by your pleasure, your back arching not being able to control your body, grinding down to meet his lips, heat rising in you.

He kisses through your wetness playing with your bud. You choking on your spit, back arching again your body tensing up. “Issei,” You beg, grabbing him knowing what you want but not being able to express it. Luckily he can read you like an open book, knowing what you want, driving you over the edge as he makes you see stars. “Good girl,” he sighs when he feels you let go of his wrist letting him bring you your first orgasm.

“Look at your thighs shaking so much.” He teasingly cooed, wrapping his hands around them, bringing you out of your daze.

Shawty, your body is so exciting

Arching your back into the blankets, letting out a whine “Want your fingers.”.

He lets out a condescending laugh. “You need to learn to be patient. You just came and you’re already so eager for more?”

But by the time he finished your body went limp, you were totally weak, body loose-limbed and pliant. Your mind clouded by lust and deep in your own world. You gasped out a little sob, unable to comprehend anything beyond the discomfort and the need to have it gone. You can’t think straight all you can do is take action, grabbing his arm him easing his fingers into to you.

It’s not too tight, is it?” you ask clenching around his fingers.

 “Just relax… let yourself feel it” He says barely being able to move in you. Fuck so were so tight.

“I love the way you look with my fingers inside you.” He added starting to thrust them inside you, making you let out a string of moans.

“Look how good you take it.”  

“Fuck, you’re so messy.” He groaned feeling the slick running down his hands, before taking them out.

“Issei-i,” You cried when he pulled away, pleasure leaving you, tears coming back.

  He shushes you easily, his fingers wiping your tears. You were so precious to him, your moans music to his ears.  He slows down repositioning his fingers, making you let out a whimper squeezing around them. Your brains so crowded you can’t focus, can’t gather the strength to speak when he thrust them faster inside you.

  Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you fell back, fingers curling inside you, chanting his name over and over, incoherent words coming out of your mouth begging for more. 

You pussy tightens as you cum, unable to breath, letting out gasps and whines. Him still fucking you, fingers not stopping, pushing them in and out relentlessly feeling both pain and pleasure. You lay there, wet in your own cum not giving yourself a break before you went and got what you really wanted, his cock.

His eyes followed the movement of your hands as they pushed down his boxers, revealing the length of his cock, that jutted proudly from his hips. He was so pretty, so virile and handsome. Wondering how lucky you were to be in such a position with him.

You pushed away those thoughts and focused on him, pulling him forward gently, but he followed his encouragement. One of his hands tilted his cock down toward your lips. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

You parted them instantly, tongue sliding slightly outward, and then you whimpered as the warm weight of his cock slid into your mouth. You let your eyes flutter closed and swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock not knowing exactly what you were doing, but it was working, tasting the salty tang of the precum that wept from his leaking slit. You moved your tongue as the he put his hand into your hair, gripping the strands and pushing deeper into his mouth.

“You look so good on your knees like that. “He says meeting your eyes once again, almost cumming from the picture below him.

“Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” He says slowing you down by grabbing your hair, making a pace that you follow.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that.” Seeing that sinful look in your eyes with your redden swollen lips.

You moan feeling yourself drip down your thighs, getting even wetter giving him head. Trying to ease the discomfort by closing your legs, griding them together, trying to find some friction. Your ears hearing “That’s so fucking hot.” watching the scene unfold beneath him.

Your jaw hurts, trying got make him cum faster using your hands and lips together hollowing your cheeks. “Oh fuck, oh, Jesus, fuck yes, there, just like that, fucking Christ" he groans out, his voice sounded beautiful to your ears, knowing he was about to cum.

He finally lets go cumming in your mouth, you swallowing it all, trying not to wince at the taste. “Did I do good” You ask waiting for his reply. Your doll eyes, so red and worn out looking up at him for approval. Fuck he was whipped.

“Yeah…fuck baby”

I love when you get on top and you ride it

You get back under him, his cock resting on you, drenched and clenching around nothing, resting in your cum. You working yourself up against him.

“What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?” He says to your complaint.

“You’re not ready yet.” he mumbles against your whining. Spreading your legs, slapping your clit a few times before letting his cock rest on your folds. Finally getting “seated” he picks up your legs and puts them both on one of his shoulders your thighs warming his cock, your knees touching his cheek not moving, getting a kick out of how desperate your were for him.

“s-stop being mean” You cried reaching out for him to come closer, needing affection after all you’ve been though.

“Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you? He says leaning into you, reaching your kiss, tasting the remnants of the cum in your mouth.

He plundered your mouth and slowly teased his cock over your entrance, catching it against your clit and making you whimper into the kiss, clearly wanting to be fucked. Your kiss turned you sucking on Issei’s tongue and lips, biting the swollen pout until his lips were red and puffy. He pulled back and looked down at you, a beautiful mess under him.

His fat cock head pushed between your folds. The moan escaping both of your lips was primal. You were turned on beyond imagination and the way he was thrusting forward, spreading his leaking precum on your wet clit was almost too much. He quickly picked up his pace fucking your folds, his warm head brushing against your clit with every movement, but your greedy self wanted more.

The fact that he made you cum so easily made you proud. Just because you’ve never gone this far with someone else doesn’t mean you’ve never cum, you’ve had a lot of practice over the years, being insatiable, the sheets soaked underneath you from your previous orgasms being proof.

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.” He moans getting your attention him.

You tried, you really tried, but the way he was stroking you, imagining what it’d be like to actually sit on his cock, the lewd sounds echoing in the background leaving you unable to focus.

He taps on your cheek eventually getting you look at him, keeping your mind on him by placing his fingers in your mouth you letting him, hazily sucking on them, not being able to close your mouth.

“Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.” He grumbles. Your spit dripping onto his fingers, the friction of your thighs making him feral, moving at an even faster pace. Your body bouncing with every thrust.

“You gonna cum after I cum on your little clit? Come one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.” You sob feeling the puddle beneath you, time slowing, fire pooling in your tummy.  Listening to his words you let yourself go. You come with a silent scream as the pleasure ripped through your body, your nails scratching his soft skin. Your vison fading to black feeling him lose his rhythm and moaning a mixture of curse words along with your name, feeling him cum on your tummy before resting his head in your neck while letting your legs go.

“So good for me, look at how much you came.” He says breaking the static. You whining into his shoulder, emotions high, never doing this before.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.” He says. You two laying in silence for an unclear amount of time, him rubbing your back while you rest in his chest almost dozing off.

“Are we still…friends?” You croak out trying to hold back your sobs already knowing the answer that you two were defiantly not friends now and never would be just friends again.

“Friends don’t do this type of shit” He maintained grabbing your shoulders to sit you and him up. You were worried, did he only do this with you because he was drunk? You were anxious that you scared him away because you just poured your heart out to him and pushed yourself on him. You left your head down, tears already coming out to your dismay. You moved your hand up to wipe them but he beat you to it.

“Look at me… I love you.” He says holding your cheeks in his palm. You in awe, hoping that you weren’t imagining it, that this was real life.

“R-really” You question making him worry too, preferring to forgive and forget rather than letting this a divide between the two of you in case you went back on your feelings. You were so overwhelmed, never feeling love until this moment, so happy that the person you longed for liked you back. Yours tears running once again.

 “Shh, shh, it’s alright...Don’t cry.”

You don’t even know why you were crying, the hangover already getting to you making you get a headache. You groaning in his arms complaining that your head and throat hurt.

“Ill be back” he says detaching himself from you, letting you know he was coming right back.

He walks to your fridge opening it to see every drink but water, having too dig through all of them, especially the absurd amount of apple juice guessing it was your “once a year craving for it”. He finally got you some cold water, putting It in a cup and waked back to your room.

  “Issei” you whined not picking your head up from the pillow.

  “Shh baby im right here.”

  He sat down beside you on your bed lifting your head up. “Here drink this” he reassured, to which you ignored not wanting anything to go in your mouth, just wanting the day, or night as it was now, to end.

  “It’s just water, honey, look.” You sat yourself up with his help seeing him in just his boxers, you remembering your still naked, not caring enough to cover yourself. He held to glass to your mouth, babying you, tilting it far back enough to where you could drink it. The water hit the back of your mouth feeling like a shot making you cough.

“I know, it hurts. I’m sorry but we have to” He stated. You continued to drink it, feeling the stinging in the back of your throat, him comforting you, calling you “good girl” which was unsurprisingly working.

  He put the cup on your dresser when you finished, climbing back into bed with you leaning your body into his. “Have you ever thought about...us? Y’know, as an...item?” he said causing you to look at him with wide eyes.

 “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” He insisted making you cheeks flush. You try to think of a way to respond, not wanting to keep him waiting.

“You’re the best thing that has, and ever will, happen to me. Not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend.” You stammer out, your shaky hands somehow made there way to his neck, letting them fall slowly before he grabs them dragging you in for a kiss before you got to even see his face.

“Everybody has always thought we’re a couple.” He continued taking his time kissing you all over your face. “Then I guess we should be.” You retort, kissing him back before you could see his reaction, not wanted to be embarrassed anymore today. But he caught you, holding you still “Really “y/n? Like deadass?” He asked.

  “Yes dummy, I want to be your girlfriend” You say causing him to grin swearing you’ve never seen him smile that big, before he gives you one last kiss.

  “I always kiss you on the cheek, why are you blushing now? He teases laying back down, you following along. You just snuggle into him mumbling something along the lines of “m’tired”, he understanding and speaking to you in a soft, gentle voice while helping you to bed, so he doesn’t make it harder for you to sleep by being loud. “I’m here love, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers into your ear mkanig your heart swoon one last time before you pass out.

  “I l-love you issei.” You sleepily mumble.

“Tell me this when you’re sober.” He says stroking your head.

“Just relax, close your eyes...”He murmurs, your heart beating slower every second. Both of you together, lazy, slow presses. Limbs pressed together, chests heaving, fingers trailing down backs, tracing lazy patterns.

  “Oh!…” He remembers. “If you really wanna get them pierced, we could get matching ones.”

© all content belongs to spikesbimbo. do not alter or repost .

[storiesforallfandoms]

too much ~ henry cavill

word count: 1709

request?: yes!

“hii! i was wondering if you could write one where Henry Cavill and the reader are trying new things in the bedroom, like BDSM, and the reader gets overwhelmed so they have to stop and Henry takes care of them? thank you!”

description: in which they try to spice things up in the bedroom, but it becomes a little too much for her

pairing: henry cavill x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut, im also gonna put a warning of overstimulation and use of a safe word just in cause (i’ve seen it tagged as warnings before so i just want to make sure everyone knows before reading)

masterlist (one, two)

Henry was very much a gentleman when it came to sex. He wasn’t into doing things too fast or rough, unless it had to be a quickie. He was slow, gentle, tender. He treated every time you two had sex as if it were the first time.

That’s why you were so shocked when he asked if he could tie you up, blindfold you, and to tease you with the only actual sex toy you owned: a vibrator for the times when Henry was gone for a little too long.

You were definitely more than excited for this idea that Henry had, it would definitely be a great way to spice up your sex life, but you were still confused as to where it came from. You didn’t really have time to ask, though, as you were too excited to get things going the moment he suggested it.

You were sat on the edge of the bed, already stripped down to just your panties and bra. Henry was stood in front of you, holding one of his ties in his hand. He had taken out three - one for your eyes, and one for either of your wrists to tie to the bed - and you were grateful he had picked out something soft and comfortable for your first time trying this stuff.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he repeated for the third time.

“I’m starting to think you don’t want this,” you teased. “I’m sure I wanna try it at least. If it I don’t like it, I’ll just use the safe word, okay?”

Henry nodded. He leaned down to give you a quick kiss before wrapping the satin material around your eyes and tying it behind my back. With your vision gone, your heart started to race. You weren’t sure if you were nervous or more excited now, maybe a combination of both.

Henry helped to guide you gently onto your back and placed you in a way that your arms wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. He tied both your wrists to the headboard, allowing his hands to run down your arms and over your bare stomach in a painfully slow way. You tried not to whimper as they skimmed over your still clothed breasts, almost purposely teasing you.

One hand continued down your stomach and pressed against your clothed core, causing you to arch your hips in a way to press yourself harder against Henry. He chuckled as his fingers began to massage your clothed clit.

“You’re already so wet, baby,” he mused.

Now you were starting to regret agreeing to this. Not because you weren’t enjoying it, but because you knew you were going to regret agreeing to being teased so much when you just wanted to feel Henry inside of you.

You whined as you felt a loss of contact. You heard Henry walk away from the bed and you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to relieve the newly built up pleasure by squeezing your thighs together. Nearly seconds later, you felt a hand roughly pull your legs open again.

“Don’t be naughty, love,” Henry told you. “You have to wait for me in order to get pleasure.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you said, pouting blindly into the darkness.

You felt his lips against yours, a slight smile on his face. “I suppose you’re right. I should’ve gone through the rules in more detail with you.”

His hand slipped under your panties and pressed against your clit. You let out a moan and rocked your hips slightly against his touch.

“Rule number one, stay still,” he started, pushing your hips back down onto the bed. “Do not move unless I tell you. Rule number two, no pleasuring yourself. That defeats the whole purpose of me teasing you.”

You could barley comprehend what he was saying as his fingers travelled further down. Two of them slipped into your wet opening, causing you to gasp. He pushed them in as far as they could go before pulling them back out immediately.

“Rule number three,” he said, “do as I say. Open up, princess.”

You opened your mouth and felt the two fingers he had just slipped inside of you press against your tongue. You closed your mouth and sucked his fingers clean, earning you a groan in response.

He roughly pulled your panties off and you heard the familiar sound of your vibrator start up. The feeling of vibrations against your already sensitive clit brought a string of profanities from your mouth. You pulled against the ties that bound you, although you were unsure as to what you were going to do if you were able to free yourself.

Despite what the first rule was, your back arched and your hips moved almost as a reflex to the waves of pleasure that were rippling through your body. He wasn’t punishing you for it, though. Although you couldn’t see hi, you could almost feel the enjoyment he was getting from your writhing.

Your body had grown so used to getting a quick pleasure at times of desperation from your vibrator that you could feel an orgasm coming already. You tried your best to hold it down, but you were already so turned on that you knew that wasn’t going to be an option.

“Fuck, Henry, I’m gonna cum already,” you breathed.

“Already, love? That didn’t take long at all.” You felt his lips against your neck, the vibrator still pushing down on your sensitive clit, and his hot breath against your ear as he said, “Cum for me, baby.”

That alone was enough to send you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you let out a cry of pleasure as your entire body shook and trembled. Henry kissed and nipped at your neck, even taking your ear between his teeth in a way that he knew drove you insane.

You thought he would take the vibrator away from your after you had came, and that maybe he’d finally start fucking you, but to your surprise he still pushed the vibrating toy hard against you, causing you to continue your shivering of pleasure. For a moment, it felt so good that you thought you were going to cum again already, until the pleasure was replaced with an overwhelming feeling of overstimulation.

“I already came, Hen,” you said. “Aren’t you going to fuck me now?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I kind of like seeing you trembling like this. Maybe I just tease you for a little longer with this dirty toy of yours.”

You tried to move your hips away from the vibrator, but every move you made Henry would follow. While you liked this idea of him over teasing you before fucking you, your clit was starting to ache from overstimulation and your trembles were starting to cause some pain in your bound arms. You could feel tears welling in your eyes and you weren’t sure if they were good or bad ones.

“Stop,” you breathed, trying to move his hand away from you with your thighs. “Fuck, stop Hen. It’s too much...avocado!”

The word pulled Henry from this dominating role and he immediately removed the vibrator from you. You nearly sobbed with relief as your felt your clit throbbing.

“Fuck,” you heard Henry say as he moved away from the bed for just a moment. You felt the bed dip next to you and his hands working to pull you free from your bindings. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“It’s okay,” you said, pulling the blindfold off the moment your hands were free. “You didn’t know. But...you’ll definitely have to give me a while before we have sex.”

Henry nodded and retreated to the bathroom inside of your bedroom. You looked down at your poor clit, all swollen and red, and cringed to yourself. You had never been given such pleasure before that resulted in you becoming so overstimulated. You weren’t angry or upset with Henry for it, it’s not like either of you knew how your body would react the way it did so quickly, but you knew he was going to be upset with himself due to this.

He returned from the bathroom and passed you a cold cloth. You placed the cloth against your core, nearly sighing as the cold liquid cooled the area.

Henry climbed onto the bed next to you and pulled you into his arms. He was much gentler with you this time, running his hands up and down your arms and kissing your forehead every so often.

“I’m sorry, love,” he repeated, kissing you once more.

“I told you it’s okay,” you assured him. “You didn’t know, Henry. Please don’t be upset over this.”

He sighed. You moved your head to look up at him. “Where did this idea come from, anyways?”

He shrugged in response. “I really don’t know. It was just something I wanted to do. I wanted to try something new and see how it went. Bad idea, obviously.”

“It was a hot idea,” you corrected him. “Just, next time, we skip the teasing and go right to the sex.”

Henry smiled and chuckled. “Okay, deal.”

You both laid together for some time. The ache between your legs dulled until it was non-existent. You got up to discard of the cloth and sat yourself on Henry’s lap when you got back to the bed.

“Where were we?”

Henry smiled, but shook his head. “I think you should rest yourself before we continue.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “But I feel okay now.”

“I know, but I still feel bad and would rather know for sure you’re not in pain while we have sex.”

You gave him a playful look, but you appreciated that he was respecting your boundaries and what your body needed.

You rolled back onto the bed next to him and cuddled into his side. You spent the next hour or so just talking for a while, before Henry offered to get up and make the two of you something to eat.

It wasn’t where you expected the evening to go, but regardless, you couldn’t be happier with how things had ended.

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part four

summary: friends who fool around almost never works. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: idiots, that’s all <3

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four (6.7k), part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: my favorite part by mac miller, addicted by jorja smith, someone to spend time with by los retros

note: finally got myself to update this fic oml zzz quick psa tho, this will now be a six-part series! hope that’s okay and yenno as always, would love to hear what you think about this (validate me in the tags pls im lonely) happy reading babes! <3

“Yo, grandma. Haven’t you had too much tea to drink?” his voice echoes in the room as soon as he walks into it. You carefully set the cup down on the dining table and looked at him exasperatedly. 

“Haven’t you had too much care to give?” you snark back, earning yourself a disappointed look from him. 

“Really, y/n? That’s the best you’ve got?” he shakes his head at your appalling retort.  What a shame.

You were good at pissing him off to be fair. You just weren’t in the mood to throw teases back and forth especially now that you’re feeling particularly vulnerable.

The week has been far too dreadful for you and you know that you’re willing to grovel your way into the weekend to finally have the time to slack off, not worry about taking a bath, and just go crazy with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

However, just like always, Mathew seems to never run out of ways to get on your nerves. 

He carelessly puts his stuff on the table, causing a fairly loud thud on the surface. 

You let out a deep breath, massaging your temple. 

“Somebody’s cranky.” he grins. Not necessarily the kind you’d want to see from him. 

You try to ignore him for a few minutes but you can’t help noticing how his build easily took over much of the space you’ve already been occupying. You irkingly look up at him, closing the book you were reading. You meet Mat’s eyes who just innocently looked back into yours. Waiting. Possibly plotting on yet another sophisticated way to toy with you.

“You’re a child.” you roll your eyes and return to your reading. He says nothing and instead rests his chin atop his enclasped hands, continuing to bother you with his ridiculously beguiling eyes. He presses his lips together before sighing dramatically. 

“What?” you snap, finally shutting your book down as you look at him. 

“I wanna go out.” he looks up at you in an effort to make his huge physique smaller than it really was. 

“Then go out. You’re a big boy.” you breathe. 

“You just said that I’m a child.” he coos, mimicking a five-year-old’s voice. 

“Stop that.” you glare at him. Mat props himself back and laughs, “Come on. I’m bored.” 

You open your book again just as you reply in a tone that Mat’s getting used to hearing. “Boredom doesn’t give you the right to pester me, Barzal.” 

And as an exchange, he speaks in the same tone rather mockingly, “And so is that attitude, Y/L/N.” 

“Come on, y/n. Let’s go out.” he now pleads, looking up at you with what seems to be his worst impression of a ‘puppy eye’.

“Fine.” you finally concede and you see Mat’s beaming smile instantly. 

“Where’d you want to go?” you ask as you take your reading glasses off.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, obviously teasing. 

On the edge of being irritated, you say, “Are you kidding me?”

“Grandma.” he mumbles before saying, “Do you have anything you want to do? And please don’t say book hunt.”

You suppress a smile and maintain your composure. “I’m craving for pancakes right now but I also wanna drink. Go to a bar or something.”

He nods in agreement. Already stitching his game plan.

“We can do both.”  he bobs his all too fine brows.

He didn’t have a hard time getting you on board with his spontaneity. You actually haven’t gone out in a while and the thought of a possible night out doesn’t seem to be so bad of an idea.

You’ve been with Mat to parties and while the two of you don’t mingle as much as the other guys did, he does know his way around the club. The dance floor, however, he tries. He really does.

For about an hour Mathew waited patiently in the living room as he scrolled endlessly on instagram liking a few photos and laughing at posts the fans tag him occasionally. His eyes were peeled away from the screen when he heard the door to your room click. His irises trail onto your body even if he didn’t plan to originally. 

Mathew, albeit dressed simply in his black turtleneck sweater and a beige overcoat exudes just about the right ‘swag’ (as per how he puts it) to stop you in your stupor. Although what you didn’t know was how you weren’t any different in his eyes. You were dressed quite nicely in a black lace bodysuit with a pair of blackpants accentuated by the black boots you usually wear on a night out. Your coat was slung on your forearm whilst you held your clutch purse in your hand so you could close the door with the other. 

“What?” you blink just as you look down to eye yourself. Feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

Mat immediately breaks it off. He clears his throat, pretending to wipe off the non-existent dust on the accent table. 

“What?” he mirrors with an arched brow.

You shrug off his demeanor, snatching your keys from the accent table before putting it in your purse. 

“Have you called a lyft already?” he nods, absentmindedly scratching his temple. 

“You ready? You look— decent.” He says, trying to act casual and distant when he gives you the compliment.

Not noticing the unfamiliar look his eyes had, you return the compliment and say,  “And so do you. Good job for not looking like you came straight out of an H&M catalogue.” you wink at him with a grin. A thing which was then reciprocated by a deadpan look on his end. 

Before he could even come up with yet another clever way to come at you, you start walking towards the door, looking at him once as you motion the way by curling your finger.

“Haul ass, buddy.”

𖥸

10:15 PM 

Mat decided to bring you to the usual place he goes to when he wants to be alone and just enjoy a couple of beers while he chats with River, the bartender he eventually befriends after years spent drinking in solitude. 

The bar had a rustic feel filled with wine barrels in the corner of the room. The seats were leather (mind you, it wasn’t the kind that gets easily worn out through time) and everything looked new to you regardless of all the vintage stuff displayed articulately on the brick wall. A turntable was set on the table stacked with vinyl records, most of which were from the 70s to 80s underneath.

It was obvious that it wasn’t the kind people would know about. Aside from it being located at such a secluded street leading to the suburbs, it wasn’t the type of bar kids would want to hang out in. It only had a few customers and most of them wore suits and came with company. No one really gave a hoot when you walked in with Mathew, aka, the face of the New York Islanders. Which is basically the reason why Mat kept coming back to the place. He felt comfortable and at peace. Almost in retrospect to being at home hanging with his father. 

“I can’t believe this place exists.” you say, mouthing your thanks to River as he hands you both of your drinks. The man that’s definitely aged like fine wine smiles, nodding his head over to Mat who was doing the same before he headed back to mix another set of drinks. 

“Me neither.” he grins, reminiscing about the time he’s found the small pub by accident. 

“This place looks expensive though.” you whisper, making Mathew laugh. 

“Well, it kinda is.” he sheepishly chuckles. “River’s filthy rich.”

“Is he really?” your mouth falls and you look back over the build of the old man. The way his salt and pepper hair was neatly slicked back makes quite a compelling case for what Mat had just said. 

Mat eventually explains who he was. Apparently, he was just another bored fancy man who happened to love making people drop dead and drunk with his over the top mixes. His dark deep set brown eyes are quite of a crowd favourite too. Case in point, the group of ladies seated from across you and Mathew.

“Hey.” you absentmindedly call on Mat who had just sipped on his drink. “I know what we should do.”

“All right.” he puts the glass down, “Lay it on me.”

“Let’s fix you up with one of the girls over there.” you suggest, leaning towards his body so you could get a better view upfront. Mat does not move and instead follows your finger subtly pointing at the other end of the room.

“What’s with the sudden fixation of getting me bagged tonight, huh?” he smirks, shaking his head at the idea of having to go home with some random girl. You give him a side eye as you move away from him. 

“Fixation is an overstatement. We’ll be here long enough for us to get sick of each other.” you explicitly told him. 

Mat eyes you intently. Searching if there was even the slightest doubt in your eyes. 

Long enough to get sick of each other. 

He clears his throat instead and looks across the room. “Which one?”

A gleeful cheer erupts from you just before you look over the girls in question. “What’s your type?” you ask him, not sparing a glance.

Mat looks down on you underneath the bar lights accentuating your features. Your eyes had a certain glint in them that Mat still can’t get a grasp on. Something that was just enough to spark something inside him. He didn’t want to overthink it nonetheless. It must have been just the lights. 

Once Mat sensed that you were about to look at him he immediately turned his gaze forward, squinting his eyes a little pretending to check out the women you’ve been eyeing for the last minute. 

“I don’t really have a type.” he shrugs, casually taking the fragile glass to his mouth. 

You dismiss what he said at once, “Do I look like a child to you? Just answer it.”

Mat shakes his head, “I told you. I don’t have one. If we vibe then we vibe. Simple as that.” 

You did not believe him but you decide to drop it off. Instead, you look back and return to your new found mission. Across the bar, seated were three girls busy talking to each other. 

“Got it.” you tell Mat, nodding your head towards the clueless girl sitting right across from where Mathew was. “The one in the center.” you add. “The one wearing a white bodycon.”

“She’s pretty.” he nods, validating your taste as his potential wingman. “Nice smile.”

Your hand met a firm slap on the table as you went on cheering for him. “Well? Go then!” you give him a nudge, taking it back quickly when you feel a slight hesitation on his part, “Don’t tell me you need me to introduce you?”

He takes the remainder of his glass and shaked off the kick it had in his throat. “You just sit and watch, babe.”

You do as you’re told and lean towards the bar, your elbow carrying all your weight whilst you sip on your half-full martini. 

Mathew’s stance and the way he carries himself immediately caused the girls to notice him coming. Of course, you weren’t really surprised. You watch him approach her,– reading along the words leaving his mouth. There was an exchange of proper ‘hello’s’ as Mat introduced himself to the girls. He reaches out his hand and the curly noirette in the center gives him a firm shake. 

Mat’s eyes momentarily locked with yours just as you see their hands linger in the air— tangled long enough for him to make a quick segway. He winks your way as he sees you grin from your seat, shaking your head just after you felt the need to take a deep breath. A thing you assumed to be because of the drink. So, while Mat leads the girl to one of the empty booths and sits across from her, you call on River and ask for another drink. 

Mathew must have lost track of time by the second drink he shared with Zoe. He learns that she’s from upstate and was just on the island to visit her friends. She’s still working on her major at NYU; coincidentally in the same field as Lianna so that was one of the things they’ve talked about first hand. She wasn’t really into sports so Mat steered clear of his job because he didn’t want to bore her. 

“So…” Zoe smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s the deal with you and the girl you’re with?” 

By the time she asked about you, only then did Mat remember who he was originally with. 

“Oh! She’s—” he looks over to where you’re seated only to find you laughing— no giggling with a man that was obviously a few years older than you. He’s wearing a neat black suit and a button down shirt with a couple of its first buttons opened. Zoe sees him frown, evidently losing his train of thought. 

She calls him with her sweet voice, “Mat?” 

“Yeah?” he absentmindedly answers, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand that was now gently pushing the man’s arm whilst the two of you continue to burst into laughter. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

What’s so funny? 

Finally, Mat hears Zoe’s distant voice that eventually took him back to his seat.

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” he apologetically smiles. “Sorry. What were you saying again?” 

She hesitates to ask about you after taking a quick glance your way upon seeing the way Mathew looked at you. Nevertheless, she decides to go for it.

“Aren’t you two together? I don’t want to come off strong here or anything. It’s just that I don’t want to get in between something if there ever is.” 

Mat looks at you one more time and as if you’ve felt his eyes all along you turn your way and meet his gaze. You shoot him a quiet smile, eyeing the guy sitting beside you, mouthing what he assumes to be an exaggerated “So hot!” on your end. He reciprocates your smile and gives you an approving nod.

Once you looked away, that’s the only time Mat finally answered the woman waiting patiently for his attention. 

“What?” Mat shakes his head wildly, blowing out air off his lips defensively. “No no no. We’re just friends. She’s my roommate actually.” he shrugs you off his mind and instead tries to put his entire focus on her. 

The remaining hours were spent with you and Mat getting along with your respective potential hook-ups. Not that it wasn’t the endgame either of you were hoping for at the back of your minds. 

He’s got to admit that Zoe was the kind of girl he’d be interested in. Another fact he’s kept a mental tab not to mention to you because he knows you’ll just get cocky. 

She was sweet and obviously eloquent. He knows she’s way smarter than he’ll ever be. But out of all those qualities, she was just as passionate at her craft as someone he likes to think he knows well enough. And that alone made a small smile creep on his lips. 

Nonetheless, despite all the aforementioned, Mathew found himself a bit more reserved than he usually is whenever he gets to meet and talk to his potential ‘lady friends’ as how you’ve put it countless times. He just wasn’t his exact self.  And he was beginning to question it. 

There were no fancy hockey plays thrown subtly into the conversation. Neither mentions of golfing nor over the top league events.  No butchered french pet names swiftly tucked in his sentences. And no endless questions that would eventually lead to something along the lines of ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

Well, not until Zoe’s friends got up their seats and she told him herself. 

“Hey. The girls and I are meeting up with some friends in Brooklyn. D’ya wanna come?” 

Mat’s eyes trail down to her hand now gently caressing his. He raises both his brows thinking of a possible ‘out’ because he wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to leave you alone with a stranger. 

He hums, “Sure.” 

Zoe shows him a delighted smile before eventually sliding out of the booth to walk towards the bar she and her friends were formally seated. 

“I gotta use the restroom first. Please excuse me.” she gives him a nod before going back to chatting with her friends. 

You, on the other hand, see Mat leave the table aiming for an archway you presume to be where the loo was. 

“Hey,” you call the man whose name you’ve already forgotten. Your pause was long enough for him to acknowledge the chances that you actually did forget who he was. Obviously.

“Chris.” The man in his early 30s answers with a submitting grin. 

You shyly laugh, squeezing his forearm as you try to apologize for forgetting. 

“Would you mind if I use the restroom?” you politely ask. 

“No, not at all.” he replies and immediately stands to help you get on your feet. Gentleman. 

Once you are in front of the men’s room, you anxiously wait for your wingman. You hug your purse close to your chest. Not a whole minute after, the door finally opens and you meet Mat’s irises with quite a gleeful look. 

A look he wasn’t a fan of for he knew what’s about to come next. 

“Are you taking off?” you eagerly ask, almost hopping on your feet. 

Mat eyes you from head to toe, looking for signs that would stink from a drunk y/n. When he sees none, that’s when he decides to say that he was. 

“Mkay good. I’ll be on my way too. Chris is taking me to New Jersey.” you tell him, briefly looking through the archway to see if there were people listening.

Once you know you’re clear, you lean towards Mat, your lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his ear. Mat feels your heated breath sending a familiar tingle up his spine. “I’ll get to ride a yacht tonight.” you bite your lower lip and giddily smile as if you were a cheeky 16 year-old usually depicted in a coming of age movie. 

“Who’s Chris?” Mat, in spite of taking rounds observing you all night, finds the need to ask. “And why are you coming with him to NJ?” he further questions. 

“Uh– okay, dad.” you step back for a second. You let out a scoff, checking if he was being serious about it. “I thought we’re supposed to go get laid tonight? Weren’t you about to take off with that girl yourself?” 

Mat averts your gaze and starts to scratch the corner of his brow. “Well yeah. It’s just that— he looks sketchy.” he pauses, “plus… isn’t he a little too old for you?” 

You roll your eyes as you’ve already expected to hear the words from him. 

“He’s 31. He’s not that old.” you say rather defensively so you turn the ball back on his court. “And what if he was?  Didn’t you ask one of the moms out??”

Mat’s eyes widens and you try to bite back a laugh. He whispers with a biting tone, trying to save himself. “She didn’t look like one! I’m gonna kill Beau I swear to god.”

“Come on Barz. Don’t be such a killjoy. Text me if you need anything, okay? Wrap things up while you’re at it.” you say at once. Mat doesn’t get the chance to talk you out of such a stupid idea because before he even could, you’ve already planted a kiss on his cheek and started walking away. 

Mat waited for the sound of the heavy doors of the bar, signaling that you and your friend have gone, before stepping back to where Zoe was. She waves him near the coat closet. 

“Hi.” Mat greets her friends before eventually turning his attention on the unsuspecting lass. She meets her with a smile (just like what she’s been doing all night). The same smile, however, drops the second Mat opens his mouth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 

Zoe nods and willfully abides, letting Mat take her gently by the arm. 

“What’s up?” she innocently asks. 

“Something came up.” he says a little too fast than what he’d originally intended. He was going to let her down either way might as well get it over with and rip up the asshole band-aid. 

“Oh.” she says in a tone Mat knew that she completely understood. 

“No worries.” she looks at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll see you around then.” 

He gives her a kind smile and nods. “Take care.” 

Mathew walks towards the bar, catching River’s teasing grin whilst he cleans up after the bottles left on the center of the counter. 

“What?” Mat reacts defensively, taking a seat in front of the lone bartender. River faintly shakes his head to leave just enough curiosity in Mathew’s mind. 

“You’re such a tool, old man.” the kid says aiming for the cold beer River has put away for himself. River did not mind because he’s grown fond of the star player for the past years he’s spent going on late night drinks at his bar. Years that even justifies a proper amount of time for him to know the in’s and out’s of one Mathew Barzal. 

“I haven’t said a thing.” he shrugs amidst the already wide grin on his face. 

There’s wisdom in his eyes that Mathew has always admired. He wasn’t the guy who’d want to talk about what’s going on inside his head but with how River’s pub seems to be just the right place, he eventually concedes and takes a shot to pick on the old man’s brain.

“Come on, spill it out. I know you’re going to anyway.” Mat gives in, running his thumb on the moist label of the bottle. 

River wipes his hands before resting it atop the counter. “Well, it’s just that– I ain’t used to seeing you turn down ladies like that too often. And you’re definitely not one to stick around watching me clean up.”

Mat stays silent for a moment, as if to gather the exact reason as to why he chose to stay. He still has a long way to go before figuring that one out. He wasn’t exactly as sharp as he was on the ice.

“I don’t know, man.” he chuckles tirelessly, “I guess I wasn’t in the mood. That’s all.”

“You?” River shots a brow and dismisses him, shaking his head. When Mat doesn’t answer, he carefully picks on his choice of words and lays it down carefully for him. After all, Mathew should have known that River was old enough to not know what’s going on.

“Though I gotta be honest with you, hijo. Never imagined you’d bring someone here.” he starts. 

What must have been a shot in the dark for the old man was just enough to tear Mathew’s eyes away from staring at the water beads on the bottle.

“What?”

“The girl, Barz.” he says, banging on the head of the bottle to knock the cap off. “She a friend?” 

“What? Y/N?” Mat quirks his brows trailing off where River was exactly headed, “What about her?— Oh, her? Yeah, no. She’s just a friend.”

“She pretty.” he speaks in a sound accent, not wanting to let Mat know he’s growing to like catching the young lad off guard. Mathew nods casually despite the continuous blabbering. “She’s y/n. But yeah— I guess, she is pretty.” 

“Then what are you doing being just friends with a pretty girl?” River inquires, taking a sip of his beer. When he sees him trying to register what he’d just said he then adds, “Why not be with her? Date her?”

“Psh. What? Date y/n? That’s crazy.” Mat shakes his head furiously, “You’re crazy.” 

“What’s so crazy about that?” River takes offense, laughing at the child’s naivete. 

“I can’t date her. I mean— I won’t date her.” he takes the bottle to his mouth, taking a large gulp before continuing, “We’re in this weird relationship thing. A setup, actually, and it’s— it’s crazier than dating her. I swear, you of all people won’t get it.” 

“What makes you think I can’t?” he smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of crazy.” River points out despite the hesitation in Mat’s eyes. “I got all night, kid.” he adds, letting him have the floor to himself. 

“You really want in on this?” he second guesses, not wanting to bore the man with his personal life.

River leans against the brass counter just below the lit rack of vintage scotch displayed on the bar. He then gestures him to give a piece of his mind and Mat finally submits to his offer.

“We’ve been in a few… prior engagements,” he starts trying to find the appropriate word. “Well, sort of.”

River hums, not necessarily getting on the same page as him so he decides to be upfront about it.

“We’ve… slept together.” he confesses.

“So you used to date her?” the old man asks. 

“No.” he answers, “I told you we’re just friends.” 

With furrowed brows, River takes a minute. And once Mat hears an all too familiar “Oh.” he sees him break a chuckle, shaking his head at the thought of what Mat had just told him. “You kids have way too much fun these days.”

Mathew shrugs, “Hey, I warned you. Told you you wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay, make me understand something here. You two sleep together, fool around, do all that shit.” he says, “and you swear you’re not in a relationship?”

“Nope.” Mat answers with pride, popping out the word with a hard ‘p’.

“Huh.” River clicks his tongue, “How long have you two been… engaged?” 

He rolls his eyes when River uses his word, “About two months.” he answers shortly.

“Is she seeing anyone since you two started this thing? You know, casual dates, the ones I presume she’s been getting before you got her into this mess?” he asks him in a tone that only fathers would ever dare to use.

Mat thinks for a moment, trying to recall the last time he’s seen a guy pick you up for dinner besides the old man you’ve successfully bagged for the night. He firmly shakes his head no and simply says, “At least not in my recollection.”

River willfully nods, walking Mat right into the trap. “Well have you been seeing anyone lately?” he asks again, this time slipping a hint of assertion. He hears a crystal clear ‘no’ from the forward and that’s when he broke a goading grin. 

“And you’re telling me you two aren’t together?” he asks yet again, getting on Mat's nerves as he continues to flood him with biting queries, building up the final point he was about to break on Mathew.

“Rivs, for the hundredth time, no. We are not.” he clarifies. 

Mat watches River pour himself a glass of scotch, still wearing a smug grin. “Imma give you a piece of advice, yeah?” he smiles rather teasingly and doesn’t wait for Mat to rebut, “I’m a happily married man so I don’t know a single squat about dating nowadays, but if you’re telling me that you kids aren’t sleeping with anyone else but yourselves? Looks like a damn relationship to me.”

With his brows all quirked in confusion (and denial in the very least), Mathew gathers all his might just so he could refute whatever madness River was trying to inflict on him and screw him up in the head. But before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the heavy doors was all it took to tear up both River’s and Mat’s attention.

“Hi.” you say the moment you were welcomed by unsuspecting men talking by the bar. River acknowledges you by raising his drink, his gaze landing on Mat the moment yours did. 

“Hi.” Mathew mirrors you in an attempt to drown his already racing heart. A smile impending to break loose at any moment but he manages to suppress it. Instead of dealing with his adrenaline, he gestures for you to take a seat beside him. 

“Where’s the sugar daddy?” he laughs the moment you drag yourself from across the room, mocking every word he said. 

“His wife called when I got into his car.” you cringe.

“Oof. Lovely.” Mat makes the distinct expression on his face just before the two of you share a laugh.

“He’s not very smooth with adultery. He needs more practice.” you casually state sarcastically, clicking your tongue. 

As you find the narrative funny, you take a sip on Mathew’s beer. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been drinking way too much the entire night.”

“Well. I’ve got some things to think about—” he cuts himself off upon seeing your mouth ajar, “And no, you’re not allowed to ask because none of it concerns you.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” you dismiss him, excusing yourself to River which he gladly took as his cue to leave.

When he disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your gaze on your friend wearing another one of your mischievous grins, “Hey, wanna get pancakes?” 

“Y/N, it’s almost 3 AM.” Mat sighs, the tiring night starting to creep up to him. 

“So?” you question, swatting his hand away when you catch him checking on his watch. 

“Come on. Stop drinking that.” you insist and take the bottle from his hand before putting it over to the side. 

The two of you said your goodbyes to the lone bartender who was just starting to clean up again. River gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgement before landing a knowing look on Mathew. One that he’s thankful enough not to be discerned by you. 

As you walk alongside Mathew, he unconsciously places a hand on the small of your back— feeling it graze on the fabric of your coat as if to guide you towards the door in an almost romantic type of way. Perhaps, a way someone would behave if they were actually in a relationship. 

Mat notices your body tense but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his hand travels to the curve of your waist just as he leads you through the brass doors.

Once you’re out on the streets, he lets go.

𖥸

After almost half an hour of fighting over which diner is better to eat and get sober at, you and Mat decide to just try the new diner three blocks from your apartment. Being that it was an ungodly hour, the diner was good as closed when you got in. There were a few people inside and besides the student studying alone in the corner booth, the people lounging in the vacant seats were mostly just staff. Too bad they had to work the grave shift.

Mathew, who was rather preoccupied digging in his breakfast platter, gets interrupted when you call his attention. 

“So tell me,” you ask as you take a forkful of syrupy pancake into your mouth. Finally satisfying your cravings. You put the food modestly in the insides of your cheeks when you ask him a question, “What are you like on dates?” 

Mat disgustingly looks at you. You easily get what such a look meant and you immediately roll your eyes. You let your hand fall in mid-air amidst still holding a fork in it to prove a point. “I’m not trying to ask you out, dumbass. Don’t be so delusional.”

He puts his silverware down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Why the sudden interest?” 

“Just curious.” you simply say.

He hums, thinking about how he pulls off a first date. He then clears his throat as he takes you down that road. “First, I’m not bringing her to a 24/7 Diner.” you nearly gag. “She deserves a formal one just in case there won’t be a second date.” he explains. 

You sit there, nodding your head every now and then as he further goes on the details of how he’s like on a date. “Of course, I’d put my best foot forward all the time. Talk about her stuff more than mine and make sure she has a good time.” 

“Have you ever had a bad first date?” you curiously ask. To which he only answers with a stubborn look on his face, the one only Mat Barzal could pull off. “What? me? I don’t do bad first dates.”

“Oh, fuck off.” you flick his forehead as you laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, drowning all the existing noise inside the lone diner.

But as the laughter dies down, Mat catches your eyes as soon as it falls on his. And just like that, there it was again, the exact same glint it had back in the bar. This time, illuminated by the pink shaded light lining up the wall accents of the diner. 

When he realizes that he’s been staring for too long, he settles on turning the tables on you. 

“How about you?” he props in his seat, “What are you like on dates?”

“You know, apart from the fact that you’re obviously into old men.” he snickers and you throw a curly fry on his forehead.

“Excuse me, I don’t.” you say sticking up for yourself.

Mat takes the curly fry that has fallen on his plate and proceeds to eat it. “Sure you do.” 

You roll your eyes, finding it hard to suppress the fact that you might actually do. “There’s a reason why women like old men, chico.”

He leans back and answers with a level headed and quite teasing reply, “And why’s that?”

“Because they’re men.” you look at him with a jerky grin as you continue, “And men, especially of River’s kind, definitely knows how to eat his french fry.”

Mat’s mouth falls wide in disbelief, appalled that you’ve actually found a way to pick up a stone and throw it straight to his face just to rub more salt on the fact that you had to teach a 23-year-old grown man how to eat cunt.

 “You’re an ass.” he says, rolling his eyes. You let out a laugh and shake your head. You were proud of yourself, sure; but showing just that is far too much for a boy’s already hurting ego. Who would have known humbling this man was such a task. 

“I’m playing! You know how to now.” you tell him, “Thanks to me, of course.”

He scoffs and takes a bite off his pancakes, “Cocky.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question.” he reminds you whilst he wipes off his lips with a napkin. 

“There’s not much to tell. You know I’m not high maintenance.” you tell him, ignoring the fact that you haven’t been on an actual date for so long you’re almost sure you’ve forgotten how to be in one. 

“I know it’s cheesy and corny but I do think it’s still in the littlest things, you know?” you sigh. Trying to remember the last relationship (date even) you had wherein those little things, the ones that are merely the bare minimum, were actually given to you. 

“You know, it’s not much, really. Maybe just a good talk without having to watch him watch me talk all night when he’s really thinking about how I’d look naked, you know what I mean?” you laugh it off, “I know, it’s stupid.”

The arrogant man sitting before you was silent for once, profusely wanting to wash the pool of melancholy he sees in your eyes. There must have been a shit ton of guys who overlooked how great of a woman you actually are just because they couldn’t stop thinking with the head in between their legs even just for a second. 

Mathew knows. And he hates that he’s been ‘that’ guy at some point. Probably until now considering him thinking with his balls on was the very thing that got the two of you here in the first place.

You take a deep breath, smiling. “Anyway, that’s better than almost getting with a married man. Right?”

“Right.” Mat laughs, his gray eyes bright under all the lights as he plays with his silverware,— devoid of how much he looked like as if he was utterly and undeniably in awe of not just the energy of the woman sitting in front of him alone nor the fact that she was by far the most unbelievable woman he’s known, but most importantly, he’s yet to realize how much in deep he’s beginning to be for the woman she actually were. 

Just as she is. 

𖥸

You left the diner a good hour before the sunrise and what must have been a quick five minute drive if you had only taken a cab, became a twenty minute foot race between you and Mathew.

You knew that walking was a bad idea but somehow, Mat’s charm and persuasive antics had a better hold than you thought you had on your very capable cognition. 

As you drag your feet into the confines of the elevator in your complex, you hear Mathew chuckling behind you with a firm hand securely placed on your waist supporting your balance. 

“You know— and not just ‘cause I’m an athlete, can I just say that you’re in a very bad shape?” he says almost a whisper in your ear, his voice low and deep.

You roll your eyes, leaning on the steel cold mirror once he pulls away, “You do it in heels then tell me who’s in a bad shape.” 

“Fair point.” he chuckles yet again, shying away. He presses the number for your floor before resting across from you. As Mat watches you catch your breath, he jokes in the hopes of breaking the ice between the two of you. 

“So…” he clicks his tongue, playful eyes looking at you, “Wanna tap?”

Disgusted to your very core, you let out a scoff just as you shake your head. “You’re fucking sick.” you laugh upon meeting his dumb grinning face. Seconds into laughter, Mat’s silence kills off the humor. The two of you exchange glances, the smiles on your faces receding into quietude. 

Mathew didn’t want to end the night letting you in the apartment not knowing what he’s been feeling the moment you’ve let him drag you out for an impromptu night out. And stupid as it was, the only thing he could think of was to slide his foot across the enclosed space embracing the two of you, nudging on your boot. You on the one hand were rather puzzled as to what caused such language. You send him a mental query by arching a brow. He lets his head fall back on the cold metal surrounding the elevator finally deciding to speak his truth.

 “I’m glad we get to hang out now. You know, just like friends do.” he genuinely says. 

“Me too.” you say, smiling. “I really had fun tonight. Thank you.”

As you meet his eyes, you see a glimmer of softness in his gaze. 

“Good thing I got bored, eh?” he says with a smirk. 

“Good thing I came back for you.” you reply.

A quiet smile parts from his lips.

“Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

It was a few seconds when you and Barzy parted from your respective walls to meet the sliding doors as it opened on your designated floor. You were pulling him closer by the tie of his coat whilst his hand was instinctively placed on your hips letting him press his body on you. Your faces were inches from each other’s, evident of not wanting to prolong the totally unplanned foreplay that’s about to go down in a communal lift. 

But just like every film you’ve watched your whole life, the inevitable cliché befalls the two of you when the next words that filled the enclosed walls you’re currently caged in came from the man who has yet to miss a morning jog. 

“What the hell is going on here?”

[free-pool-trash]

Okay, can I requests all free! boys (maybe add for albert and kaede too) with s/o who is youtuber (they s/o is pretty famous though) and what kinds of video would they like to do together. I love your writing and tq for it and don't forget to stay safe🥰🥰

Hey lovely! 💕 i love this request so imma pump it out rn (hey Free! queens haven’t seen yall in a while, how we doing? 😎)

Im just gonna do for style 5 + Albert and Kaede for now but let me know if you want the rest 😉

This is actually something I’ve thought about a lot so lets get into it 🤩

Did i proof read this? No ❤️

Haru:

He’s that boyfriend who supports you in everything you’re doing while simultaneously having absolutely no clue what you’re doing

For example; vlogging absolutely boggled his mind at first

“Who are you talking to?”

“Oh I’m just vlogging, do you wanna say hi?”

“Vlogging?”

“Yes, say hi.”

“BuT tO wHo?”

After a while he gets used to it though

“You’re vlogging? Hey guys.”

You have to beg him to be in videos otherwise he won’t do it

When he does though it’s usually a good old “How well do we know each other challenge” and sometimes you can even manage to rope him into one of those “picking each others clothes” videos

He’ll make appearances in vlogs though

Actually quite likes holding the camera

He ends up seeing fans in public and when they come up to him he’s like “👁👄👁 how do you know who i am?” But after the initial shock he’s really nice to them

Will facetime you so they can say hi

Absolutely 100% gains a fanbase of his own

All the comments under your videos with him are the funniest things ever with some gems such as:

“Haru really said 😐(😍🥰)😐”

“POV: ur the camera seeing Haru actually smiling ❤️👄❤️”

“#saveharu”

Makoto:

Supportive king!!!

Hands down your number one fan

He’s always offering to help you with your videos

Is always down with being in videos with you

His favourite thing is making videos like story times and doing gaming videos with you

Which are usually pretty chaotic and funny

The gaming videos provide your subs with a lot of cute y/n-makoto content

“Babe I suck at this”

“No you don’t, you’re the best” he says it really quietly while smashing buttons and taking his game very seriously

Vlogs are the best too, he talks to the camera like he’s on a FaceTime

“Oh! Hey guys, how are you all doing? I hope you’re doing good.”

Your fans love him

You’ve earned the “mom and dad” title

Since they love him so much you often let him take over daily vlogs

“Hey guys. Y/n isn’t feeling great today so you’re stuck with me!”

The comment section:

“Hi dad 🥺😭”

“Imagine having a boyfriend who loves u enough to literally do your job for you when you’re sick 😭😭😭😭”

“Whose gonna tell y/n that her boyfriend contemplated bringing home like 5 different cats 😳”

Everyone wants you to give him an e-boy transformation

You’re still trying to convince him

Rei:

I think he’d really enjoy doing videos with you

Not camera shy at all

The man has a lot to say

His partner has a beautiful online presence and he’s super proud of you!

He’d love making videos that have a little bit of competitiveness to them

Loves a challenge

Playing boyfriend tags with him is stressful af because he has the date of everything you’ve ever done memorised

Absolutely BODIES the swapping clothes for a day videos

He’s a really good sport and your fans really like him

“Rei looks better in a skirt than I do, you guys...”

“I simply can’t help my calf muscles, my love.”

Not great with vlogging

The comments you get:

“Rei when the vlog camera comes out in the mall 🙈 i do not see🙈”

“I wanna see them wear matching outfits 👀”

“Y/n please ask Rei to start up a studying channel 😭”

You actually rope him into making a study tips video with you

To be fair he does most of the talking and you just listen and look at him like 🤩🥰

He loves interacting with fans

He’s always liking and commenting on fan edits of you on Instagram

Nagisa:

Jenna and Julien. Jenna and Julien. Jenna and Julien. Jenna and Julien.

Most chaotic baby on camera

Craft! Videos!

Also chaotic challenges

King of gaming videos

He also is willing to let you put make up on him

“Nagisa, I’m begging you, please sit still.”

Absolutely does not sit still but gives you a lil kiss

He’s so sweet on and off camera

Most of your vlog content is just him doing golden retriever boy stuff

Your audience adore him

Videos come up in your suggestions and they’re all like, “Nagisa being chaotic for ten minutes straight”, “Y/n trying to get Nagisa to pay attention for 4 minutes.”

He gets so excited when your doing videos together, “Yeah guys, this is actually my channel now. I’m taking it over.”

“No he isn’t.”

“Yes I am. Sorry babe but you’re fired.”

Mr. Steal your channel

Rin:

😍😍😍 am i right?

First of all; he’s such a heart throb

Your fans are obsessed with him

He always wants you to work out with him so you decide to get some content out of it

Video gems like “Eating like my olympian Boyfriend for a week”

“RinRin, how the fuck are you even still alive?”

“It’s a salad, Y/n, not a bowl of air.”

“Who the fuck orders a salad at a restaurant, Rin?”

“I’m so sorry that you guys have to hear this profanity.” He says to the camera as if he doesn’t swear every five seconds

Those are usually the types of videos you guys make together

The comments you guys get when he’s feeling lovey in a video

“Oh to be Y/n 😓”

“Alexa, play sweater weather by the neighbourhood”

“The way he looks at her. Im in pain.”

“If they ever break up, i want you to put me down.”

Vlogging at the movies is hilarious because 99% of the time when you come out he’s crying

“Guys please stop telling Rin to take his shirt off on camera, he literally can’t say no and it’s distracting.”

Rin swimming content is highly requested

And what can you say? You give the people what they want 😌✨

Albert:

He’s into it

Once the camera comes on, this man becomes a comedic legend

“Hey guys, today we’re uh, doing something. I’m gonna be honest I don’t know, I didn’t ask. My girlfriend pulls out the camera and I do what I’m told.”

“We’re going to give you different aesthetics.”

He’s like 🤗 “oh okay go for it”

Very complient

He’s down for absolutely anything

“Content is content baby”

Sometimes he just comes into your video room and hijacks your videos

“Thought I’d pop in and say hi”

And by pop in and say hi he actually means sit beside you and look at the camera like he’s on The Office

Oh my god do the fans love this man

He trolls them

He sees comments like, “Y/n is so cute! 😍” and he’s like, “That’s why she has a boyfriend.”

They love him though and if he sees them out in public he’s super sweet

Kaede:

(Im ngl this dude kinda scares me)

Probably has to be coaxed into making videos with you

I get the impression that this man is cocky on camera

Did someone say ✨pda✨

“K, I’m making a video”

“So?”

Doesn’t really interact with fans

Or pay too much attention when he’s actually filming with you

He doesn’t really care but he does it because it makes you happy

He’s more responsive when it comes to vlogs

“I’ve convinced y/n to come to the pool with me, she doesn’t swim but she looks hot in a swimsuit. Not as good as I do, but still.”

You have to cut a lot of the stuff he says out of videos

He makes so many innuendos

✨comments✨:

“It’s the way Kaede doesn’t care about literally anything for me 🙈”

“Someone please check on Y/n, she’s TIRED 😩😓.”

[iovnyu]

aeipathy -- park sunghoon

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE 

genre: fluff (?)

warnings: cursing, tba

summary: as y/n is trying to juggle being a C student and working at a ice rink, she meets sunghoon - a figure skater with straight A’s who needs to prove his passion to his parents. they just so happened to be in each other’s lives at the right time.

a/n: hello !! welcome to the second part of this series! im sorry i took long to write this lol!! i included other members in here so just imagine they are all in the same grade please !! also please let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for this series !!

waking up to her alarm that has been ringing for the past 20 minutes, y/n randomly tapped her phone until it stopped screaming at her. after shutting it off, she found herself slowing drifting back to sleep. wait what time is it

turning over to look at her phone, she noticed the time. 8:40am. shit, i don’t have enough time to give sunghoon his book... 

after some thought, y/n decided that she would walk by the private schools to see if sunghoon is there or not. at times like this, she thanks the gods for putting the two schools close to each other so she doesn’t have to walk far.

getting up from her bed, she walked over to the restroom to get ready for school. although y/n took her time, she managed to finish before 8:55 which gives her enough time to run to school.

y/n quickly put on her shoes -- with a muffin in hand -- and said goodbye to her mom before running out the door. run y/n! run! 

running to the gates of her high school, she noticed she barely made it in time for the bell to ring for first period. y/n quickly walked with the crowd who was late to their classes and arrived to her first class of the day. she headed straight to the back of the class where her friends were seated watching her run to her seat, she already knew she was going to get scolded.

“what took you so long?” jay said as y/n grabbed a seat next to him.

niki nodded beside him, “yeah, what happened this time?”  

y/n shrugged, “woke up late, no big deal.” she said simply, trying to act like she wasn’t stressed finding her homework that was probably crammed at the very bottom of her backpack. shit, where is my homework

“here,” jungwon said, sliding his papers over to y/n, motioning to write down the answers. thanking him, she quickly jotted down the answers messily on a random piece of lined paper she found on the desk.

“what is this?” jay said, grabbing sunghoon’s math book that fell out of y/n’s backpack. “woah, a math book? park sunghoon?” he asked, confused as to why she has a random persons math book.

y/n shrugged, barely paying attention to what the others had to say about the relationship between her and the boy. “found it.” she said, simply.  

“there is no way you had just 'found it’.” niki retorted, staring at y/n skeptically -- he knew she was hiding something but decided to not ask right now.

“please quiet down, class. there are other students here that actually come to school to learn.” ms. lee, their math teacher said, eyeing them.

niki stood up, “yeah! what ms. lee said!” he stated, agreeing with the teacher. y/n pulled him back down to his seat, smacking his head, “shut up, headass.”

throughout the day, the boys kept pestering y/n about the math book and how she acquired it in the first place. they eventually got tired once they all had to go to their last period -- english. this was one subject that y/n was actually good at considering that she does not enjoy school one bit.

“wait, do we have an essay due today?” niki said, tapping y/n’s shoulder since she sat in front of him. 

“yeah. we had a whole month to do it...” y/n responded. 

“shit.” niki whispered to himself, trying to think of a good excuse as to why he does not have it on time. 

y/n just laughed, listening to what the teacher had to say to the class about the next assignment. “you guys will be paired with the person seated behind you. get to work please!” the teacher spoke, going back to their desk.

not again...

looking behind her, she was faced with niki smiling wide at her. y/n already knew that she was going to do 99% of the work and niki will most likely just put his name on it and call it a day. y/n rolled her eyes and turned back around to get started on the project while niki is already sound asleep from behind her. 

somehow, y/n found herself close to finishing the project when the bell rang. startled, y/n packed threw her stuff in her backpack and kicked niki’s leg from underneath the desk.

“dude, what the hell.”

“get up. we have to go to our next class, i am not going to be marked late again because of your ass.” y/n said, pulling niki up from his seat and ushering him out the door. 

“it’s our last class anyways!" niki whined. rolling her eyes, she tugged on his arm towards the direction to their next class, earning another whine from niki. “why do you want to see your boyfriend so bad?” 

hearing this, y/n stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to look at niki. “i will shove your tighty whities in your ass right now. me and jay are just friends.” y/n said, pointing at him. “and besides, he already made it clear that he doesn’t like me anymore.”

“who mentioned jay?” he smirked, feeling as if he won from her shocked reaction. 

“me?” jay said, appearing out of nowhere from behind y/n. “what about me?” he asked again, looking between niki and y/n. 

y/n glared at niki one last time and turned to jay, “nothing. where is jungwon?”

“probably in his seat,” jay shrugged, still confused as to why they were talking about him. 

y/n let out a puff of air and stomped into the classroom, leaving niki and jay  behind. looking over at jay, niki shook his head and followed y/n into class. jay sighed and watched other students rush into their classes, not wanting to get marked as tardy. 

making his way into class, he sat down between jungwon and y/n. “yay. history.” jay said, looking at the board. y/n laughed while jungwon reminded them that they are taking a pop quiz at the end of the period to test if they had listened or not. 

“shit. i usually sleep in this class.” niki said, sighing. 

“no, you usually sleep in every class.” jungwon retorted, looking over at him and rolling his eyes. 

“point taken.”

[shoutaaizawas]

one month anniversary event? hUH can i join?? if it’s no hassle: could i request bakugou in hunger games au! with the prompt “Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes.”? i would love to see what you do, thank you in advance 🥺💞 i love your work, binge worthy 100%. please take care! :)

im so sorry this took FOREVER ilysm your comments give me life thank you for all your support

↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → no final goodbyes

event: au prompts summary: you and bakugou are childhood enemies. when you’re picked for the annual hunger games you’re shocked when he volunteers. word count: 6,599 tags/warnings: hunger games!au, angst, like really angsty 😳, violence, blood mention, character death a/n: uhhhh i’m sorry also there was so much i wanted to put but i had to stop myself or this would have been a whole novel alternate ending

You hated Bakugou Katsuki. You had since you were kids. You grew up in District Seven next door to the Bakugou household. Ever since you could remember you were arguing with Bakugou. Your parents would laugh and say it was normal if he got on your nerves so much maybe it was because you had a crush on him.

The thought had always disgusted you. Sure, as you both got older Bakugou certainly got quite attractive and filled out. He went from a scrawny kid to a man in what felt like overnight, it was hard not to notice his muscles.

You recalled one day you were trying to nap but the repeated sound of banging outside kept waking you. You stormed outside to yell at him but you were not expecting the sight of him shirtless and swinging an ax down onto firewood. Your throat felt like it was drying up and you turned around before he caught you.

When had he gotten attractive? It didn’t matter, he was still the same unbearable Bakugou you had known since you were born. Looks couldn't make up for that personality.

Despite your distaste for each other, Bakugou’s mother insisted he walk with you to school to watch over you. You would complain and say that it was unnecessary but your mother would scold you for being rude and tell you to just accept it.

Some days you’d walk to and from school in silence. Others you would trade insults the whole way earning looks from people you passed.

“They’re picking tributes soon.” You said. It was rare for you to start a normal conversation but the Hunger Games were fast approaching and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. “We’re eighteen now, it’s our last one. It looks like we might make it out.” You said with a dry laugh.

“What are you scared or something?” He replied.

“What? No, I mean what are the chances of getting picked?” You said with a shrug. “You’re probably the one that's scared.” You bit back. So much for having a normal conversation with him.

Time flew by and it was finally the day of the Reaping.

If you thought it was silent before on your walks with Bakugou it was even worse today. Despite the fact you both pretended like you weren’t scared, you were terrified and you knew even Bakugou was nervous.

If he was chosen at least he would stand a chance. He was strong and she had seen how he fought others at school in the past. If it was between him and a trained district kid you’d bet on him every time.

You, on the other hand, you never had held a weapon in your life. You weren’t very strong and not very fast. Your chances were overall bad.

Bakugou stopped as you approached the place where you would go your separate ways.

“Our last one, after this we don’t have to worry.” You said forcing a smile.

“Whatever.” He scoffed before turning to walk to the boy's side.

“I was trying to be nice for once.” You complained. “Screw you, I hope you get picked.”

You might hate Bakugou but you didn’t mean it. In fact, the thought of him getting picked made you feel things you couldn’t explain. After this was over you’d walk home and complain about the boring life you’d have in District Seven and bask in the relief of knowing that you would be safe.

As the escort of District Seven stood on the stage you stood in the crowd tapping your foot. This would be over soon and you could go home and never worry about this again.

“Ladies first.” The woman said fluttering to the left side and drawing from the pool of names there. She opened the paper and announced the name.

Heads turned but one set of eyes burned into you more than others. You couldn’t breathe. You were suffocating, drowning, frozen to the ground. You turned to look at Bakugou from across the crowd. Staring at him, helpless with tears in your eyes. You didn’t know why he was the first person you sought out.

“Come on, dear. Don’t be shy!” The woman said waving you up to the stage.

Taking shaky steps you walked through everyone to the stairs. Standing up there was surreal. It felt like a nightmare. Your eyes stayed on Bakugou’s red ones, how odd you looked to him for comfort in the worst time of your life. You supposed this would be the last time you’d look into those familiar eyes. Why did that make you so sad?

The woman moved to the boy's side and pulled a name but you could hardly pay attention. You snapped out of your fog when you heard a familiar voice.

“I volunteer!” Your eyes snapped to the ash-blond you had known your whole life. What was he thinking?

Bakugou walked to the stage and you stared in disbelief. What was going on?

It was a blur, you were ushered into a room with your parents. They were sobbing, hugging you, holding you like it’d be the last time. Well, it would be the last time, you supposed.

You were led to a train, the inside was decorated far nicer than most things in your district. You sat there feeling numb. It was overwhelming enough being picked but you were trying to wrap your head around Bakugou. Why would he volunteer? None of you ever wanted to be picked. This wasn’t District One where people trained for it.

Bakugou entered and stared at you blankly. You don’t know what happened but something snapped in you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You screamed, lunging for him. The escort for your district was quick to make her way to the other side of the train car to avoid the commotion. “Why would you volunteer? Do you have some death wish!?”

You grabbed at his shirt, hitting his chest but he stood still and unmoving not saying a word.

“What about your parents? What about your future? You’re throwing it all away!! It’s bad enough I got picked I didn’t have a choice.” Tears ran down your face uncontrollably. “You had a choice! You had a choice!”

A man you hadn’t seen before pulled you off of Bakugou, leading you to one of the rooms on the train.

“Cool off here for a while.” The man with long black hair said. “It’s a lot to take in. Take your time processing it.”

With that, he closed the door. You laid on the bed, your throat raw from screaming. It didn’t take long for your tears to come. You sobbed and sobbed, curled up on the bed. Why did this happen?

By the time you woke up you hadn’t even realized that you fell asleep. You felt so exhausted. It was still hard to understand everything that had happened. How did you get picked, why could Bakugou volunteer?

You avoided him, not wanting to see him. Every time you thought about him it stirred a rage in you that you didn’t quite understand.

The man that had pulled you off of Bakugou introduced himself as Aizawa Shouta, he was a previous winner from your district. Even though he had won you could see the damage that it left on him. That scared you, even people who won looked miserable.

Aizawa explained that he was to mentor you both and help as much as he could to prepare you for the games. It still didn’t feel real as he explained it all.

Before you knew it you were in the capital, a place you never expected to see. It was big and fancy, far more developed than your district. You followed alongside Aizawa, Bakugou on his other side. You didn’t want to look at him but you still felt the urge to sneak glances at him. When you did his eyes were on you, once you realized that you would look away quickly as if you hadn't been looking in the first place.

The building you were to stay in until the games began were modern and high tech. You stayed in your room, even when you were told dinner was ready. You wanted to be alone, more than that you didn’t want to be around Bakugou.

A knock on the door caught your attention. You cautiously opened it to see Aizawa there with a plate of food. He handed you the plate and you let him in.

“Why won’t you come out for dinner?” He asked.

“I don’t want to see him.” You said, taking a bite of the food even though you didn’t have an appetite. The food was of better quality than anything your family could ever afford. Did they feel better if they spoiled the children before sending them to their deaths?

“He volunteered.” He said the way he said it implied that he knew something that you didn’t.

“Yeah, and that was stupid.” You said. “Why would he choose a death sentence.”

“Things aren’t always that simple.” He said.

You stared at him, trying to comprehend what that meant. What valid motivation could he have?

“I’ll let you get some rest but you have training tomorrow.” He said.

“Training?” You questioned.

“Yeah, you'll have time to train for the games. You should pick something to impress the judges so they’ll give you a good rating.” He said. “If you get a good rating people will support you, send you stuff to help during the game.”

“Oh.” You said. You had seen some of it on TV but you always tried to avoid watching most of it. It made you sick to see children sent off to their deaths. You had seen people you grew up with sent to the games. You supposed you’d have to do the interviews too. How were you supposed to pretend to be some charming person when you were just a lamb for the slaughter?

Days went on and you trained from morning to night, you weren’t strong but you tried to practice with some weapons. An ax felt familiar you used it to chop wood before. It felt pointless, even if you could use it well enough you knew you didn’t have it in you to kill someone. You had no chance.

You spent a lot of time studying the plants, it interested you even if it would only help you so much. There were a lot of plants that were good for healing and some were even dangerous.

Reading a book on herbology, you sat far away from the other tributes who were sparring and throwing weapons at targets. It was hard to focus knowing that you’d be their target in a few days.

“Why are you wasting your time with that?” A familiar voice said behind you.

“It’s none of your business.” You spat back at Bakugou.

“Plants aren’t going to keep you from getting a knife in your back.”

“Why are you even here? How stupid are you to volunteer?”

“I’m going to win. I win at everything I do.” He said.

You stared at him in disbelief. You knew that Bakugou strives to beat everyone in his way but he never expressed that in regards to the Hunger Games. He always acted the way you did and how most did. They were disgusting and you wanted to avoid them as much as possible.

You turned your attention away from him, you couldn’t deal with him. You didn’t have long before the games would begin. You had to focus on what you were doing for the judges, not that it mattered. You knew you couldn’t compare to the others. You didn’t have much of a chance.

For the judges you displayed your knowledge of plants, it wouldn’t get you a great score but it was better than doing nothing. They seemed barely interested so you didn’t expect much.

Sitting on the couch of the apartment you were staying at with Bakugou and Aizawa you weren’t shocked to see yourself get a four. You heard a scoff from Bakugou and you sent him a dirty look. You were shocked to see Bakugou get a twelve. You knew that he was strong and his willpower alone was enough to make him the best at everything he did but it still left you wondering just what he did to get that score.

Time passed quickly and before you knew it the interviews were up. It was the last big event before the games would begin. That made your stomach churn. It wouldn’t be long until you’d be in an arena and everyone there would want you dead. There hadn’t been a day since you arrived in the capital that you weren’t stuck in your head dreading what would come. It was almost impossible to sleep and even harder to stomach anything.

Your stylist had picked a deep forest green dress for you. It was elaborate and stunning. Staring at it on the mannequin, the dress reminded you of home. The forests that were damp and earthy that always felt right to be in. The hearth in your family’s home that kept you warm on the cold nights. The stews that your mother made that you loved so much. The rain against your window at night while you read your favorite book. The boy next door that no matter how much you fought with him there was a sense of comfort being at his side.

Everything that you would never see again. Tears streamed down your face and you pretended they weren’t there as you were helped into the dress.

Your interview was first. Your entrance was standard, the questions not very exciting. It was easy to feel that the crowd wasn’t very interested in you. How could you capture their interest? You knew you were just another face, just a background character in someone else's story.

Bakugou was after you, the noise of the host and him talking was in the background as you walked with Aizawa out of the backstage area.

“You volunteered and you from District Seven, that’s very rare. What could possibly make you do something like that.” The host questioned. You scoffed, you already knew his answer. ‘Because I’ll win.’ You could hear it perfectly in his voice.

“Because the girl I love was chosen.” He said. You must have misheard that. You turned to look at the screen and saw him sitting on the couch on stage looking far more dressed up than you had ever seen him in your life.

“The girl you love, and by that do you mean your district partner?” The host asked excitedly looking at the crowd as if they hadn’t heard.

“Yes, we grew up with each other. I lived next door to her, we spent everyday walking to and from school. No matter how much we teased each other or pretended we didn’t like each other I always cared about her. When I heard her name called I knew that I couldn’t watch her do this alone. I volunteered so I can protector her, and make sure she gets to make it home.” He said.

“Wow, what an amazing story. Doesn’t it tug on your heartstrings? We all wish you luck in the games.” The host said as Bakugou was ushered away.

Numbness was all you felt. His words rang in your head. Aizawa looked at you with a concerned expression.

How could he lie like that? Just so he would have the viewers on his side? Just so he would have more sponsors in the game feeling sympathy for his sob story.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You started as Bakugou walked down the hall towards you. He gave you a blank stare. “I know you couldn’t care less about me but did you really have to involve me in your story to manipulate the viewers?”

Bakugou stared at you before moving past without a word. You had expected him to yell at you or argue that it only made sense to use every advantage you could get but his silence was unsettling.

It was a blur. It was the day of the games. You stood in a cold room staring at the elevator that would lift you into the arena. This was it. It probably wouldn’t be long until you were dead. Taking a deep breath you took in the clothing you were provided. The heavy coat was large and made you feel too warm in this small room. From what you could gather it was going to be cold in the arena. At least you were used to snow. The best thing you had going for you was your survival skills if you could get away from the blood bath without dying.

Aizawa was there to give you your last bits of advice. The biggest being to avoid the cornucopia, it was always guaranteed to be a blood bath where only the strongest came out on top. Aizawa advised you to take what minor supplies you could get and hide away from others until necessary.

There was a far off look in his eyes. It was easy to tell that he was trying to distance himself emotionally. No doubt it was hard to get to know two kids every year only to watch them die horrifically.

“Thank you for everything.” You said softly.

“Goodbye.” He said giving you a sad smile.

A timer had begun counting down as you entered the elevator. Pressing your eyes closed you took a deep breath. A part of you considered if going for the cornucopia would be the best way to end things quickly. You shook your head. You owed it to your family, to yourself to at least try even if it was only delaying the inevitable.

The elevator started to move and an opening appeared at the ceiling. Cold air flooded the space and you were glad you were dressed the way you were. As you entered the arena you took in your surroundings. At least two feet of snow blanketed everything in sight. Most of the space around was open but in the distance, there was a forest. Mountains and cliff sides lingered in the distance.

The cornucopia sat not far away, surrounded by different items. It was tempting but it was a setup. You glanced towards the forest, it would be the best option. The cover of the trees would help you hide away from the others.

Looking around the others surrounding you, you recognized them all. You knew which ones you should be careful of. Your eyes met Bakugou’s and your stomach dropped. Once you ran away would you ever see him again? Your last words to him hadn’t been kind. Would he win? Or would he be killed by another tribute? What would he do if it was only the both of you remaining? Would he kill you? You knew you could never hurt him.

The clock ticked and with each sound, your heart beat faster and faster.

Run. Just run. Don’t look back.

The clock hit zero and chaos broke out. You fled for the trees not sparing a look back. The snow was deep and hard to move through, thankfully you were used to the snow. You weren’t expecting to find a backpack in the snow. You grabbed it without stopping as you ran to the trees.

Once you were in the tree line you felt some relief but you knew others would have the same idea so you continued not slowing your pace. You ran and ran until you couldn’t go anymore. You spotted a tree with strong looking branches and figured it was a decent place to hide for now.

Climbing the tree you were able to get comfortable as possible so you could look through the backpack. In it were some supplies, rations, water, rope, and a few other things.

The biggest concern for survival would be cold. It was cold now and it would only get worse. Your clothing would keep you warm but it might not be enough. You waited, carefully listening to the forest and its sounds. Eventually, nightfall came and the canons went off announcing the number of deaths that had occurred for the day. Fifteen in total. More than half gone already. She wondered if they thought they could survive the cornucopia or if they had gone to it in hopes of ending things quickly. When you didn’t see Bakugou’s face among them you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

As much as you knew you needed to you couldn’t sleep. You knew the danger you were in. As the temperature dropped you wished you could make a fire but you knew it was too risky to do so.

Morning came and you wanted to hunt today, you had the rations from the backpack but you wanted to keep them as a backup if you couldn’t get food. The skill wasn’t unfamiliar, you had done it before just not with these tools. There was a hatchet in the backpack, it wasn’t normally used to hunt but you could make it work.

You had been able to kill a rabbit, making a small fire to cook it before putting it out and moving on. As night fell you made your way into another tree for the night. You accidentally fell asleep a few times throughout the night before startling awake.

Days passed and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt any warmth. Tributes died day by day, none of them were Bakugou. That was a relief and it made you nervous at the same time. You didn’t want to face him.

The landscape before you was beautiful, you had scaled one of the smaller parts of the mountain. It was risky but if you got higher up you hoped it would deter other tributes from finding you. Green pine trees covered the ground as far as you could see. It reminded you of home. You pushed that thought out of your mind before it brought you any more sorrow.

As you moved through some of the dense trees on the mountain you weren’t expecting to come upon the edge of a cliff. You stumbled, pulling back so that you wouldn’t fall but it was too late. Your gravity was off and there was no way to stop yourself now. You reached out hopelessly to catch anything to stop yourself from falling. What you weren’t expecting was for someone’s hand to grasp yours. You were pulled back to safety as you came face to face with Bakugou.

“Idiot, watch where you’re going!” He said staring at you with an angry expression.

“Bakugou?” You said in confusion, why was he here? Had he been following you. “You know it’s not a great tactic to save your enemies from dying. Kind of losing out on a free loss.”

“I don’t want to win the loser’s way.” He grunted before letting go of you, you nearly fell to the ground.

“Really, why are you here?” You questioned.

“Because it’s a good place to be, if you’re the first one in these mountains you’ll have the high ground.” He answered. “We might as well as team up since we’re both here. The others have made alliances.”

“I���m not really helpful for an alliance, you should know that.” You said, sitting down on the ground to get your breath back. Your heart was still pounding from the adrenaline.

“Better than nothing.” He said before sitting down next to you.

The silence was odd. In a way it was so similar to all the times you walked to school in silence, forgoing the usual trade of insults. But it was different all at the same time. You weren’t going about your normal day, you were in the middle of an even that would leave one if not both of you dead.

“I still don’t get why you volunteered. Even if you win it’s not worth it.”  You said to him. Even if you received money and everything else they gave was it worth the risk? Was it worth the trauma you’d be left with?

“You don’t have to understand.” He said. That left you with more questions than answers but you didn’t push further.

Taking the day you made your way into the mountains more, as night fell you stopped to make camp. You were unsure about making a fire but Bakugou didn’t seem too concerned.

“Here.” He said throwing a sleeping bag at you. You had noticed the good-sized backpack he had on when you met earlier. You wondered if he had managed to get anything from the cornucopia but you didn’t ask. Were any of the people that were killed on the first day killed by him? It was hard to imagine him taking someone's life.

“Thank you.” You said. You were thankful for the sleeping bag, it would be a lot better than the trees you had stayed in all night.

“I’ll take first watch.” He said. You wanted to argue but you were so tired from the lack of sleep that you gave in.

It was odd the sense of safety you had with Bakugou. A part of you said that he could slit your throat while you slept but you knew deep down he wouldn’t. If he was going to kill you he would be straight forward about it. You fell asleep without hesitation.

You returned to consciousness quickly, the sensation of someone’s hand pressed against your mouth. Your eyes opened up and you realized that it wasn’t Bakugou but another tribute. You tried to scream but it was muffled. Moving for your hatchet you realized that they had you fully pinned down. Tears burned in your eyes as you stared up at them.

“Get off of her!” You heard Bakugou yell. You wondered where he had been.  

“Why would I do that?” The guy said, you felt the cold steel of a blade press against your neck and you let out a whimper.

“Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes,” Bakugou said and you knew he was talking to you. Without thinking you listened.

With a yelp of pain, the guy tumbled off of you, and a weight was lifted from your chest both literally and figuratively. There was a noise of a commotion, rustling, and grunts of pain before everything went silent. A moment passed and the sound of a canon rang out in the arena.

“Just wait here, don’t look.” He said. You knew what had happened but it was hard to believe. There was more sound, footsteps, the sound of something being dragged before more footsteps. “Okay.”

Opening your eyes you could see Bakugou in the moonlight, standing over you. What stood out was the blood that covered his hands and his jacket, barely reflecting in the glow.

“T-Thank you.” You stuttered out, still scared. You knew that you would die here but coming face to face with death was worse than you imagined. “I-I” You started but tears ran down your face.

The last thing you expected was for him to kneel and take you in his arms. Your first reaction was to stiffen, was he going to kill you? When you felt him gently place you head against his chest you realized he was hugging you. As much as you wanted to push him away or argue you felt so vulnerable after what happened. You slowly wrapped your arms around him before letting loose more tears.

“You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.” He said. You had only seen this side of him once before.

When you were young you had been in the forest behind your houses, playing like you did often. It had been an accident, you weren’t looking. You jumped off a rock into a pile of leaves, playing in them. What you didn’t expect was there to be a bear trap.

The pain was so bad you had nearly blacked out. You remembered how panicked he was, rushing to your side. He disarmed the trap faster than you expected and before you knew it he was carrying you home.

The memories of it were vague from the pain and time but what stuck in your head was the soft voice he used reassuring you everything was going to be alright and the tears that welled up in his eyes.

By the time you woke up in bed bandaged up Bakugou was back to his normal self, no hint of the teary-eyed boy you had seen. A part of you always wondered if that had been your imagination trying to soothe you through the traumatic moment.

The softness Bakugou showed you know made it clear that your memory had not been incorrect. Hands gripping into his jacket he held you until your tears stopped and the sun slowly rose in the sky.

He explained that he had heard a noise and went off to look for the source and when he returned the other tribute had been on you. He didn’t apologize but you could hear the guilt in his voice. These events had just furthered your confusion about everything.

Once there was enough light you ate some rations before packing up and heading further up the mountain. Your travel was silent for the most part but every once and a while you would talk.

The number of tributes was getting lower every day. Not counting you and Bakugou there were three others left. Honestly, you hadn’t expected to make it this long. You wouldn’t have made it this long if it wasn’t for Bakugou saving you last night.

“What are you going to do if it gets down to just the two of us?” You asked, your breath appearing in the cold air.

“Why are you asking such a stupid question?” He grunted back at you.

“I think it’s a fair question.” You said. Did his avoidance of it mean that it was obvious he would kill you?

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I think the quickly approaching reality is something I should worry about.” You returned. “Unless you think I’ll die before then.”

“You might with how clumsy you are, idiot.” He said, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes scanned the snowy trail.

“Even on death’s door, you’re going to give me that attitude?” You said annoyed. “Bakugou Katsuki, you are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met.”

The sound of a canon went off stopping your conversation. Just a second later another one went off. You took a shaky breath. There was only one other tribute left.

Looking over at Bakugou you caught his gaze, you didn’t miss the nervous look in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“One left.” You whispered to yourself.

That night you set up a small camp in the mouth of a cave. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat anything, the nerves were too much. It was almost over, how had you made it into the top three? Would the last tribute kill you both? Or would Bakugou kill the last tribute? Then what?

It came crashing down on you even harder than it had before. Someone had to die. You and Bakugou wouldn’t make it out together, there was only ever one winner. Tears streamed down your face before you recognized them.

Bakugou Katsuki had been a constant in your life, a constant you always thought that you hated but sitting here confronting the idea of him dying tore you apart. You cared about him more than you would ever like to admit. Even if you argued more than anything else Bakugou always looked after you. If someone was mean to you at school he would scare them off, if you got hurt he would patch you up even if he did make fun of you the whole time, he was always there for you no matter what.

Why had life decided to be so unfair to you?

A day passed and you hiked further into the mountains, there had been no sign of the other tribute. That made you nervous, you knew that the game maker wanted a show and if he didn’t get one the would do what they thought would make things interesting and it wouldn’t be good for you.

Passing through a dense forest you felt on edge. You knew something bad would happen but you didn’t know what exactly it would be. You felt like something was watching like you were being hunted. Glancing at Bakugou you knew he was on edge too.

A crack of thunder rang out. You knew with how suddenly it hit it wasn’t natural. Suddenly rain poured down, with how cold it was you knew it would be bad if you got soaked.

“We need to find cover,” Bakugou said looking to you.

The two of you picked up your pace into a run, searching for anything that would work. You spotted a cave opening, it was dangerous to be in a confined space but you would only be in more danger out here. The storm hit harder and harder with every passing moment. Lightning striking nearby and thunder rumbled the ground around you.

You tripped, landing on your knees. Bakugou pulled you up by the back of your jacket and back onto your feet. This time he took your hand into yours pulling you along.

Finally, you reached the cave, the shelter from the storm providing some relief. You looked at Bakugou and without saying anything you both knew this was a trap. Opening your backpack you pulled out the flashlight that was in there. Turning it on you were able to see your surroundings better.

“Let’s go in further,” Bakugou said looking around. “Be careful, we don’t know if they’re in here or if they’ll be behind us.”

The cave wasn’t spacious but the tunnel you followed went deeper in. It was eerily silent, the only sound was from the storm outside. You don’t know how long it took but eventually, it opened up to a large cavern. There was an opening in the ceiling of the cave letting in icy cold air and the rain that poured down but overall it was enough to cover from the storm.

“It’s a dead end.” You said looking around.

“So we wait.” He said.

Bakugou paced the cavern, walking around different parts of it surveying the space.

It happens quickly, you hear a noise and suddenly Bakugou is on the ground under the last tribute. A knife is at his throat as he struggles to hold it back. Fear grips you at the sudden occurrence.

For a moment you’re frozen, your body won’t move even if your head is screaming at you to help. You finally break free and rush forward, you tackle the tribute off of Bakugou and onto the ground of the cavern.

It’s messy, you struggle and fight but the tribute is far stronger than you and easily throws you off before regaining his balance and attacking.

Bakugou watches in horror as the tribute overtakes you. He moves forward, knife in hand this time. He blocks out the reality of what he has to do, driving the blade down into his back repeatedly. He pulls him off of you, throwing him to the side.

As the canon goes off he blocks out the fact that it’s just the two of you left. He knows what he has to do but he can’t bring himself to think about it yet. He wants to enjoy the last moments of peace.

“Katsuki.” You say but your voice is ragged. He’s taken aback at the use of his first name. “Don’t look.”

His stomach drops as he realizes the blood soaking through your coat isn’t the tribute's. He panics, dropping to his knees beside you tearing open your coat trying to find the wound.

“No, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” He said pressing against the wound trying to stop the bleeding.

“You’re going to win just like you wanted.” You replied.

“You idiot!” He yells. “I didn’t volunteer to win, I did it to protect you!”

He watches your face fall at the realization.

“You-”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you going through this alone, if you died I would never forgive myself for not being there. I volunteered to make sure that you would make it out alive!”

“Why?” Your voice was breathless, eyes tearing up.

“Because I love you, idiot!” He yelled. “How stupid are you?”

“Katsuki, I-” You started, your breathes heavily as you tried to speak. “I-” You tried to speak but your eyelids fell closed, consciousness fading.

“No! I’m not gonna lose you. You can’t die, I did this to keep you safe!” He screamed. “I did this to protect you! Why did you try to help me! I was supposed to die for you!”

Tears ran down his face as he screamed out. A canon went off and it felt like he had been stabbed. He collapsed into you, sobbing into your stomach.

The games came to a close. They retrieved Bakugou but he fought tooth and nail to keep the peacekeepers away that tried to take him away from your body. The only option they were left with was to sedate him.

Once Bakugou woke up they tried to explain to him that he would have to do an interview at the capitol as well as make appearances in all of the districts. Their words fell on deaf ears as he refused to listen to anyone, trying to attack anyone who got close enough. They finally decided to send Aizawa in.

“Bakugou, you need to be reasonable.” He said. “If you don’t listen they will kill you and tell everyone that it was from your injuries in the games.”

“I have nothing to live for, the only reason I did any of this was to make sure she won and I failed and now I have to live with that.” He spits back.

“I know,” Aizawa said solemnly. “I’m sorry, I know you did everything to protect her.”

“If they want to kill me then let them.”

“Please, at least let me see if they will let you go home without any media. We can say that you got sick from something in the arena and had to be sent home.”

Bakugou didn’t reply but Aizawa took that as a yes.

Stepping into the empty house Bakugou felt numb. Aizawa had managed to get him home without any more disturbance. The capital was in an upset without the media the thrived off of after the Games. Many people were looking forward to the tearful remembrance of you. The capitol had been enthralled by the love story between you and Bakugou.

What was the point anymore? Looking out the window to the yard, it was rainy and foggy. He couldn’t bring himself to care about anything. He hadn’t even seen his parents since he got back to District Seven.

It haunted him, watching you die. Your stuttered last words cut off by your last breath. Did you love him back? It was something he would never have an answer to and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.

alternate ending

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bakugousidehoe @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh @x0doodlebug0x @katsuhoee

[peachcitt]

okay, so style reference you say? I'm 👀

YES STYLE REFERENCE I SAY

this is going to be. a very long post i think with probably a lot of tangents and probably with a lot more thorough explanation than you could ever want but. here we go

because all of my theory/explanation posts end up So Long, i like to organize myself by keeping myself to a structure, and i also like to think if i put stuff in sub categories with bolded titles, people reading can skip ahead to the stuff they want if they're low on time or don't feel like slogging through everything. so here's the structure of the official Peach Style Reference Narrative

1. Early Days - how i started writing, my early inspirations, origins

2. Current Days - discussions of current style references plus examples and comparisons, discussions of original content versus fan content

3. Future Days - where i expect my writing to grow, trajectories i want, conclusory thoughts

without further ado, let's get into it!

1. Early Days

like i mentioned on the discord server, ive been writing creatively for. a very long time. i just turned 20 (like. literally today. we love to see it) and that seems very young, but i remember writing creatively when i was maybe six or seven, and before that i played with dolls a lot, which meant every day i was creating little narratives for myself. in addition to this - and this is probably why i started writing so young - i was (and am!) a very avid reader. i was that little jerk in elementary school reading chapter books and going into the older kids' section in the school library because i'd already mentally surpassed the books in the section meant for kids my age. so, basically, ive been writing for maybe 13 or 14 years at the least.

when i was young, my favorite books that i remember trying to copy in my own stories were: the magic treehouse books, harry potter, and percy jackson.

the magic treehouse

i honestly could not tell you which magic treehouse book it was, but i remember reading a specific magic treehouse book where the magic lady that left the treehouse for the kids sends the kids (jack and annie??) a note in distress, and she didn't get to finish signing her name because whoever had gotten her had interrupted her. it had been printed in the book with the ink on her name running.

i could not tell you anything else that happened in that book, but i can tell you that at some point in time soon after i read that book i started writing a story with an interrupted letter just like that. i loved the drama, the mystery of it all. i wanted to do something that was a little scary like that, a little exciting.

harry potter

harry potter isn't much of a style reference, but it was a huge impact of my childhood. truth be told i kind of hated the books when i was really young because i grew up watching the movies, and when i tried to read the books when i was in elementary school, the teenage angst that hits about book 5 simply Did Not make sense to me. i also find the language of harry potter to be super cumbersome, and sometimes it feels to me like the books are long just for the sake of being long. they have a huge cultural impact, but i feel the same way about harry potter's style as i do about dickens. cool and interesting, but, like, could you get to the point already? (and also my opinion of j.k. rowling has steadily been growing worse and worse over the years, for obvious reasons. harry potter is nostalgic for me, but i can't look at it now without thinking about it critically, which really lowers my opinion of it)

however, you could probably call my first fanfiction a harry potter fanfiction. i started it when i was maybe six or seven, and it was a rewrite of the chamber of secrets with my childhood best friend as the main character (she didn't know about it, i just had her as the main character because i thought she was cool). i of course never finished it, but harry potter probably did a huge part of planting that seed of magic in me. everything i want to write included some form of magic - although my perspective on what can be considered magic has steadily expanded over the years.

percy jackson

of all my childhood "style references" that still influence me to this day, percy jackson has got to be the biggest. for starters, it's magic. second, it's main themes are about friendship and family - things that i like all my stories now to always include. third - and most important - is the narrative voice.

in terms of narrative voice, percy has a huge personality. he's witty and snarky, but also very thoughtful and poignant. a lot of my early writing was in first person, and it's probably because of percy. also, percy jackson was the first fandom i really got into, and it was the first media that i started officially writing and posting fanfiction for. percy's voice is so clear and hooking, and i wanted to be able to write something funny and real like that.

also - chapter titles. the original pjo series is famous for its weird and hilarious chapter titles, and even though i didn't really start writing fics or stories that were long enough to need chapter titles until a while later, i loved the idea of putting in a chapter title that would make a reader laugh, or maybe even make a reader feel a little apprehensive about the events to come.

but back to percy's narrative voice. i loved that style, almost conversational, so much that i started thinking like it. when i wasn't doing anything, like walking home in middle school, i often found myself narrating my life in my head like percy would, trying to find that humor and spark in my every day surroundings. i still find myself doing that very often, but not necessarily in the classic pjo style. now i narrate everything in my head a little differently, but that practice narration in my early days really helped my shape my voice, i think.

other series i read when i was younger include: a a series of unfortunate events and the name of this book is secret. i don't remember seeing a lot of influence in my early writing from those books, but i definitely think the styles of those books hit me a little later, which i will talk about in the next section.

but, yeah. these were the big three of my childhood. i also read a lot of ya romance, children's mystery books, princess stories, and various types of fantasy, which i think you could probably tell from the genres i like to stick to now. except i don't write a ton of mystery because, as much as i admire the complicated plots, im not sure if i'd have the patience to plan all that out.

in terms of the rest of the genres, a ton of my earlier writing included classic ya romance and fantasy tropes - chosen girl, love triangles, angsty overpowered teens, etc etc. even though those kinds of stories are not necessarily the kinds of stories i want to write or read now, i think my early writing of those kinds of things was really valuable. it's kind of a dirty secret with finished or unfinished works generally considered 'cringe' - often that writer is a new writer, or they're trying something new, or they just haven't found their voice yet. all of those things are perfectly okay and normal, and a lot of people in the writing community preach that kind of thing, but i don't necessarily see people cutting new writers slack in actual practice. writing "overrused" tropes isn't cringe, it's normal, and, besides, what trope isn't overrused? people have been writing and telling stories for thousands of years - nothing is really new. what matter is that someone new is telling the story, and that's what makes it valuable.

so, yeah, a lot of my childhood writing is cringe to me now, but i wouldn't be where i am without it.

with that being said, let's actually look at where i am now

2. Current Days

im going to break this section down into two parts, sort of: original fiction and fanfiction. because i think both of these things have become really important to me, and i don't believe i personally could exist as a writer without one or the other. it's a symbiotic relationship.

we'll start with fanfiction.

my relationship with fanfiction is relatively positive in online spaces: i write what i want to see from media that i like, and i have fun doing it. i also get some comments on my fics by lovely people that detail exactly what they like - some even go so far to talk about narrative style, voice, or tone - and that's really helpful. generally, i see fanfiction not only as a fun hobby and vent space for my strong positive feelings about certain media, but also as a place for me to try new things, experiment, and earn positive feedback.

i don't often share my original fiction online (and if i do, never at the same scope as my fanfiction), so i don't get that same opportunity to see what "works" with readers. fanfiction gives me the space to see that, and i apply new knowledge ive learned to my original fiction. that's what i mean by a symbiotic relationship.

in terms of specific style references for specific fics (which is what i know you probably most want to see), i'll try my best to pick them all out and give specific examples.

those benevolent stars and i am the messenger by markus zusak

in my favorite book list, i saw you mention tbs, so i'll start there. to be honest, i had no idea what my style reference for tbs was when i first saw your tags, and i almost didn't think there was anything specific. style references are a bit sneaky like that - if you've been referencing for someone for a long time, it becomes less of an intentional reference and more of just a you think, so it gets harder to tell.

lucky for this post, i just finished doing my yearly reread of zusak's i am the messenger, and as i was reading, i noticed a few spots where i was like wait hey i remember doing that.

for starters, iatm has been my favorite book for about six or seven years now, so i would say that some aspects of my style certainly comes from zusak because of how much i love iatm but also his other books. zusak has this huge talent for writing short, punchy sentences that convey so much in just a few words, and i think i've ended up trying to do that in my own writing. often, in my writing you'll see fragmentary sentences such as "He stopped. Blinked. Looked at her." that's not from anything specific, but i know ive written something like that maybe a million times over. zusak doesn't do the same thing - often his fragments are jam-packed with imagery in a way that mine aren't - but there's a thoughtfulness in his fragments that are in mine, too. a sort of pause. a hint that there's thinking happening in the narrator or a certain character. for example, i did a quick flip through of my copy and we have:

"We stare across the table.

Just briefly.

At each other." (I am the Messenger, p.144)

so you see how my common sentence fragment of "he stopped / blinked / looked at her" tracks with a fragment like this? i like the way zusak broke up sentences to make you dwell on them a little longer, consider the importance of each section, so i started doing that wayy before i wrote tbs i think.

also, at the time i wrote tbs, i think i was in the process of, or had just finished doing my reread of iatm, and, like i said, zusak loves imagery. tbs is a very imagery-heavy fic. tbs was influenced by a lot of music - a lot of the scenes have very specific pieces of music that i wrote imagining the tone and vibe of. iatm also references a lot of outside media sources, mostly music and films.

there are a couple of scenes in tbs that i think i wrote specifically mimicking or accidentally referencing from iatm. for example, we have this scene in tbs:

"It was almost like he could feel Marinette’s eyes on his back, steady and gentle. 'But you still love her.”

'Yeah,' Adrien said quietly, 'I still love her.' His eyes moved along a streak of purple that bled into a dark blue. 'I hate her a little bit, too.'

Marinette was silent.

He turned around, giving her a smile." (Those Benevolent Stars, chapter 3)

and this scene from iatm:

"'Do you hate me, Ed?'

Still stupid with bubbles and vodka in my stomach, I answer. Very seriously.

'Yes,' I whisper. 'I do.'

We both smack the sudden silence with laughter." (I am the Messenger, p. 233)

obviously there are differences, and i don't think i did it on purpose, but the interaction is very similar. i love the gentle intimacy of that scene in iatm, that weird complication relationship between the main character and the person he loves, the hurt, the brushing it off with laughter. so i wrote a scene that incorporated those things

zusak is also really good at writing moments of quiet into his books that aren't necessarily important to the plot, but are still important. if you've ever read that ghibli meta post talking about the 'quiet' between scenes in studio ghibli scenes, meant to give both the audience and the characters space to breath, it's like that. nothing in iatm is not imporant - it all serves a purpose, even the quiet moments, and i try to do the same thing. there's moments like that in tbs i think, like:

"Marinette gave him a small smile before turning back to her ice cream. Adrien tried to eat his ice cream a little faster, licking up where it had dripped onto his hand.

They were quiet for a while longer, and Marinette finished her ice cream. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the dark sky, littered with stars.

He could see them all in her eyes, too." (Those Benevolent Stars, chapter 3)

and in iatm, you get scenes like:

"Our feet dangle.

I watch them, and I watch the jeans on Audrey's legs.

We only sit there now.

Audrey and me." (I am the Messenger, p.120)

so i definitely think tbs is a very i-am-the-messenger/markuz zusak-inspired fic. there's a lot of zusak's quiet, and there's the pieces of zusak's style that i've picked up along the way that really shine in tbs

tomorrow and this body's not big enough for the both of us by edgar cantero

ive talked about cantero a few times recently, but, as you've probably noticed, in relation to my fic called 'tomorrow.' i wrote tomorrow pretty soon after reading this body's not big enough for the both of us, and i used tomorrow specifically to experiment with cantero's visual writing style. in all the books by cantero ive read, there's this kind of hyper-awareness of a film gaze - how a certain scene would be shot on a camera, dialogue as script writing, and other things like that mixed with prose. i thought it was fascinating, and after finishing this body, i really wanted to play around with that idea. so i wrote tomorrow keeping in mind a "film gaze." for example:

"Two figures sitting on a rooftop, silhouettes. The moon hovers over them carefully, a crescent afraid to break the silence. One of the figures takes a breath, looks up into the sky at the hesitant moon, and he sighs. He closes his mouth again." (tomorrow)

versus in cantero's work, where we get descriptions like:

"And then, like a high-heeled coup de grace, she arrived.

She paused briefly outside the door, her hourglass silhouette cast upon the glass panel with the fresh shiny vinyl letters" (This Body's Not Big Enough for the Both of Us, prologue)

the tone of the two excerpts are very different, but there's a very visual sense to both of them, like they are being described from a shot in a movie rather than a regular work in prose. in tomorrow i also work a lot with specific camera imagery - saying where the camera goes in the scene, what it focuses on - and this body doesn't do this too much, but cantero's meddling kids does at least once that i remember.

regardless, after finishing this body, i wanted to try my hand at the visual structure that cantero uses in his works, so i really leaned in to the idea.

chat noir's white french man hit list for feminist purposes and grasshopper jungle by andrew smith

this is, as of right now, the most recent fic on my ao3, and i started it the literal day i finished grasshopper jungle. i think you might be getting a theme here - i read a really good book, and then immediately after i start writing something. the easiest way to get inspired as a writer is to read.

chat noir's hit list is a fic that is very much aware of the fact that it is a story being told - you don't know by who or for what real reason until the end, but it's a self aware sort of story. it's also very snarky and sarcastic, and it expands past just the confines of its own story; it's about chat noir and his hit list, but it also talks in depth about emilie agreste, chat noir's relationship with ladybug, and his relationship with himself. this is very much the kind of thing that you would find in an andrew smith book - grasshopper jungle is a story being told to you, and it's also about more than just the original pieces of the plot. the narrator tells the story that expands past regular confines of the story he means to tell - he's telling the 'history' of his life and his town, but he also talks about his great-great grandfather, the origins of the ketchup his girlfriend's dad eats, and what's happening in other parts of the country as he and his best friend are hanging out. the line in chat's hit list of "stars exploded, the sun did not, life continued on" was very much a grasshopper jungle and andrew smith-inspired line.

at the end of adrien's narration in chat's hit list, he says:

"It should be mentioned at this point in time that this story is not over, although I’ll stop telling it here.

So that’s the story of Chat Noir, who is also Adrien Agreste, who was very much a normal boy, except for the fact that he wasn’t. It’s a sad story, but it is also a happy story, and it is highly confidential. I’m sure you understand." (Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List for Feminist Purposes)

and at the end of grasshopper jungle, as the main character is closing out his narration, we get:

What I have written here is not the history of Eden. It is the history of the end of the world. All real histories will be about everything, and they will stretch to the end of the world.

The end of the world started when Andrej Szczerba slid into the cold sea as his boy, Krys, watched and wept and drifted closer and closer to the United States of America.

Nobody knew anything about it." (Grasshopper Jungle, p.382-3)

It's not overtly similar, but the structure is the same: recognition of the end, short summary of where we started and left the story, tag phrase that was used prior in the work. when i was writing the end of adrien's narration, i didn't mean to mirror grasshopper jungle so closely, but sometimes things just happen that way - honestly, so many of the things i do in my writing aren't intentional, they're subconscious. when i make a conscious choice, it's related to plot or to a new strategy im applying to style or voice that i'm not used to, but a lot of the things i do fly under the radar in my brain unless im purposefully trying to piece them apart like i am here.

i will say the meta-story of chat's hit list was pretty directly inspired by grasshopper jungle because i love meta stories, and i like using opportunities to put them in. i just love the idea of reading a story of someone telling someone else a story, which is what the two books by andrew smith i've read have been, and i think that's just fascinating, which is why i used it here.

ive gotten a couple of comments on chat's hit list that liken the narrative style to pseudonymous bosch's the name of this book is secret and lemony snicket's a series of unfortunate events, which i thought was really interesting, because i was purposefully trying to make the voice an impression of andrew smith's voice adapted to the tone of ml, but i could definitely see their reasoning.

andrew smith, like i mentioned before, likes specifics - what exactly people were doing at certain times, where a specific bottle of ketchup came from, etc. from what i remember of the name of this book is secret and a series of unfortunate events, i remember the descriptions included in those books chock full of highly specific, snarky details that aren't truly necessary, but do a whole lot in terms of adding a certain flavor to the narration. i won't try and look up examples from unfortunate events and the name of this book, but here are a couple examples:

"See, the thing about Emilie Agreste, formerly Emilie Graham De Vanily, is that she was what could be generously called a ‘radical.’ Born in 1969, like most amazing and world-altering things, Emilie Graham De Vanily grew up in London alongside her twin sister, who is a nice enough woman and who is not really that important to this story, and she was raised with the firm and gentle hands of people who had witnessed war and cruelty and had found that they did not like at all. Emilie Graham De Vanily grew up learning about the true history of England, which is not a very nice history, truly, and she grew up knowing that people with white skin like her were historically not all that great. That, historically, was a very radical thought." (Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List for Feminist Purposes)

from chat's hit list, and this:

"In 1905, being seventeen years old made you a man. In 1969 when hungry Jack fought in Vietnam, seventeen years old was a man. My brother, Eric, who was somewhere in Afghanistan, was twenty-two.

Krzys Szczerba came across the Atlantic with his father. They planned on working and earning enough money so Krzys's mother, brother, and two sisters could come to the United States, too. People who did that were called Bread Polacks. They came here to make money." (Grasshopper Jungle, p. 68)

from grasshopper jungle. once again, obviously very different, but you can tell im playing around with that same feeling of giving a surplus of facts in my narration in the same way that andrew smith does. you can't really tell in the grasshopper jungle excerpt, but oftentimes the surplus of 'facts' serves almost a comedic effect, which is definitely something that you can feel in chat noir's hit list.

[REDACTED] and six of crows by leigh bardugo

as a reward for sticking around through this, i'll give out something fun here. the current long fic that ive been working on recently has proved to be very bardugo-inspired, particularly six of crows-inspired.

in six of crows, bardugo gives us action right off the bat and then integrates flashbacks into lulls of action so that there's never truly a dull moment. i found [REDACTED] to be a fic where i wanted to use flashbacks in a similar way, so that i would get something like:

"She doesn’t stay for the whole parade, but she stays for enough of it. Nothing unusual happens, just like always, but she still makes cursory patrols around the city, ending up at the Eiffel Tower, just like always. She sits on the railing way up at the top, and she crosses her ankles, swinging her legs back and forth and humming softly to herself as she watches the sun set.

'Little kitty on the roof, all alone without his lady,' he used to sing when he’d gotten back to their meeting point from patrolling his half of the city before her. It was just a silly little song, one that he’d clearly made up for himself."

It didn’t hurt until he’d been akumatized, and she’d seen that one version of the future - the one where he’d destroyed the whole world because of Gabriel Agreste. She’d seen him then, a lonely figure in white, humming his little song to himself. Who knows how long he’d been like that before she’d been transported to him, how long he’d been really and truly alone. (REDACTED, chapter 1)

and in comparison, we get a lot of scenes in six of crows like:

"Kaz leaned against the ship's railing. He wished he hadn't said anything about his brother. Even those few words raised the memories, clamoring for attention. What had he said to Geels at the Exchange? I'm the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel. One more lie, one more piece of the myth he'd built for himself.

After their father died, crushed beneath a plow with his insides strewn across a field like a trail of damp red blossoms, Jordie had sold the farm. Not for much." (Six of Crows, p.205-6)

bardugo uses most of the flashbacks during a time in which the main characters are on a long sea voyage, which means they have a lot of time to reflect on their pasts and what brought them to these situations - it's a smart way to fill the empty space of the sea voyage and to really dwell on how important the voyage is. in a similar way, i chose to use the flashbacks in dull or lulling moments in the events of the story, ones in which marinette lets her mind wander or sees something that makes her remember something specific.

however, here's a situation where you can see me adapt the style into something that makes more sense for me, personally: in my excerpt, the tense changes between the current events and the flashback events, while in bardugo's excerpt, the tense stays the same at a comfortable past tense. when i was writing my fic with the flashbacks, i thought the constant, sometimes abrupt, switching would get confusing, so i made sure to always have a clear line using the past and present tense that readers could consciously or unconsciously take notice of.

so there are a couple of instances within some fairly recent fics i have that have specific callbacks to specific books. there are a whole bunch more, i think, but these are the ones that ive played around with intentionally the most recently or the most often.

3. Future Days

based on my recent rapid experimentation in fics (the most recent four fics on my ao3 have been very experimental in comparison to most of my works), i really anticipate a lot of growth in my overall style. ive been having a lot of fun experimenting and throwing in things that a few years ago i would've never even thought of, so im really excited to see where that might lead me, style wise.

i think as a writer there's always room for growth and learning, and that kind of growth and learning comes from not only practicing writing, but also reading. i cannot stress enough how valuable and impactful reading is on writing. considering ive been trying to read a lot more than i have been in recent years, it makes a lot of sense that ive been making a lot of weird decisions and learning more about what i want to see in my own writing.

honestly, if you ever want to know about any of my other fics, or you want to see how this kind of thing translates to my original works, just shoot me an ask! this post is already long enough, so i think i'll go ahead and end it here, but just know you can always ask questions<3

thank you so much for asking me this question and letting me indulge, and thank you for reading!!!<3<3<3<3

[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, yours (8) (M)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre:  family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: cursing, mature content, angst

A/N: This one was so easy and fun to write frankly! Thank you so much for letting me know your opinions for the last chap, it motivates me like 1000x more! If you could tell me what you thought about this one as well, it would be nice! Thank you 🎉 And sorry I edited this one, but Im sure there will be typos and sentences that made sense in my head while I edited but they actually dont, apologies! 

Tags:  @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt  @luvhtears @ shesdreaminginoverdose (if you want to be tagged/untagged let me know! Im always open^^)

-

MASTERLIST

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8

Once again, you entered your apartment in silence, except the few times Baekhyun let out a tired, exasperated sigh. Your phone was blowing up with messages from your boss; honestly, you didn't understand why was he even trying to contact you after everything that happened. By now you knew you wouldn't be able to save your work spot. Not after what Baekhyun did. And here you were, worrying about not telling your darn boss about your pregnancy.

In the safety of your apartment full of love, you were able to feel. The hotness of emotions was coming back to your bloodstream, the numbness from throwing up and the adrenaline of the fight -it was all palpable in fading touches.

This time, it was you who let out a tired sigh, but you felt the burn behind your eyes yet again as you made your way to the bedroom to collect some clean clothes before making a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring Baekhyun's angry expression as you passed by him.

Before you could close the door, he murmured your name in a warning.

“What.”

“You know we need to talk, right?” he snapped, turning to you. He spotted your bloodshot eyes, full of unshed tears and he assumed you weren't seeing him properly. He was right.

You saw him blurry like a modern art painting. Pretty, yet so… unreadable, almost worrying at how you couldn't see to the depths of it. “I know.”

At your terse answer, he clenched his jaw and you blinked, letting the tears roll down your cheeks just to see the tick in his jaw, the set of his chin almost scary. “Go,” he sighed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers. “We will talk once you're out of there.”

Without waiting for your response, he turned abruptly but to your surprise, he reached for the front door, swinging it open. You closed your eyes just in time for it to slam shut. And he was gone.

-

Quietly, you took a long shower, thinking he wouldn't be back until… well, until he deemed good to be back. Which could be whenever.

Honestly speaking, you never had such a big, troubling fight before. Never. Yes, you did fight, but he never left you. Not at that hour, anyway. And you were also never pregnant. So this was one of a kind problem you found yourself in, and as you tried not to sob through your entire shower, your mind instead stormed through options you had with what happened.

Except, you had none.

You were out of job.

Your boyfriend, a hapkido master, used violence on your boss.

Your boyfriend could be reported.

You lied to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend… was mad at you. Livid.

Was this the end of your relationship?

No.

He wouldn't let go of you that easily, and the realisation of that made you sob right then and there. The relationship you two shared was stronger than any of your doubts that were scaring you; it was stronger than any bad word, any bad action, because you two were more than that and your connection was stronger than that. As much as it hurt you that he left without telling you, you knew him well enough to know he would be coming back to you. You knew he would forgive you and he wouldn't break up with you. Not when you were carrying his children. Baekhyun was much, much more than an angry emotion and a protective action.

And you were pregnant with him.

Three kids. Three.

“Fuck,” you sighed as you closed your eyes under the hot water, wanting it to drown out all of  your intruding thoughts. 

If there was an issue you two genuinely had to worry about, it was how you would feed them and yourselves. Would you even survive bearing three children till the end? Would you survive giving birth? You were way past the first trimester which meant you were over the dangerous period, but you knew better than that. Bearing one child was a constant risk. Three? Definitely playing with fire.

Not wanting to create a huge water bill, you reluctantly turned off the shower even though your body screamed for more. Tired and aching, you dried yourself up, not bothering to put on a lotion; smells had been playing with your stomach too much and you literally despised and hated the constant throwing up game.

It was just ten minutes after your shower; you were lying in the bed, tucked in and ready to call it a day, when Baekhyun came back. His timing was perfect and it meant he didn't wander off in the dark streets to let his frustrations out. He probably went for a short walk.

Some shuffling later, he appeared in the doorway, the small lamp next to the mattress you were lying on gently illuminating your tired self. You didn't dare to look at your boyfriend, but you knew you had to do it. He was expecting you to. He was not in the place to beg for forgiveness now. If it was anyone, it was you.

Sighing, you pressed your lips together as you sat up slowly, looking him dead in the eyes; those dark eyes that had still some leftover heavy showers in them.

“Baekhyun,” you started and he kept your gaze daringly, leaning against the doorframe. When he didn't speak, you pursed your lips. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you.”

Silence.

“I will need more than that.” Was his cold answer.

“Don't you want to sit down?”

He was quiet for a moment, but then he crossed his arms. You knew better than to test him. When it came to irrational stuff you did, he was using the “I'm older” type of power against you, and you couldn't argue with that. “What did he make you sign?”

Once again, it was quiet. He was burning you with his scorching gaze, and you felt your cheeks heat up in complete embarrassment and self-loathing. But you needed to be honest. “I-I'm not sure if it was in the contract,” you started, trying not to stutter, “but he made me… Ehm, I was not supposed to fall pregnant. In exchange of him promoting me at work.”

As expected, Baekhyun let nothing to be read from his face. “Did you sign the contract and not read what it said?”

Please, make this stop. “Yes. But I really didn't think that-t-that-”

He spoke your name, cold and harsh, obviously upset. “You didn't think what?! Just how irresponsible it is not to read the conditions of a piece of fucking paper that can be used against you, huh?!”

Slowly, you tried to breathe. This was necessary. He had to let it out.

“You could have signed him owning you for all I know! Fucking hell,” he sighed, now running his hand through his hair wildly, turning away from you for a moment before sharply turning back, startling you. “And you just wanted to do it because what- you wanted more money? Is it all about money for you?! Since when did you become so fucking materialistic that you would stand in your own damn dreams!!!”

Tears, tears, tears, and he was completely right. Opening your mouth, he snapped.

“No, don't speak! I don't want to hear it right now! Fuck,” he murmured, and paced in front of you, his jaw set strong. “You weren't even pregnant when it all happened, why would you want to get to more money so badly?!”

“I wanted to provide for us as well!” you shouted back now, but your voice was so shaky you felt like you sounded pathetic. He had to know, though. “We are coming from a low-class background, Baekhyun! Why is it so bad for me to want to do more when I am perfectly able to do so?”

“Because you would have ruined your own dreams while chasing something so artificial!” he shouted back, stepping closer to where you were sitting, but you didn't budge from the sudden movement. “Money was, and money will be! But us creating a family together won't be a forever opportunity! And you were willing to just hang it up for, what, 300.000 won more? Don't be ridiculous! Plus! He is a fucking arsehole! If he isn't touching you up, he is treating you like complete shit; you deserve better than any of this! And if I could have, I would have beaten him up long ago.”

You averted his gaze. His words were driven by his love for you, you knew that much. So as much as you wanted to be offended and hurt, he was hundred percent right. Everything he just threw into your face was correct and you couldn't defend yourself, because he would come at you right away.

“Is this really everything our relationship means to you?” he asked, a bit more quietly, but his tired tone was scarring your heart. You dared to look back at him, to see him staring on the ground, one hand on his hip.

“No,” you said and you cried again, “it isn't and you know it, too.”

“Do you think I am incapable of taking care of us? Of the kids?” he looked at you, huge puppy eyes on full display as he slowly let his guard down. “Because all of this just proves you don't trust me as the breadwinner of this household.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your arguments, but ended up going against it. “Baekhyun, we aren't in a situation where I need to stay home, clean and do nothing while you get to earn money as if it was some easy thing to do. I am, and I will continue to work,” you replied resolutely despised tears rolling down your cheeks, “and it isn't you as a breadwinner, but us.”

The society surely was patriarchal, so if you dared to talk to your father in this manner, he would have slapped you. There was no such thing as a woman who got to go against her husband or brother.

Baekhyun, however, wasn't your father or your brother. He wasn't even your husband, and when you saw his troubled look, he finally let himself sink down on the mattress. He was your kind, loving boyfriend. “I already said this,” he started, “but I am not, and I won't keep you inside the house, locked up, while waiting for me to return to you after work. I won't tell you what to do, you know I never did,” he said in a more friendly manner, but it still beared authority. “I respect you as a woman,” he said, speaking your name softly, “and you are my everything.” His hand reached out to caress your cheek that was still wet from your tears. “I need to see you only smiling, happily, but I cannot accept you lying to me like this again. I thought we had been together long enough for us to earn each other's trust, and you going like that behind my back and signing bullshit was nothing but stupid and irresponsible. Especially because your pregnancy was jeopardized like that. You can't be under stress like that, sweetie.”

Hearing him calling you a pet name, you knew the war was over and he finally was on the positive side. His authoritative voice still kept you on edge, so you didn't throw yourself at him just yet.

“If he kicked you out, which I'm pretty much convinced he did, I wouldn't be against you not working until you give birth.”

“Baekhy-”

“Shh, let me speak, honey,” he said quietly and shuffled himself closer, sitting right opposite you cross-legged  as he took your hands in his. “Listen. I know you know it, but having three babies under your heart is a dangerous situation,” he whispered loudly, bringing your intertwined hands to his lips. “It's dangerous especially for you. You are very tired after work, and you come home late and don't get enough rest. Sukyeong even told me you don't always keep up with your meals, and I don't like it one bit.” The way his lips moved against the skin of your hand was soothing you. “Accept that he threw you out, before I file a lawsuit against him for harassing you and making you sign nonsense contracts, and stay home. Find a part-time job instead, but you need to rest, darling.”

“Baekhyun,” you finally spoke and he hummed, as he let your hands fall to his lap. His eyes were now so gentle and full of worry. “I am so sorry. For everything. I shouldn't have done any of that, but please know I did it with good intentions.”

Baekhyun went silent for a bit, analysing your face, your tired features and pale skin, which only reminded him you had been throwing up today and dealing with the situation in the restaurant. Suddenly, he felt so guilty for making you go through all of it in just one evening, (although you were responsible for it, too). Let alone he just shouted at you for good ten minutes. He couldn't even imagine what other things you must have been feeling the past weeks, given how your body was changing day by day. “It's alright, babe, it's alright. I understand. C'mere,” he whispered, opening his arms and you threw yourself at him, making him almost fall back on his back. You snuggled your face into his neck, and he let out a satisfied breath, caressing your back gently. “I'm sorry for shouting at you. But I'm not sorry for punching that idiot. He deserved it.”

You were looking at the skin on his neck and how it disappeared under his shirt that had the first two buttons undone. “Thank you for standing up for me, honey.”

“My baby,” he murmured lovingly into your hair before he gave it a kiss. “My only baby.”

-

You woke up to slow, gentle caresses on your small belly as your shirt was ridden up just a tiny bit, Baekhyun not wanting to wake you just yet. He was behind you, wanting to spoon you as soon as he washed up and fell in bed next to you last night. It didn't take long for both of you to fall asleep, as surprising as that was. The events tired you out, and he wanted you to sleep as much as you could.

He kissed your clothed shoulder before he nosed your neck and buried his face in your hair, while his caresses didn't stop. Letting his eyes close for a moment, he brought his front just a little closer to you, his leg wrapping around yours that were politely connected. His hand absentmindedly wandered further up before going dangerously low, sending shots of pleasure down your core without even paying attention. You knew he would soon realize his effect on you, because you definitely felt like squirming in his hold.

His hand lazily dragged upwards almost touching the underside of your breast when you couldn't keep it in anymore, breathing in sharply just for his hand to stop right under the-

“Oh, I finally have you awake,” he murmured, his husky voice sending another set of chills down your spine.

You couldn't help but smile, happy you woke up to this. The fluid down there was saying something else, though.

“Slept well?” he murmured into your ear, as he continued dragging his hand up. You groaned softly when he groped your breast as he pushed himself even more into you, and you felt it. He was so ready for you.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, enjoying the massage as he proceeded to nibble on your ear from behind, your eyes closed in pleasure. “You?”

“I realised we didn't keep our promise, babygirl.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when your realised what he was implying.

“So, is my beautiful lady still horny enough to go the remaining two rounds?” His voice was so deep, you felt yourself scrunching your eyes shut, the adrenaline quickly making its way into your bloodstream. “We will take it,” he murmured and this time his hand was going down, down, down, the panties the only barrier from his wandering hand as he lifted the hem of them teasingly, testing just how ready you were for him, “very slowly, my dear.”

His fingers played with you just for few seconds before he pushed his middle finger inside, your mouth opening in a silent moan as you leaned back into him.

“It's so early, but you are already like this,” he continued while your head was swimming, his ministrations nothing short of slow, yet so pleasurable, “all for me.”

Your insides were squeezing painfully, and he wasn't moving faster, nor did he have the intentions. “Baekhyun,” you said, trying not to pant too loudly, “I just want you.”

“Hmm? Speak louder, I'm still sleepy.”

“You're such a tease,” you whispered in disbelief before surprising him by reaching behind you to touch him exactly where he needed you. He hissed, his eyes looking at your profile to see the smirk you had on your face.

“I wanted it to be slow, romantic and all of that,” he mumbled before pushing your hand away while he sat up, causing you to fall on your back. As soon as his hand was out of your panties, you felt a pang of frustration before he covered your body with his, his face close to yours as you tried to calm down from him fingering you so sensually.

“I want none of that,” you replied as you grabbed his face for a heated kiss, “I want you inside me, just about now.”

“Needy, naughty…” he muttered with a flirty smirk as he teased you at your opening, causing both of you to groan. “Are you ready, sweetie?” And he still made sure you were okay with him.

“I'm always ready for you,” you whispered, spreading your legs even more for him, as he pushed himself in, your eyes instantly closing in wonderful pleasure only he was able to give you.

He stayed inside, buried and panting into your hot mouth as he rested his forehead on yours. “Sweetheart, open your eyes for me, hm? I love you, you know that?”

“I know that. And I love you, do you know that?” you reciprocated, smiling up at him only to be rewarded with his smiley eyes as he pushed back before diving right in few more times, where he hit your sweet spot. Moaning loudly, he dragged his face to suck on your neck before he took one of your hands, intertwining them with his as he pushed it up above your head.

“I know that. You are my angel,” he said, finishing it with a guttural groan as he felt you pulsing around him, knowing you were about to cross the edge and he was not far behind you.  “Come for me. We have another round,” he breathed before kissing you passionately, messily, moanily.

You mentioned you wanted none of slow. And in the second round, he gave you just that. Baekhyun became ruthless, just before whispering: “Are you riding?” And he was fast to change positions. He helped you straddle him although you definitely had the energy to move and climb by yourself, given your crazy hormonal drive.

“That was just a warm-up session.” He warned, not waiting for you. Your screams, his groans, the heat, it was all so fucking amazing you were left in a complete bliss. You were fast to catch up to him, moving your hips while he was watching from beneath you, eyes dark, glazed over and completely smitten by you.

“You're the best,” you breathed out as you dragged your hands to you breasts, but Baekhyun wanted none of that. He swiftly sat up, his chest almost pressed to yours while you continuously rode him, up and down,  your hands being pushed aside just to be switched with his as he added his sinful lips to the swell of your breasts.

“You're a goddess, mummy,” he muttered, leaving a wet trail on your chest while his hands squeezed and massaged your mounds.

“Baekhyun!” you scolded, and despite the sweat and the delightful pull in your belly approaching yet again, you blushed; the blush definitely caused by his choice of words.

He looked into your eyes, his ones proud and lustful. “It's true,” he muttered, groaning as you sank down exceptionally hard, almost falling onto his sturdy chest. His hands were now squeezing your sides, helping you out, unable to keep the needy touches to himself when you looked so gorgeous like that. He squeezed your arching body to his sweaty chest.

A quick glance at your swollen belly that he made sure you noticed, his hand came to touch against it and you were gone. He caressed you there gently while swallowing your moans as you grabbed his face, kissing him, your hair falling, creating an intimate curtain just around where your mouths were connected. You still had an unearthly energy to help your boyfriend out to his orgasm, not wanting to be in the ecstasy alone, and as much as Baekhyun needed the release, his hands slid across your sides, holding your hips to stop their movement.

“Enough, baby girl,” he whispered into your mouth, leaning back ever so slightly to see your flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead. “I don't want you to hurt yourself.” He was still panting and you swore to god he looked so handsome with his hair glued to his forehead, puffy cheeks. You might have gotten horny again.

“Come with me,” you insisted, attempting to to move again but he bit his lip, a cheeky glint in his eyes, and he held your back tenderly, moving you to lie on your back, while slipping out of you. Hissing, he stood up quickly.

“I'll be right back.”

Trying to calm your breath, you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling in your aching body. A knowing smile played on your lips; Baekhyun would rather get a cold shower then another orgasm from you, just because he was worried about you. If that wasn't some darn good self-control, you didn't know what it could be.

Just as he promised, he was back soon, a towel in his hands to help you clean up. Once done, he lied back down next to you and you immediately curled up by his chest. “That was amazing.”

“Hmm, you are amazing,” he said. After a little pause, he asked: “You feeling alright?”

“Perfect. But I could go again, you know? You don't have to be so careful with me.”

He snorted as he played with the ends of your hair. “Jeez, you already have my baby! Actually three of them! Slow down, woman.”

You both laughed heartily, and he loved the sound.

“But I want to have youuu, my love,” you whined.

“You have me. You always have me. I'm yours. I'm just simply yours.”

A/N: just to clarify, this isnt the end, we still have quite some things to get through actually - more drama ㅠㅠ! Just didnt want to leave you on a cliffhanger. Hope you liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Any feedback is very much appreciated  🥺 🥺

[musicnoots]

Honey, Hold On For Me

Shifty Powers/Reader

Prompt “The way I feel when I’m with you...” requested by anon

A/N: i’m sorry this took so long but i finally beat writers block and this present to you all... THIS!

Synopsis: You and Shifty begin to talk about the future—what lies ahead on your journey together and what happens when the story ends. 

Tags: @wexhappyxfew @junojelli @dumpofdumblings @bandofmarvels @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @floydtab @tvserie-s-world​ @yeahcurrahee​ @gottapenny​ @dustyjjumpwings​ @those-dusty-jump-wings​ @meteora-fc​ @rayleighshughes​ @medievalfangirl​ @majwinters​ @not-john-watsons-blog​ @alienoresimagines​ @david-weepster​ @higgles123​ @curraheev​

It’d been a long day, warm and breezy, honey-slow for a change. He was lucky enough to snag a moment for himself after weeks of fighting along the frontlines, briefly forgetting the sound of death and instead, his day was filled with you, humming a tune as you laid just mere inches away from him.

It was familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on it—he thinks it’s probably one of those Ella Fitzgerald songs he used to hear on the radio during those hot, summer nights back home at Clinchco. He rests against the trunk of the tree his body leans against, you’ve laid your head on his lap, eyes closed as his fingers became weaved within the strands of your hair—he thinks you look beautiful. The sun shines on your face so perfectly, it highlights your features so marvelously, the identity of the mystery tune no longer plagues his head but rather, replaced by another.

“I had a dream the other night.”

“Hm?” You glance up, unbothered.

Shifty fights the urge to shy away from the question. Instead, he rests his head against the tree his body leans against and brushes a stray hair from your face. “I had a dream...about us. We were married.”

You open your eyes, and the corners of your lips curved upwards. “We were?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “We lived in a beautiful house back at Clinchco—two stories, nice, big ol’ living room, and a cute little pupper waiting for us in the front yard. Don’t think we named ‘im, but we were married, darlin’. Wedding bands and everythin’.” The rings were gold, he remembers. He’d run his thumb over the metal when he takes your hand into his over the kitchen counter, early morning I love yous exchanged over hot coffee. Having you be a part of his life in the years to come just felt like the right thing to happen. “I guess...I guess it was everything I could’ve ever wished for.”

“Everything you could’ve ever wished for?” you echo back, asking if you had heard him right and he nods. 

“It was all so...perfect. It was the best dream I’ve had in a long time, and I still think about it, how...how wonderful everything was. And it just made sense, y’know, after all this war stuff, for me to go back home and settle down.” He looks down and hopes to see a look of agreement on your face, that maybe, you’d want to tag along with him in the end.

But of course, he doesn’t know what your post-war ambitions include. You’re young, you and Shifty both, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, he wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t feel like setting down just yet. If you wanted to travel the world, earn a university degree, reach for the highest stars in the sky, he’d promise that he’ll be by your side, even if it meant delaying his own plans until the time was right. Shifty doesn’t care where his future endeavors take him, he just knows that he’s meant to live them out with you. 

“I think at this point, we both deserve that,” you say, rolling on your side and smiling at him. You’re glad you both grasped a moment for yourselves because if this was the last time you’d see each other, this is the way you would spend it—in his arms, at ease. “I’m hopin’ I get to live long enough to live that, you know? I don’t even know if I’ll be lucky enough to see your face tomorrow, I’m stuck here savoring this moment between us here, so that I’ll have something to hold on to if either of us don’t make it.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but the words come stuck at his throat. When you put it like that, Shifty becomes more aware of the circumstances that surround the universe at this very moment, and he’s almost found himself with a change of heart, a revelation. He pulls his hand away from your hair and traces the shape of your eyebrow with his thumb. He wished he would have appreciated this moment as much as you did. “I...I never thought of it like that before...suppose our days together are numbered, and we don’t know how long it’s gonna last.”

“Life without you, I don’t even wanna think what that would look like, Darrell. I never wanna think about a world where you’re not in it. Guess I love you a lot, but I just wanna believe that we’d be together until the end of time. Physically, emotionally, spiritually…”

“Maybe the best we could do is to hold onto each other for as long we can,” he says. He’s not so sure else to say. He didn’t expect for this conversation to ever happen, but he thinks it was bound to happen anyways—fighting on in a war next to the person he loves, it was a conversation he should have been ready for, but he never knew how heavy it would be.

It’s a solemn evening. 

What began as a simple conversation of dreams and what ifs turned into a serious talk about life and death in a time where the next sunrise isn’t even guaranteed for every soul that long to see it. Shifty starts to think that maybe this conversation was meant to happen. He should have known that there might be a day where he would have to let go of you, go on with life as if you didn’t hold his heart with the gentlest hands—he realizes that he only wants to spend the rest of his own life with you. The first time he kissed you, behind the mess hall under the hot Georgia night, hair matted against your skin, he already knew there was no else he would rather spend life’s adventures with.

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask you,” he speaks again, “if you’d be okay livin’ the rest of forever with me. You don’t have to say yes.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t have to say yes?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna force you into making a decision for me—I know Clinchco ain’t exactly a town with a whole lot of opportunities,” he said, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “No matter what you say, I won’t love you any less. You could be halfway across the country doin’ ya own thing, and I’ll still be writing you love letters like I always do. Hopin’ they’ll nicer by then, but I can’t make a promises that they’ll be in any form extravagant.”

The speech smacks you across the face. You roll off his lap and plant your hand on the Earth to keep you steady. “Darrell...you really don’t have to—“

“But honey, I do mean it,” he interrupts. He bites his bottom lip and watches your expression, your eyebrows as they knit together in shock. “The way I feel when I’m with you...I just wanna feel it everyday, forever. I don’t care where in the world you take us, I just wanna be with you, Clinchco or not.”

“How come I don’t have to say yes?” you ask.

“‘Cause I know Clinchco ain’t the town for everyone, and I don’t know if you’d wanna settle down with some ol’ hillbilly like me. I know I can’t offer a whole lot to you. If you don’t wanna be seen with a fella like me, I understand, and I’ll still love you no matter what. And if you don’t wanna be with me no more, or if we can’t be together after this, just know that I would rather have you for the time we have right now than anyone else for the rest of my life.”

“Darrell…”

He gives you a sad smile. He means it.

You hold up a hand to his cheek and stroke the skin gently. “But I don’t know what I wanna do after all of this is over...we don’t even know when this is gonna end.”

“That’s alright, maybe we can think about it on the way…” He takes your hand and plants his lips on your palm. “I just needa know if you’re willing to spend the rest of eternity with...with me.”

For a fleeting moment, you’re motionless and Shifty’s smile starts to fade away with every passing second. He knows not to make a fuss about it, after all, he only wants what’s best for you, and he’ll be happy regardless of your decision. 

“Yeah.” You sit back on your haunches and take his face into your hands. “I do wanna spend it all with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pull him in for a kiss, his own hands resting on the curve of your back. He worries about his lips being chapped, but you’ve kissed him one too many times to even bother with that—it’s perfect every time.

He pulls away after a short moment. “I’m not guilting you, am I?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Never. I’m choosing to live it out with you, and wherever this world takes us—who knows? I’m not expecting anything lavish, dear. All I really want is to be by your side, and for you to be right by mine.”

He’s awestruck. “You really do mean it, do you?”

“I know this is where I’m supposed to be.” You sit yourself next to him with your back against the tree trunk and put your head on his shoulder. “This is where I’m meant to be…”

There’s only a few more hours left until the both of you are able to get some shut eye, the sun finally ends her descent below horizon to welcome the faint outline of the moon. Shifty thinks about his dream again, how it would be to sleep together in an actual bed, legs tangled beneath blankets, wedding bands resting on the nightstand nearby—he wonders if that’s exactly what the future has in store for him. In another world, he wouldn’t have to worry about making it out the war alive, rather, he’d just have to worry about how long you both can sleep in together until you feel the guilt seep in from your sides. 

He wraps his arms around you and watches as the shadows on the ground slowly blend into nothing, daylight fading away into the solemn darkness of the night. He feels content with what he has now and kisses the top of your head. You smile and squeeze his thigh, all too focused on enjoying the moment as it is.

For now, he would have to hold on for a little while longer. For the both of you. 

[boompowkablam]

Favorite Fic Rec- List # 3

WALKING DEAD LIST

Just a list of some of my favorite stories. I’m gonna act like I remember how to link stuff it will be great. Pairings are going to be Daryl/Glenn and Daryl/Jesus. Maybe a Daryl/Rick thrown in IDK .

     How These Days Grow Long  By Never_Says_Die

This work is COMPLETE!

Written in response to a prompt on The Walking Dead kink meme:

Rick & Co. are finding it increasingly difficult to deal with Daryl's outbursts, his racist remarks, and easily-ignitable temper.  They are in fact, considering just cutting their losses and telling him he has to leave when they come across another group of survivors...one of whom is very, very special to Daryl.

AU in which Glenn and Daryl have been in a relationship for a few years before the ZA, and were separated when Atlanta was overrun.  Each think the other is dead, and Glenn ended up with a different group of survivors while Daryl ended up in the quarry camp.  Story also assumes Merle would've turned his back on Daryl for getting involved with Glenn, so they parted ways long ago.

Action , Adventure, Love , Suspense,Sadness,Longing, Its just everything you want from a fic. Word count 100,538. Pairing Daryl/Glenn

     The Diary of Glenn By  ornategrip

Seasons 1 and 2, as seen through Glenn's diary.

This is so funny I love it! I wish I could make a podfic for it like whoa.

Word count 4,938. Pairing Daryl/Glenn

     Ghosts Among Us  By  TWDObsessive

Daryl sees the dead.  Not the walkers, the twice-dead once they become ghosts.  It started since the turn and he assumes it’s his body’s reaction to the walker infection they all carry.  One by one he experiences losses of loved ones and each of them come to visit him.   And they all seem to be guiding him to Rick.

This was really good but also really sad to me. Mind the tags so you don’t read something upsetting . Word count 6,422. Pairing Daryl/Rick

     Picking Up the Pieces  By  Riastarstruck

When Rick works night duty while recovering from the shooting, he becomes friends with Daryl, the young guy working community service as a janitor in lieu of prison time.

"If you found an animal in an alley and it was raining and you approached it, it would try to bite you. But if you could get it inside and feed it and take it somewhere warm, it would follow you forever. He's got that kind of vibe to him." -Norman Reedus on Daryl Dixon

This one is cute but also makes me feel sad even though it’s not sad.

Word count 21,161. Pairing Daryl/Rick

     While the World Falls Down  By  oleanderedits @oleanderedits​

They were supposed to have ten days to dispute the quickie wedding they'd had the night they'd been drunk. The world went to shit three days later. Part 1 of a series re-write focusing on Glenn, Daryl, Merle, and Maggie as what it means to be 'Family' is stretched, twisted, and redefined by circumstances no one should have to live through. Covers Seasons 1 and 2 and mostly follows the canon storyline.

This is hands down 100% my absolute favorite walking dead fic. It is so good I have read it so many times now. I seriously can not get enough of it.

Word count 48,284. Pairing Daryl/Glenn , Glenn/Maggie , Daryl/Maggie , Daryl/Glenn/Maggie.

     Friction Match  By  vegarin

It's the end of the world. You can be anyone you choose to be."  Daryl Dixon, at the end of the world.

I am not sure what it is about this story that makes me love it so much! I am working on a podfic for it right now so at some point I’ll have a link up for that.

Word Count 24,769. Gen no Paring.

     Fall Into Your Arms. By  doctorkaitlyn @banshee-cheekbones

“I am done with dating.  And I mean it this time.”

Glenn is sick of his friends setting him up.  He’s sick of going on bad dates and he’s sick of getting his hopes up and never hearing anything back.  In all the time he spends not going on dates, he can do things that he actually enjoys, like sleeping or marathoning a television show or trying to find a better job.

He is done with dating.  Seriously.

At least, that's what he says before he meets Daryl.

This is so cute and awkward I love Glenn’s bad luck.

Word Count 4,549. Pairing Daryl/Glenn

     Dear Mr. Hawkeye  By  Psmith73 

@psmith73

AU. Glenn is a struggling student neck-deep in debts. One day while trying to earn some money he gets himself in serious trouble. An anonymous benefactor offers him help in return for weekly emails describing events of his life. Jean Webster's "Daddy-long-legs"/TWD fusion. COMPLETE.

This is really good I dont know why I want to say human disaster Glenn but im  gonna. I think its cause it references marvel hawkeye but also Glenn kind of is.

Word Count 20,552. Pairing Daryl/Glenn.

something keeps pulling me back to you  By  wardeness

 Daryl Dixon sat on the steps of his porch, elbows resting on knees as he sharpened his knife. Katydids called around him in a chorus of chirping crickets, the sound only interrupted by the rhythmic scratch of metal on stone. The heavy air—a sure sign rain was coming, Daryl predicted—felt moist and honeyed against his bare arms. The evening was calm. Peaceful, even.

 Peaceful, that was, until Jesus appeared.

AU after 6x11. Slow burn.

Super cute .Super fluff.

Word Count 64,037 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

Daryl's Addiction By  DestielHardcoreLove @bugandkitlove

Paul had no clue what was going on.  It seemed as if every time he turned a corner he would find Daryl on his knees with someone different from the community.  He didn't know what to make of it, what to even think but he did wonder how to get on it himself.

This was just really funny to me. Instead of talking I’m gonna make sure you catch me blowing the town.

Word Count 7,702. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

  Against the Dying of the Light  By   LottaCharlene

After escaping Terminus, Rick's family is at their strength's end. When the walls of yet another community loom over their heads, they must decide if they take the risk to seek refuge in this new community. They are met with a strange tradition that they are still willing to follow through for the sake of their family's well-being. Soon enough, they realize that they found a place that they could call home again. But the peace is treacherous and yet again they have to fight for their freedom and the lifes of the people they love.

Unexpectedly, Daryl is the one that has to fight for more than just his family.

So very good and sweet and sad and Gregory is a nut sac but you already knew that. Also I fucking love arranged marriage fics.

Word Count 108,454. Pairing Daryl/Jesus.

 Ripples on a Black Shore  By  Mugatu

For Daryl Dixon the world ended days before it did for almost everyone else, and it was heralded with a prerecorded phone message instead of a bang.

An AU fic where Daryl met Paul several years before the apocalypse.

Kind of sad but with a happy ending.

Word Count 200,540. Pairing Daryl/Jesus.

 Cross Your Fingers  By  starclipped

Daryl finds himself wrapping his fingers around Paul’s wrist before a bandage can be pulled from the tattered box. And Paul peers at him when their skin touches, fierce eye to fierce eye, with… with such veneration. Daryl wouldn’t know that feeling if he saw it, he thinks he’s seeing it now and he can’t believe it, but he can sure as hell feel it; rolling off his hippie ninja in waves, seeping into Daryl’s soul. A gasoline soaked rag, simply waiting to be set aflame. That's what he's become. He swallows the foreign emotions that suddenly make him feel too big for his body.

So very good and kind of sad worth the read for sure!

Word Count 204,186. Pairing Daryl/Paul

 Finders, Keepers  By  Joel7th

Jesus came to Alexandria to do trade and to see a certain grumpy hunter. However, he didn’t see said hunter; instead, just outside the walls of Alexandria he found a black cat – wait, was that really a cat?!

I found this so funny!

Word Count 10,148 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 All you need is twinkling stars and ancient cities  By TooRational  @toorational

Daryl Dixon of all people turns out to have the Ancient gene.

Go figure.

Or: The unlikely tale of a redneck from Earth and a Runner from the Pegasus Galaxy, and how they fell in love.

I fucking love Stargate Atlantis Crossovers and this was amazing !!!!

Word Count 16,454. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 Help Wanted  By  Scababagorn

Daryl Dixon hasn't believed that he deserved to be who he really is. He hasn't ever felt safe enough. Is the reason that so many of the people he loves are dead. And then, suddenly there is a man named Jesus. And he likes to call Daryl "Dixie"

Cute,cute, cute I love it!!

Word Count 22,618. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 if the world should break  By  transstevebucky @gaydaryl

It's not like Daryl hates the guy. It's exactly the opposite.

Very cute. Be mindful of the tags daryl gets outed without his permission.

Word Count 36,343. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 Misunderstandings in a Car Crash By  Neeka

Misunderstanding. [mis-uhn-der-stan-ding]

Noun 1. Failure to understand correctly; mistake as to meaning or intent

Warning: Does not mix well with love and may lead to heartbreak

Dude like super sad face for like half of this but it gets less sad .

Word Count 18,614 Pairing Daryl/Jesus.

 Breaking the Cycle  By  AidaRonan @bisexualstarbucky

Daryl's life seems to follow a cycle of pain and violence. So when he starts falling for his new roommate, he's more than wary about what it might mean.

But sometimes breaking a cycle means making a choice.

So very cute a little sad also be mindful of the tags.

Word Count 7,416 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 Fables of the Reconstruction By  Mugatu

It’s more than two years after the end of the world and six months after the war with the Saviors when Daryl Dixon returns to Alexandria.

This is just so good holy crap and glenn lives which makes it even better!!

Word Count 91,918.  Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 You're Like Me (a goddamn idiot)  By  yellowhairedrobot

Jesus tilted his head to the side. “If I tried to kiss you right now, would you kick my ass?”

“Yes,” Daryl answered, way too quickly.

This is funny and gives me extreme second hand embarrassment.

Word Count 6,395. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 the streets are full of strangers  By  smilebackwards @smilebackwards

When Deanna asks Daryl to leave Alexandria, he meets Paul on the road a little earlier.

I would like to say cute-meet . lol its very good and very cute.

Word Count 11,563 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

There is also a podfic for this.

     [Podfic] the streets are full of strangers  By  Boompowkablam   @boompowkablam

Length 1hr 7 mins

  a heart that's on loan  By  smilebackwards @smilebackwards

Aaron and Daryl discover Hilltop on one of their scouting trips and find that the community has an interesting throwback custom for establishing alliances: marriage.

I LOVE ARRANGED MARRIAGE AND THIS IS THE BEST ONE!

Word Count 11,686.  Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 Just Another Day  By  PezzieCoyote                   

What if Daryl was the one in charge? How would things be different? And what secret is he hiding?

Supernatural elements you know besides the zombies .

Word Count 9,950. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

  Escape  By   AbigailHT, TooRational  @toorational @abigailht

  By the time the song starts drilling into his head worse than the headache, he's come to the conclusion that he can't do much.  There's no way to get out unless someone unlocks the door, and even if he could, he has no idea where he'd go once he's out anyway. Nor has he any idea who has him. Or why. Or where. Or where home is. Or—Basically, he doesn't know anything, and even the things he does know are mostly instinct and completely unverifiable anyway.He's contemplating sitting back down again — he'll have to do it at some point, if only to preserve his strength, but the cold, and the dirt, and he's naked, his skin crawls at the mere thought — when the song shuts off abruptly.

Or: The Saviors' latest prisoner isn't quite what he seems.

Its just like everything you ever wanted out of Jesus in the show. So good a tiny bit sad.

Word Count 6,894. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

There is a podfic for this.

  Escape  By  Boompowkablam @boompowkablam

Length  45 minutes.

[cagestark]

Hi! Im not sure if you are taking prompts, but if not pls just ignore this (I LOVE YOUR STUFF ANYWAY UR GREAT ❤️❤️❤️) What about a PrisonInmate!Tony, PrisonInmate!Steve and PrisonInmate!Bucky all trying to get their hands on freshly employed Officer!Peter who was just trying to do his job. Smut? Shenanigans? Lots of good/bad/cheesy flirting? Anything would make me so happy!!!

Hope this works for what you wanted. I had a lot of fun, feel free to hop in my inbox and let me know if you’re satisfied. I tried working Steve in but :( still not very good at writing him. Bucky is a stretch for me, too. Did what I could though! Especially considering I scrapped what I had, wrote this in 10 hours, and didn’t even glance it over skskskks sorry for errors.

Warnings: some violence, smut, drugs. 7.5k. Peter is 22!

Read here on AO3!

-

The first time Tony meets Officer Parker, Tony is shackled at the waist and ankles to eleven other inmates from Lincoln Correctional Facility. He reaches up with bound wrists to scrub at his facial hair hoping that he isn’t as scruffy as he feels, eyeing the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed little twink who would be driving them twenty minutes to a nearby park There they would be giving restitution to society by picking up plastic soda bottles, cigarette butts, and used condoms from under the dugout benches at the baseball diamond. Thinking of the millions of dollars he stole from his father’s company (plenty of which was still offshore and safe), Tony figures that a week of this and his debt will be repaid. He and society can call it even.

“He’s green,” Bucky mutters from beside him. He tracks the younger man’s pale eyes to Officer Twink. “No question about it.”

“Hey Fury,” Tony says when the black officer goes by, doing a head count. He motions with his bound hands to Parker. “I didn’t know it was bring-your-white-child-to-work-day. Are his legs long enough to reach the pedals in the van? Does he have his permit? Where did you leave his Hot Wheels battery-powered jeep? Will we all fit in the back, because—”

“Pushing your luck,” mutters Steve from Tony’s other side, goody-fucking-two-shoes that he is.

Fury stops walking, actually doubles back to stand in front of him. “You want me to drag you out of line, Stark? You can spend the rest of your day inside washing dishes. Or in solitary, if you feel like being an asshole like usual. Don’t fucking test me,” Fury says. He’s a real hard-ass. Tony likes him well enough.

Beyond them, Officer Parker is blushing to beat the band having heard Tony’s criticism of him. “I’m twenty-two,” he mutters, and Tony nearly groans. Beside him, Bucky does groan. This kid is so, so fucking green. What kind of dummy correctional officer just spills personal information in front of convicted felons?

The harder inmates are going to eat him alive.

If Tony doesn’t eat him first.

“Twenty-two huh? When’s your birthday, sweetheart?” Tony calls. “I’ll drop a postcard in the mail for you—"

He hears the slide of chrome on leather as Fury draws his baton. Tony has just enough time to be thankful it’s not his taser before it is jabbing him in the chest. With his feet and wrists shackled, he has no real way to keep himself upright. He ends up sprawled ass first in the dirt. Steve and Bucky have to adjust to avoid falling themselves and likely taking the whole line down with them.

“Did you just threaten Officer Parker, Stark?” Fury asks, bending over him.

Tony squints up against the sun. “If my heartfelt affection is threatening, then—”

“One more word and you’re spending the week on D Block.” D Block is solitary confinement, and if there is anything more painful to Tony, he doesn’t know what it is. Being alone with his thoughts, no one there to fill the silence, walls so thick he can’t even hear the shouts from other inmates around him—it’s enough to drive him to the edge. He folds.

“Parker,” Fury barks. “Give me your keys. Stark isn’t coming on the field trip.”

“How else am I going to repay society?” Tony asks, holding up his wrists so Fury can unchain him out of the line. Fury doesn’t dignify him with an answer, and it’s probably for the best. Words tend to pour out of Tony’s mouth without thought even at the best of times. And he really isn’t looking for spending the first week of Officer Parker’s employment up on D Block getting his trays through the slot in the door.

While Fury undoes the locks with practiced ease, Parker stands back practically wringing his hands. He looks distraught, downright upset to be honest. When he catches Tony looking, the kid turns red and looks away. God. Fucking adorable.

Tony glances up at Bucky who is looking straight ahead with the smuggest fucking smirk. He winks at Parker and the kid literally has to turn away, probably before he has a stroke, because Bucky is a good-looking guy. And he’s going to spend the entire week, eight hours a day picking up trash while being supervised by Officer Twink.

“You lucky bastard,” Tony says to him.

-

“Bucky’s probably got him bent on all fours in one of the dugout’s right now,” Tony mutters unhappily around an unlit cigarette. They aren’t supposed to smoke inside—it’s against the rules, actually, not just frowned upon—but in times of anxiety, he likes the familiarity of it between his lips. He picks up his dealt cards from the table and glances at them: a straight. Not bad.

“Should have kept your mouth shut,” Toomes says from across the table. His joy at Tony’s dismay is poorly disguised behind his own hand. “That’d be you, right now. Picking up trash in Manhattan. The highlight of your day getting your dick sucked in a dugout littered with caramel corn and old wads of chewing gum. God, how the mighty fall.”

“Could be you right now, too,” Tony offers genially. “But those domestic violence charges mean you don’t even get the chance to go on field trips, huh?”

“Not to mention,” Rhodes says from beside him, a dark-skinned man with a generally unhappy face, and serious disposition. He was one of the only people on the block that Tony genuinely trusted—that sort of trust was hard earned. They’d even exchanged addresses so they could communicate after one or the other gets processed out. “No guard would risk their job for a suck job with you, Toomes.”

“Brutal,” Tony says, holding out his hand to shake Rhodes’s. “True, but absolutely brutal.”

“Thanks,” Rhodey says dryly. “Is someone going to call, or what?”

Toomes ends up storming off, leaving his hand flat on the table. When Tony flips it over, he only had one pair. Unfortunate bastard.

“He’s going to give you problems, Tony,” Rhodey says. His dark eyes are still tracking Toomes who is sulking across the floor back to his cell, where he stands in the doorway, scanning the room. “He’s not showing you respect, and he’s not meshing well with the block. It’s going to come to a head soon.”

“Is this foreshadowing?” Tony asks lazily.

Rhodey just stares.

-

Tony is dozing in his cell when a large form takes up the doorway. He slits his eyes open to see Bucky there, fresh from a shower with his jumpsuit half-undone and tied around his waist. The white wifebeater he wears shows off his arms, including the gnarly scars on his left shoulder from his last tour overseas. It clings to skin that is still a little wet, and Tony licks his lips.

“Hey snowflake,” he says, voice raspy. “Come to rub it in?”

Bucky sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the concrete wall. “His name is Peter. He graduated from the academy last May. This is his first job—if you don’t count the food joint he worked at as a kid. And his birthday is August tenth.”

Tony scoffs. “What, you didn’t get his social security number too? I’m disappointed. And I don’t believe you.”

Bucky holds up a scarred hand, solemn. “Swear on my tags.”

“How the hell could you have found out so much about the kid in a handful of hours? With Fury marching around no less.”

The smile that slides over Bucky’s face is so fucking handsome. Downright sensual. “Fury didn’t come. He was just there for headcount. It was Coulson escorting us with the kid. He spent the whole time sitting in the van with the AC and radio on, chainsmoking. You’re going to shit yourself, Tony. This kid is so fucking sincere and sweet—” Bucky throws his voice into what must be a poor impression of Peter’s trembling voice. “—thanks Mister Barnes, you’ve been so friendly. I’m glad my first day was spent with you.”

“Aww fuck. Goddamnit. Son of a bitch.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re going to get your chance. He told me today was just to break him in. Tomorrow? He’s on the block. And don’t worry, I put in a good word for you. My friend Tony, I said, he’s one of the most solid guys I know. Arrogant as fuck, but a sweetheart underneath the ten different layers of ego and narcicism.”

Tony’s eyes shut. His hands come together in a prayer position over his chest. “Oh thank you, sweet Jesus.”

“Thank me,” Bucky says, wiggling his eyebrows.

In the back of the cell is a curtain that can be drawn shut while an inmate uses the facilities. It’s where most sex happens during the daytime, when anyone is liable to walk by and glance into a cell. Tony jerks a thumb at it. “You want to see what lies behind curtain number one, Buck?”

“Sure. I’m feeling lucky.”

-

Showers open at dawn, and Tony is one of the first inmates there. He takes extra time soaping himself up in the lukewarm water. By the time trays are brought in, he is dressed with his hair combed. The tank top he wears is white as is required for all clothes that aren’t jumpsuits, and it looks good against his tanned skin. Tony looks fucking good for his age—which is somewhere past thirty and before fifty, thanks, don’t worry about it.

He’s halfway through a tray of biscuits and gravy with more-than-decent hash-browns when Officer Parker comes in, the door of the block screeching open. He’s escorted again by Coulson. They tend to keep senior officers with green ones, because it’s so easy for the new guys to fall prey to inmates, whether by manipulation, intimidation, or sheer manpower. Tony has seen it happen. Tony has caused it, himself. He didn’t end up as the top guy in the block by shaking hands and kissing ass.

Coulson points out things around the block: the cells (obvious), the showers, the cameras. Tony isn’t close enough to hear what’s being said, but he can imagine. Guards come in every hour during the day and every two hours at night to stroll around the block peaking into cells. Even when they aren’t a physical presence on the floor, they are always watching behind the cameras. That will be Peter’s job today: walking the floor. Every sixty minutes, he’ll walk right by Tony in his cute little dress blues. They look too clingy to be at all efficient, especially on Peter’s lithe little form, narrow hips barely able to support the holster on his waist.

Peter turns around and Tony gets a nice glimpse of his ass—God, he wants to bite it.

Bucky looks less enthusiastic today, hair pulled back into a wet bun, dark circles under his eyes. They’d slept in the same bunk last night, but when he’d awoken in the morning, Bucky had been gone. Nightmares, probably. “Now who’s the lucky bastard?” he mumbles around his fork.

Tony. Tony is the lucky bastard.

When Coulson and Peter go by, Tony calls out, face wearing a winning smile. “Good morning, officers.”

“Good morning,” Peter says sweetly. When he notices that it is Tony who spoke, his eyes double in size. Obviously, Tony has already made an impression. He plants his chin on his palm, elbow resting on the table, and lets his eyes rove over the green boy. Unashamed is his middle name.

“Inmate number one to watch out for, Parker,” Coulson says. But Tony thinks there’s a little affection underneath the vacant expression. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“I’m hurt, Phil,” Tony says. “Really hurt.”

“Stark is here for fraud, and he’s a master manipulator.”

“That’s better—stroke my ego, Phil. I love it. Go on.”

Coulson looks unimpressed. “Give him a wide berth.”

Peter nods obediently. His eyes trail over to Bucky and he lights up, squinting with a smile liable to outshine the sun. “Good morning Bucky! How are you?”

Coulson looks liable to have a fucking stroke. Lips twitching, Bucky salutes. “Doing great, sweet thing, how about yourself?”

“Can’t complain,” Peter says, blushing prettily.

Coulson ends up having to drag him off. Tony can’t imagine the dressing down he’s going to be receiving once they’re in private. Actually, he can, and it’s an image he cherishes. It wouldn’t hurt for the sweet kid to have some sense knocked into him by the other guards—before one of the inmates knocks it into him for them. The thought makes Tony’s fist clench around his fork. If anybody is knocking anything into Peter, it will be him. And Bucky. Preferably at the same time.

“You can hold him down,” Tony says lowly to Bucky across the table. “I’d like to see your thick arms wrapped around him. He looks like a squirmer, so sensitive. You can keep him still with nowhere to go, sitting on your cock, and I’ll suck him off. I bet he cries.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, eyes half-lidded. He makes a stabbing motion with his plastic fork. “Or I’ll end up in the bathroom at the park beating off.”

“I like the thought of that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t.”

-

The next time Peter comes around, he is alone. Tony, Toomes, and some of the other guys are sitting around the table playing poker.

“Afternoon gentlemen,” Peter says cordially. Tony is immediately smitten—the kid is trying so hard to be a Big Boy. It’s so fucking endearing. All Tony wants to do is drag the kid by the belt to the nearest cell and suck him off.

“Afternoon, handsome,” Tony says.

“I hope there’s no gambling going on,” Peter says, his arms cross across his chest. Jesus, his arms are skinny but fucking built, muscles straining beneath the cuffs of his shirt. There’s strength there. He’s reminded suddenly that this kid did pass the academy, so he does have some training under his belt.

“Gambling is against the rules, officer,” Tony says brightly. He takes the cigarette from behind his ear, hands desperate for something to do, and tucks it between his lips. “Do we look like rule breakers to you?”

Peter shakes the hand of each man around the table. Tony would have to be blind not to see the looks he’s garnering: incredulity, attraction, calculation. Toomes looks like he’s about to cream his jumpsuit when his rough hand wraps around Peter’s soft, tiny one. The look he shoots Tony is smug.

“Do I get a handshake, Officer?” Tony asks sweetly as the kid is trying to make his escape.

He looks at Tony’s hand like it is a trap. Tony softens.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong before,” he says gently. “I just want to say, Welcome to LCF.”

Peter takes his hand. It is just as soft and smooth as it looks, but the grip is strong and firm, and Tony feels irrational pride—look at this little boy standing up to him, so fucking fearless. He makes sure to keep the handshake simple and wholesome, even though it hurts to let go. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, he agrees.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” the kid breaths and fuck. That goes right to his cock.

“You’re quite welcome,” he purrs.

-

The guards work 2-2-3’s, predictably. That means that Peter will have two day shifts, two days off, three night shifts, two days off, two day shifts, three days off, so on and so forth. The next two days with no Peter to look forward to and Bucky spending the 9 to 5 picking up trash are some of the dullest he’s ever had. Rhodey is the only consolation. They spend a lot of their time watching television together or playing chess.

And nights are spent with Bucky. They take turns topping, pressing each other into the mattress and muttering a litany of dirty prose in each other’s ears. Peter makes a lot of appearances in their repertoire, and some of the best orgasms Tony’s had in ages come from imagining him walking into his cell someday to find Bucky sucking off Officer Parker, or the other way around.

Sometimes, Tony has to go behind the curtain in his cell and pretend he’s taking a shit, when in reality he is jerking off to the thought. Popping a boner during poker isn’t exactly welcome.

The night shifts aren’t ideal. From 6 pm to 6 am, Peter will come in to walk the floor, shining light into cells to make sure everything is up to code. There isn’t as much time for conversation, but Tony figures he’ll be happy to spend the night awake in his buck just for the glimpses of Peter he’ll get. God, he’s fucking worked up over this kid. Mr. Stark, he called him. Jesus.

When Peter comes in at six, it is to general greeting suffused with catcalls. His face turns red as a tomato, but he smiles, looking pleased by the comradery.

“Hey doll,” Bucky says when he strolls by. Trays came in a few minutes prior, so they are eating. Salisbury steak tonight, disgusting—but the gravy isn’t half bad. Peter waves, coming over.

“Hi Mr. Barnes. Hi Mr. Stark.”

“It’s Tony, sweetheart,” Tony says. “Even Coulson calls us by our first names. You can do it too.”

“T-Tony,” Peter stutters.

“Say it again,” Tony purrs. “You need to get your practice in now.”

Bucky kicks him under the table. “You’re going to give him an aneurysm. Sorry Pete—Tony is a bit of a horn dog. He’s what the kids call thirsty.”

Peter laughs, hiding his smile behind his hand. “Yeah, I could have guessed. Is he like this with everybody?”

Tony goes to open his mouth, but is stopped by the increased pressure on the arch of his foot by Bucky’s boot under the table. When he glances over, Bucky looks earnest, serious. He puts a scarred hand over his heart. “No sir. Swear on my service tags. You’ve got us all smitten.”

Peter melts. He bites his lip, casting Tony a shy but warm glance. “I—you guys are so nice. I better get back to—yeah—”

They both watch Peter’s ass as he walks away.

“You smooth motherfucker. I need to start taking a page out of your book,” Tony mutters. He rubs his ankle softly against Bucky’s. It’s the most affection they’re willing to give each other out on the floor. Affection is weakness here, and as the guy who runs the floor, Tony knows he has a big target on his chest. He’d rather not make it any bigger. For him, or for Bucky.

-

It’s nearing ten PM. Lights go out at 9:30, and while not everyone is asleep, the raucous gatherings are contained to individual cells.

Like Tony’s. He is biting his knuckles, panting as Bucky sucks him off. They’ve spent the last hour cuddling in the bunk, running their hands over each other, muttering dirty things between them. He’s been hard for the better part of that hour, and it’s only now that Bucky has shown mercy on him, tugging him up to sit on the edge of the bunk, knees spread wide. He rucks up Tony’s wifebeater over his abs and chest to rub a thumb at one of his nipples, causing his cock to jump.

“Let’s give a show, baby, huh?” Bucky whispers before swallowing him down. Tony jolts, barely managing to cut off the groan that builds up in his throat.

Bucky gives head with enthusiasm and without shame, probably because he looks so fucking hot without his inhibitions, and he knows it. Eyes closed like Tony’s cock is the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his mouth, Bucky drools and chokes himself, sometimes pressing Tony’s cock up so that he can mouth at the older man’s balls, taking them into his mouth one at a time.

Tony holds off his orgasm for as long as he can. He loves this, loves how aroused Bucky gets from sucking cock, whining around it, one hand reaching between his own legs to jerk himself off.

Then comes the light. It blinds Tony whose eyes are accustomed to the darkness. He gasps, jerking backwards in horror at being caught, but Bucky’s hands grab his hips and wrench him forwards, taking him deeper.

There comes a gasp, high and effeminate.

Peter.

The flashlight fumbles and clicks off, but Tony doesn’t hear the footsteps move away. His eyes readjust to the darkness, and he sees Peter’s form standing in the doorway, one hand up to press against his mouth.

Bucky chokes himself, swallowing around the head of Tony’s cock, and something about being watched—being watched by Peter—has Tony gasping, fisting Bucky’s long hair and fucking into his throat as he cums. He barely manages to keep his eyes open through the pleasure, because now he can just make out the dim form of features on Peter’s face, eyes half-closed, and knuckles clutched between his teeth.

He likes what he sees.

“Jesus, baby,” Tony whispers, stroking Bucky’s hair. The man stands up, pants slung to his ankles, fisting his naked cock furiously. The low cots mean that when he cums with a groan, he stripes Tony’s chest with it, and he loves it, fucking loves marking and being marked by Bucky. “You wanted to give Peter a show, huh?”

The sound Peter makes is tortured. He turns and nearly sprints away, perfunctorily walking down the rest of the cells, glancing in to make sure no one is smoking or hoarding blankets or any other thing.

They sit side by side on the bunk, panting.

“All part of the plan, handsome,” Bucky mutters, pressing a tender kiss to Tony’s forehead.

-

“Petey came to my cell last night,” Toomes says the next day. The guard on duty is in Tony’s palm, so Tony smokes unabashedly and without fear of repercussions, flicking his ash in a neat pile next to him, because littering isn’t cool.

He isn’t sure what his facial expression says, but he hopes its as stony and unbelieving as he feels. “Good for you, Toomes. Did you finally get that suck job you wanted?”

The other man scoffs, waving away Tony’s accusations. “He’s too skittish for that. But he saw me reading. Frankenstein. Did you know he’s a big reader, Tony?”

Tony didn’t know. He tries not to let it show how rankled it makes him, that there is any part of Peter that this vulture has picked off before Tony or Bucky.

“Maybe you can start a book club,” Tony suggests.

Beside him, Rhodey snorts into his cards.

-

“He’s full of shit, Tony. You know that,” Bucky soothes. He’s sitting on Tony’s cot, freshly showered, watching Tony pace, cigarette clutched between his lips. The younger man is getting a tan from his time spent out in the sun picking up trash. For a fair skinned, fair eyed man, he tans surprisingly well. Tony certainly appreciates the aesthetic.

“He’s not. Not about this, at least,” Tony mutters. “Peter waved to him tonight at dinner when you were getting your tray. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look at Toomes with a pleasant expression. I can’t unsee it.”

“You poor thing,” Bucky says, sounding not at all sympathetic. “Look, the kid’s worked here for three days. This is his fourth fucking shift. Seduction takes time. You always do this—if something you want doesn’t fall into your lap right away, you get mopey. Where’s the Tony you always talk about, the one who had patience, who worked hard to reap rewards?”

“Worked real hard to reap my dad’s money, you’ve got that right,” Tony mutters. “You suck at pep talks, snowflake.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Then how about I just console you?”

Tony takes the cigarette from his mouth and points it at him. “Now you’re talking.”

-

It’s nearing two in the morning. Peter has been by a handful of times, face red when he glances into their cell. Bucky and Tony jerked each other off hours ago—shame he missed it—and have spent the rest of the evening sitting on the cot talking. Bucky does push-ups. Tony admires the view.

“I’m out of smokes,” Bucky says. He means pot—Tony doesn’t partake, but on night when Bucky does, sleeps easier and wakes more rested. “I need more papers.”

“I got ‘em baby.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony can get anything into prison. It’s about greasing the guards—and he makes sure to know which ones squeak and which ones don’t. Then he keeps them well, well lubricated. Whenever someone needs something (matches, drugs, porn, other contraband), Tony is the guy who gets it. But he’s not dumb enough to be the guy who keeps it. That’s on the straw men Tony keeps around the block. One houses the rolling papers. Another has the pot. There’s a cellphone in the cell beside Tony. And if there are shakedowns with guards Tony doesn’t have under his thumb, those men agree to take the fall, and Tony agrees to make it up to them.

It’s late and dark, most people actually asleep now. Tony feels his way down to the cells to the guy who’s housing the papers for joints. The guy snores to wake the dead, but Tony doesn’t care, letting himself in and going to the designated location.

It’s on his way back that he hears the noise.

Voices.

He’d ignore them—some guys will stay up all night talking—but one of those voices is too high.

It’s panicked, too.

Breathing heavier, he takes care to muffle his steps. He isn’t wearing shoes, and that makes him vulnerable in a fight, but he’s held his own in worse situations. The element of surprise will be instrumental in coming out on top—if he needs to. Keeping his breaths quiet, he follows the sounds to the showers, empty but still smelling damp and faintly of soap.

It’s definitely Peter’s voice.

There are windows here that let in the moonlight. Tony stands in the shadow of the doorway, watching and listening.

“Come on, Adrian, quit—”

“You come on, Petey. I’ll make it good for you. It’s got to be tough, being around all the men on the block, being flirted with all the time. Gets a kid hot and bothered I bet, huh? You’re a hot little thing. I saw the way you looked at me last night. I’m here for you, honey. You can use me—”

“I don’t want to. I could lose my job.”

“I’ll take it to the grave, Pete, I swear.”

Peter is pressed against the tiled wall between two showerheads. Adrian is pinning him there with his body, and the size difference is drastic. Peter is so fucking tiny and frail looking, eyes huge and frightened, hands clenching and unclenching even though he has a fucking weapon, come on Pete, pull your baton, your taser, your fucking gun—

Adrian’s hand drifts from where it’s caressing Peter’s jaw. It presses against his chest, fingering the buttons down Peter’s dress blues, and then palms the young man’s cock.

Tony sees red. He wishes he had the shiv he keeps hidden on the floor, but there’s no time to search for it in the dark, and he can make do without it anyway. Get Adrian down and then pull Peter’s baton, beat Toomes again and again and again until the man eats his meals through a straw or not at all.

“I said no, Toomes.” Peter grabs the man’s wrist and twists it expertly. With a strength Tony didn’t know could be contained in such a tiny form, he switches their positions to press Toomes’s face into the wall, grinding it against the tiles. The man struggles but Peter is holding strong, lithe little muscles bulging as he kicks the man’s legs apart so he can’t get proper leverage to push him away. Then he grabs his cuffs, and in a heartbeat, the larger man is subdued. “I tried to be nice, didn’t I? No means no, asshole.”

He wrenches Toomes away from the wall and they both turn to see Tony standing there. They all look at each other, mouths open. Then Tony lifts his hands and brings them together softly, a standing ovation.

“I’m not going to lie,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little hard right now.”

Peter scowls. “Not now, Tony. Go press the button to let the other guards know I need help.”

“No can do, sweet thing. But it looks like you’ve got it covered for yourself.”

Peter does, frog marching Toomes across the floor and out of the Block. Tony watches it all with an incredulous expression. And a chub. Even after they’re gone, he stands on the quiet, dark floor, pondering what he’s seen. When Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder, Tony nearly jumps out of his own skin.

“What happened?” he asks. “Was that Peter I heard?”

“Oh Buck. You won’t believe this yarn I’m going to spin you.”

-

Toomes doesn’t return to the block. More than likely, he is shifted to another block with more violent offenders. They tend to group inmates based on the charges against them and their charge history. Tony wonders what exactly he’ll be charged with now. Attempted assault of a police officer? It sounds delicious. Whatever the punishment, it will be too good for him.

Bucky is torn up. Coming home from war has left him sensitive to certain aggressions, and he often feels things too keenly. Takes things too personally. “No means no,” he says, voice thick, faced press into Tony’s neck as he holds him. “Why don’t people listen? No means no.”

“We know that. They know that too. They just don’t care, baby. We’ll see Pete tomorrow and find out how he’s doing.”

Bucky lifts his head. His eyes are cloudy and distant “Tell me again how he roughed up Toomes.”

“With pleasure,” Tony purrs. “He’s so goddamn petite, but his hiding some serious muscles under that uniform. God, it had me worked up, the way he knocked Toomes’s legs apart. The snap of the cuffs. When we get out of here, snowflake, we need to invest in a pair of those.”

Bucky snorts, but he looks pleased.

Part of Tony worried that Peter wouldn’t come in for his shift. He wouldn’t blame the kid; he’d almost been assaulted on the job. The guards had it tough. If it wasn’t sexual harassment, it was physical intimidation—the latter of which Tony himself had been guilty of. But he shouldn’t have underestimated their boy.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Peter says shyly. He’s got his hands on his narrow hips, but Tony knows that those fingers are long enough to wrap all the way around a man’s wrist, wrenching it back.

“How are you?” Bucky asks when Peter comes by.

Peter smiles, soft and gentle. “I’m okay, Bucky. How are you?”

“Better, now that I’ve seen your handsome face.”

Peter blushes, so susceptible to Bucky’s lines. Then he turns his eyes to Tony, and they grow colder. He barely nods recognition before strutting away. Tony can’t even appreciate the way the tight pants hug his ass, because he’s too busy with his mouth agape, jerking a thumb at the boy’s back and asking Bucky, “What did I do?”

-

That night they are waiting up for Peter the first time he makes his rounds. They decide to sit on the floor so as to be as non-threatening as possible (Peter went through a fucking ordeal yesterday, and they aren’t looking to add to his stress), Tony with his back against the edge of the cot and Bucky propped up against the wall, one foot flat on the floor and the other tickling Tony’s thighs. Yes, the bunks are that small.

As soon as Peter’s light shines in, Bucky calls for him gently.

Carefully, he steps into the room, shining the light towards the ceiling to cast a glow over all of them. His face is somber, but he smiles.

“Hey Bucky. What do you need?”

Bucky doesn’t beat around the bush. “We want to know if you’re really okay. Tony told me about Toomes. That guy’s a fucking piece of work. Hope some guys up on B Block crack his skull in—won’t be no skin off society’s nose.”

Peter shakes his head. “That’s not a good way to talk. That’s not justice. I’m doing fine—Toomes wasn’t hard to subdue.”

“You handled him like a pro,” Tony adds.

Peter’s look frosts over. “Like a police officer, yes. No thanks to you.”

Tony groans. “Is that why you’re mad at me? Because I wouldn’t go press the button for you, baby?”

“Don’t call me that. And yes. I thought we were—” Peter doesn’t finish. He blushes, obviously knowing how silly that sentence sounds: a CO being friends with an inmate. But it cuts Tony all the same, and Bucky’s look across the room is murderous.

“You didn’t try to get help? What the fuck, Tony.” His foot lashes out and catches Tony in the shin, and fuck that stings!

“I’m not a snitch,” Tony snaps.

“Look, I’ll leave you both to this—”

“I was going to handle it if Peter couldn’t—I was going to kill that son of a bitch. That’s how things work in here, you know that Bucky. This isn’t the military. There’s no honor or morals. There’s just rules, and the number one rule is no snitching. If there’s a problem, we handle it this way.”

Peter swallows. “Tony—you can’t just say that. I can’t—I’ve got to tell somebody that you said that, I think.”

“This place doesn’t have honor, but we do,” Bucky growls. “Or at least, I thought you did.”

“You know I’d have killed for him,” Tony says through his teeth. “Just like how I’d kill for you—”

“Would you fucking stop it?” Peter hisses. It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over them to hear him curse. His grip has gone white on his flashlight he’s so tense, lips pressed into a thin, furious line. “Why are you two doing this? Is it—is this just to, to fuck with me? I don’t get it, I—”

All the anger seeps out of him. He looks lost, tortured. Both of the angry men in front of him soften. What is it about this boy that melts them like wax under flame? Bucky shuffles up onto his knees, looking with his long hair like some knight from an old medieval story, begging for forgiveness of his fair lady.

“Pete, we didn’t mean to come on so strong. Please—will you sit for a bit?”

Peter glances back at the floor. It is dark and mostly quiet, some laughter coming from a cell further down the line. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “I need to do my job.”

“We won’t keep you here, if you want to leave. We aren’t like Toomes. But if you’re willing, we’d like to talk. Work this out.”

Looking torn, Peter sits. Tony and Bucky flank him, but the boy doesn’t look threatened in the slightest, just hunches himself over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Go ahead and talk,” he says.

“Bucky and I are together.”

Peter snorts. “I got that when I saw him sucking you off.”

Tony blinks. “Oh. Well that happens in here every now and again—some men will do anything in here for company, even if they don’t really swing that way on the outside. But Bucky and I—we’re pretty in love.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “He’s dumb. But I love him.”

Peter laughs a little. “Okay. Yeah. So you two are together.”

“We’re polyamorous,” Tony admits. “That means we have a lot of love to give and aren’t unopposed to giving it to multiple people at once. Bucky here, he’s got a boyfriend down the line, Steve—you know Steve?”

“I know Mr. Rogers. He seems nice.”

“He’s real nice,” Bucky smirks. “Our point here is that up until now, we’ve had passing flings with other people, but we’ve never shared anyone. We’ve never wanted to share anyone—until you. And now it’s like our stupidity has squared itself, because we both are falling over ourselves to try to attract you.”

He’s glad he’s letting Bucky take the lead. Tony might have a way with words, but Bucky absolutely has tact and softness that Tony can’t muster up in his wildest dreams. Peter is sitting between them looking red-faced but thoughtful. “So, what? You guys both want to date me?”

“We can’t exactly set up a table with a cloth and wine and dine you, princess,” Tony says. He tries to stay soft and honest, because his mother always used to say that honesty is the best policy. Peter looks like the kind of kid who would appreciate that. “As unfortunate as that is. I’ve got five months left on my sentence, and Bucky has almost double that. And as—what is it Bucky? Thirsty?—as thirsty as we both are, we understand that you wouldn’t want to put your job in jeopardy.”

Peter looks relieved by their admission. “I don’t really know how I feel, to be honest. You’re both—wow, you’re both really hot. Duh. But I don’t know you. Maybe I could get to know you? A little at a time? And once you’re out Tony, if I’m not seeing anyone, we could go out? There’s…” Peter swallows. “There’s definitely chemistry here.”

“Yeah, kid, I feel that,” Tony says.

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Bucky emphasizes, shooting Tony a look overhead that says keep it in your pants. They’ve been seeing each other in here long enough to have reached the telepathic portion of their relationship, thanks. “You’re already promising more than we could have hoped for. And we really appreciate you sitting down and talking things out with us. That’s never easy, doll.”

The younger man blushes prettily, shrugging. He stands. “I really should get back to work.”

“Okay, kid. Whatever you need to do,” Tony agrees. He shifts, hard in his sweatpants, the proximity to his lover and his maybe, possibly, someday lover has sweat beading at the nape of his neck and his imagination running wild. Peter’s eyes track his movements and then fall to his lap.

He licks his lips.

Honest to god.

“I—wait for me. Just—” Peter disappears, flashlight bobbing as he continues down the line. They can hear him popping his head in to a cell further down and telling the guys to please be respectful of the other inmates, thanks!

“Buck,” Tony groans. They smash together with no finesse, both of them stressed and horny from their confrontation with Peter. They taste like mint toothpaste they used before lights out, and Tony licks into the younger man’s mouth unabashedly, sucking on his tongue, licking at his teeth. “God, I need you,” he whispers.

“Take me,” Bucky urges. “Come on, baby. Take me.”

They shed clothes like they’re on fire. Tony folds Bucky’s legs up—for a large guy, he’s surprisingly nimble—and lowers his mouth to Bucky’s ass, licking a hot stripe over his hole and to his balls. He hears the hiss above him, the groan muffled by a fist in his mouth. Not for the first time, Tony hates prison. He hates that they have to be quiet, that they can’t let themselves go and love each other properly, just hushed romps like this in the middle of the night.

“What do you think he meant?” Bucky pants, fingers clenching on Tony’s hair. “Wait for me?”

There is a whispered groan from the doorway. They both turn to see Peter there, leaning against the bars, eyes heavy. “I meant wait, but I get it. God, I get it. You’re both so, wow, god.”

“He’s eloquent,” Tony says. They shift on instinct, turning so as to give Peter a better view. He turns off his flashlight and it takes time for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Peter stands with his back to the wall, hands clasped behind his back like he’s in handcuffs.

“I can’t—I can’t do anything,” Peter pants. “But I could watch. If you wanted me to.”

“Do you want to?” Bucky asks.

“God yes,” Peter breaths, voice high. One hand palms at his crotch. His uniform has him blending in to the darkness, but they can guess what he’s doing, and fuck that turns Tony on, like there’s fire in his blood. He goes back to eating Bucky’s ass, pressing a thumb against the rim to hold him open so he can slip his tongue inside.

“Jesus, Tony,” Bucky says. “Fuck me. Just fuck me, come on.”

Tony is in full agreement. It’s too much; they’re all too worked up. The sounds from Bucky, the sounds from Peter, the taste of his lover in his mouth—his cock feels fit to burst as he pulls it from his sweats. He doesn’t dare pump it for fear of blowing his load right away. God this isn’t going to be the best performance to share with their new love, but he hopes that Peter can forgive him if he comes off as a three-pump-chump.

He presses in slow. Bucky is still soft and pliant from their fucking the night before, and there’s no discomfort on his lover’s face even when he bottoms out. Bucky’s legs wrap around him and he urges Tony forward with his heels and voice: “Come on, baby. Fuck me. Give it to me. Put on a show.”

Tony knows just how Bucky likes it. There’s no holding back, just the brutal thrusting of his hips that has Bucky giving off choked noises, one hand pressed firmly over his mouth and the other scrabbling at the sheet on the cot. It only takes a moment for Tony to glance over and see Peter, hand flashing in the darkness as he jerks his own cock through his dress blues, and Tony is mounting the crest, balls contracting, stomach tensing.

Bucky blows first, untouched. Tony barely gets a fist around him when he realizes what’s happening, pumping furiously to help his lover through it. Then he is there himself, grip maybe too tight around Bucky’s cock, hips snapping desperately while he blows his load. It feels like it lasts forever. Was over so, so quick.

Even when they’re done, panting, sandwiched together, they hear Peter: breathy little whines from across the room. He stops jerking himself off when they stop lazily and lovingly grinding their hips together, but it’s obvious by the unconscious swaying of his hips that he didn’t cum.

“Take care of him,” Bucky mutters, pressing a kiss to Tony’s sweaty temple. “Get on your knees for him.”

“Yes,” Tony gasps. His cock slips free of Bucky, still tingling pleasantly. He walks on his knees the few feet it takes to be at Peter’s feet, staring up at his tortured expression.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps. “I can’t do anything. That’d be wrong—”

“Then don’t do anything, Officer,” Tony purrs. He reaches a hand up and rubs at Peter’s cock. The kid keens softly, thrusting his hips out even as he grips uselessly at the wall. He’s desperate for relief, desperate to get away. Tony bats his eyes, though no one can see in the dark. “Let me do the work, sir. Please?”

Peter swallows hard. He nods frantically, and that’s all Tony needs to undo Peter’s belt, wrench down his dress slacks and boxers. He doesn’t even get a good look at the kid’s cock, just swallows him down. It’s a nice mouthful, and he has to work to get the last inch or so, taking the head just into his throat. “I’m—I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter gasps.

Tony swallows.

Peter cums. Tony barely manages to pull back, desperate to taste him on his tongue. One hand comes up to work at Peter’s twitching cock, the other cradling his balls to help prolong his pleasure. The kid sounds like he’s never cum before in his life, hands gripping at the concrete wall, giving tiny aborted thrusts, mouth open and panting.

“Thank you, Officer,” Tony says, voice a little distorted from deep-throating. Peter slumps down the wall, knees shaking, until they’re kneeling across from each other. Tony can’t help it, he laughs a little. “You didn’t need to be worried about hurting me, baby. That wasn’t my first blowjob.”

It’s Peter’s turn to chuckle. “I did have good reason to be worried.” He cuts himself off, like there was more he was going to say, but stopped himself.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky asks. He’s lounging on the bed, watching them with lazy, sated eyes. He’s so fucking handsome, Tony crawls across the floor to kiss him and press the last of Peter’s cum into his mouth. The other man moans appreciatively.

“It’s kind of a crazy story,” Peter admits.

“We know a thing or two about crazy,” Tony says. “Try us.”

Peter’s clenches his hands together tightly. “It’s weird, actually. It has to do with a spider.”

Bucky and Tony share a glance, equal parts confused and amused. Tony settles in, leaning his head to rest on the cot beside Bucky. “Go on then,” he says. “We’re listening.”

-

Tag list: @crown-filth

[ultradiplr]

Observation

A SigmaxReader story. 

Plot: Reader is sent to keep Sigma company for the night but he has other plans and needs reader’s help with an ahem “experiment.”

Tags: Exhibitionism, humiliation, Reader has a vagina but pronouns aren’t explicit  Age difference (Reader is in 20s and Sigma is 62). Size Difference. Dub-con? Reader never gives verbal consent and is also in a sort of scared of falling during the whole thing? Also Sigma is kind of a shameless creep in this that the reader is in to.

Also this is my first smut so go easy on me (and if there are more warnings I should add please tell me)

The night had started out fine, you were told to keep subject Sigma, or Dr. Siebren, company as he worked for the night. A common thing for low level lab grunts like yourself to do, which you actually enjoyed since you were able to take a break from the other clearly malicious scientist and spend the time “helping” someone decent for once. And Dr. Kuiper was a decent man, a bit intimidating, especially to you since he stood a clear two feet taller than you, but a nice man.

Though there was more than his attitude that made you like him if you wanted to be truthful, a quite handsome looking man, older of course, but that has never stopped you from swooning at him passing by. Tall and broad with intense features and soft periwinkle eyes, sometimes you catch yourself dreaming about being held in his strong arms, or feeling his large hands on you, but you’d shake those thoughts from your head and find content in the fact that you at least got to spend time with him every few nights.

When you got to the checkpoint outside of his lab you gave a cup of coffee to the guard stationed outside, and saw Sigma floating next to a whiteboard on one of the screens.

“How’s he been tonight?” You asked looking at the monitors that recorded every inch of his lab, bedroom, and even bathroom that existed in his private wing of the facility.

“He was a bit jumpy a while ago but he seemed to have mellowed out.” The guard yawned, relaxed with his feet up on the table, “Easy night hopefully.”

“Hopefully” You smiled, already heading toward the door.

The guard pressed a few buttons and a door opened to a hallway, the entrance to the wing he lived in. It was a short walk to his lab and when it opened to you you walked in with a chipper attitude.

“Good evening Dr. Kuiper.” You greeted, walking up toward the hovering scientist.

When he turned to regard you with a warm smile you’d come to love you could feel your insides melt, he was so handsome,

 “Goedenavond, Dr. Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, and that voice could always make you feel lighter than air.

“Just wanting to see how your research is doing.” You say happily up at him.

“Not so well, im afraid.” He said, looking worriedly at his equations.

“Anything I can do to help?” You asked immediately, this kind of stuff was beyond you but helping Siebren with anything was always fun.

He looked at you with worry and seemed to consider this, “I don’t know, it requires some hands on work.” He said folding his arms over his broad chest and scratching his chin, “You might not be experienced enough.”

Working hands on with Sigma’s abilities? Why, you’d never thought you’d see the day, usually that stuff was saved for the actually research team! You nearly burst with excitement,

“You know I’m reliable, c’mon how bad could it be.” You said nonchalantly, not trying to convey how excited you really where.

Sigma looked you up and down with a curious look in his eye, then he smiled and clapped his hands together, “Alright then, come.” He said, motioning you to step up closer to him.

You did and were surprised when he picked you up easily by the waist and hoisted you up into the air. You clung to his chest as he brought you near the ceiling, the top of the tall multi-board stack, and a good twenty feet off the ground. You never even noticed the room was so tall before. You gulped and tried not to look down, your fear of heights almost outweighing the pure delight you felt actually being held by Sigma. It was a dizzying concoction.

“Can you see anything wrong here?” He said pertaining to the white board you were too scared to move to look at.

“I- uh- I don’t- yes i guess” You started to shake a little, god this was overwhelming, would it be rude for you to ask him to put you down?

“Onnozel, you didn’t even look.” He tisked, his voice sounded weird, still soft in his normal way but just, weird, “Here, let’s turn you around.”

You whimpered when he turned you around in his arms, easily removing your iron clad grip on his lab coat like it was nothing, his strength dumbfounding you just a bit. He settled your back against his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you against him while the other gestured to the board.

“Now then, do you see anything wrong?” He asked again but this time it seemed a little pointed and… smug?

You still couldn’t look at the equation, eyes glued to the sight of your legs dangling toward the ground that seemed so far, probably a lot farther than it actually was. You couldn’t stop shaking now, pushing yourself harder into Sigma behind and gripping tightly to the arm around you waist.

“Ogen omhoog, the equations are,” His free hand came to grasp your chin in two fingers and force your head forward to look at the board, “here.”

His grasp on your chin was a little harsh and you could feel his fingernail in the skin of your chin but you focused on the equations in front of you. You took a deep breath and focused, reading line by line the math in front of you. His hand relaxed a bit when you began mumbling the work being done in your head and he let your chin go. But his hand didn’t leave, instead it gently caressed your neck.

You gulped and momentarily lost track as you felt his fingers graze your skin, feeling that he could easily wrap one hand around your neck if he wanted to. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, yet you didn’t feel afraid you felt… incredibly turned on.

You continued checking the math and he continued his downward touches, moving his fingers over your shoulder, into your lab coat, down your chest and stomach and picking at the hem of your shirt. You whimpered when his fingertips barely grazed your bare skin, earning a dark chuckle above you.

“Does my math check out, Y/N?” His head came down upon yours, nuzzling ever so slightly against it, “You have not lost track have you?” he was teasing you.

You shake your head, feeling embarrassed and hot to your core and continued trying to focus on the board. He hummed above you, the feeling radiating through his chest and into your back, calming you slightly as his fingers continued to paw your abdomen shamelessly.

In the middle of a rather long equation a whine erupted out of you as Sigma grazed a thumb over a nipple and made it hard. He let out a soft, oh? And you could feel the smile that spread across his face as he grazed it again. You fidgeted slightly in his arms and he chuckled.

“Is something wrong, do you need help?” He asked smugly in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

You shake your head and closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of him for a moment, broad back behind you, strong arm around you, beautiful hand touching you, face mere centimeters from your face. God you could die happy right now.

“Oh, are you done now? Everything looks good?” He asked, chipper tone as before but with the added feeling of him still pawing at your chest.

“Y-yep, everything looks good.” You lied, you were still on the third line but any longer up here in his arms you were sure to pass out.

“Hmm, then if it is not my math, it surely must be the execution.” He said innocently and it was messing with your mind as he continued to touch you.

“Must be.” You said through a whimper as he pinched your nipple rather roughly,

The unsatisfying friction of your pants was killing you and you just wanted to be put down and ravaged but Sigma seemed uninterested in your obvious physical plights to do so. He made a sound of contemplation and let up on teasing your chest. 

“Let’s go through the motions and see whats wrong, shall we?” That damn innocent tone was making you stomach flip a little, it was off putting but also kind of hot.

Without hesitation he began unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off with one hand as he kept you secured to him. You yelped in surprise but didn’t make a motion to stop him as he pulled the offending garment off your legs and let them drop to the floor below you. Far below you. Oh, you had almost forgot.

You began to shake again but his free hand came up and soothingly massaged the back of your neck, “Rustig kleintje, you’re safe.” he shushed, “We do not want them to think you’re in danger now, or our experiment will be cut short.”

A shiver ran up your spine at the implication and you could feel yourself clench in anticipation. They where watching, weren’t they. Watching him touch you and watching you love it. Oh god, the ridicule you’re going to face if word ever got out. The condescending stares the research team will throw at you. The stern talking to from Dr. O’Deorain. Perhaps even getting fired, or worse for messing up her experiments.

Shame filled you as you glimpsed at a camera not to far from you and Sigma must have caught that because he nuzzled into the side of your face. “Hmm, are you afraid of them?” he asked in a mocking tone.

You nodded slightly and he laughed, actually laughed, making you flinch away from him a little, “Bang om te laten zien wat een slet je bent?” He said amused, hand coming to cup your mound.

You canted in his arm, your body trying to find friction while you mind was reeling from the harsh tone. Your body was so hot, so needy, you needed him to touch you but you also wanted him to let go so you could go curl up in a hole and die. Conflicting feels bubbling up and bursting when his fingers finally made contact with your slick lips.

You moaned and arched back, one hand coming to hold onto his shoulder behind you and the other to grip at the arm around you. 

“You must not mind the cameras too much if you’re this wet.” He said hotly against your temple and you could only moan in response.

His fingers where large and skilled and rubbing your clit at just the right pressure and in just the right way to make your legs feel like jelly and to bring you right up to the edge very quickly but he pulled away when he felt you shivering, teetering, and you let out a frustrated cry.

“Close so soon, you must really want it.” He growled.

When he felt you were calmed enough his fingers returned, probing at your entrance as you tried to move in a way that will finally get him to enter you. After frustrated grinding and a good bit of breathless begging he finally conceded and slipped two fingers into you smoothly.

You moaned from deep within you chest and shivered, panting into his neck as he gently pumped you open.

“Sigma, please.” You whimpered and he kissed the top of your head.

“geduld, sweetling, I don’t want to break you.” he whispered hotly, humming with please when he felt you clench at that.

He worked you up again and this time let you come on his fingers that you trapped between your legs as you hunched over his arm and shivered uncontrollably. He kept fingering you through your orgasm to the point of over stimulation and laughed when you started yanking on his hand.

He let up and slipped from you, bringing the wet fingers to your mouth which you happily accepted, much to his delight.

“Hongerig katje, you have no shame do you, licking yourself up for me.” He teased but you felt too good to care.

You nodded and sucked, vibrating with pleasure as you felt his fingers flex in your mouth and press down on your tongue. He pumped his fingers in and out slightly, eliciting a moan and he groaned in response, his steady control so far slipping.

He pulled his fingers from your lips with a wet pop and you whined to his amusement. He reached down between you two, moved you lab coat out of the way, and unzipped himself. You wished you could take your time and suck him, but he seemed intent on taking you like this right now.

You couldn’t see past his massive arm but you sure could feel him as he thrusted up over your slit and hear him as he moaned loudly next to your head. Thick and long, you were a moaning mess before he even penetrated you, feeling it sliding along your wet folds was ungodly satisfying and a large part of you wished you were in a different position to actually see it thrust over you.

His free hand was helping him slick himself on your folds and when he felt prepared enough, lined himself to your opening. 

“Ready?” He asked breathlessly and you could do nothing but nod.

He was slow, letting inch by inch slip inside you gently to let you adjust as his hand came up and held your neck in a soft grip. You whined and moaned, feeling full halfway through and feeling absolutely bursting by the time he hilted. He was nuzzling your head mumbling dutch gibberish as you tried to focus on breathing, his voice and his protective grasp helping relax you.

“So tight, so wet, so warm.” He whispered for only you to hear and you clenched at the sound of him being absolutely wrecked.

“All for me, or for the camera, lieveling?” He asked, taking an experimental thrust that made you cry in pleasure pain.

You couldn’t answer because you didn’t know. Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought about the poor security guard having to watch you get fucked by an old man twenty feet off the ground, but currently you didn’t really care. This was the best thing ever and if you were going to get killed for this, you might as well enjoy it.

Despite the strange angle and the way he was holding you up, you began your damnedest to try and thrust yourself back on Sigma, maybe being able to move and inch or two by yourself. Sigma laughed breathlessly, a moan getting caught in his throat when you clenched around him to stop his mocking. He got the point and began to ease himself out of you and then back in, a slow pace that let you feel every inch of in on the way in or out.

Every thrust forward pushed a whimper or moan out of you and before long you where steadily chanting Sigma’s praises, to his delight. He kissed your neck, your face, your shoulders, his hand experimented different pressures on your neck, all while his arm kept you firmly in place. 

“I bet you look so beautiful from that camera.” He panted against your face, “Like a slut getting thoroughly fucked.” there was no malice in his voice, only overwhelming need.

“S-sie-gma” Your brain was getting fried with the way he was speaking to you, touching you, opening you up and ravaging you, you couldn’t even form a sentence. It was so much, too much.

“Imagine it, a video of-” He moaned, stilled for a second before continuing his bruta, steady pace, “Of you getting used by me forever on their damn servers.”

You nodded, the idea sounded so awful yet so good at the same time, “You like that don’t you? Proof, proof this finally happened, hmm?” 

His teeth were clenched tight, you could hear it in the way he ground that out, he was close, so close. And so where you, gone completely, Sigma the only thing anchoring you to reality. You could only focus on him, his tight embrace, his smell, his breath. Him, Sigma, Siebren.

And then your mind went blank as stars exploded behind your eyes and your vision went white for a moment, the hardest you’ve ever come. When you came to your senses Sigma had halted inside you, the feeling of something warm dripping down your leg and filling your insides.

He was clinging to you tightly, whimpering something you couldn’t understand and for a while he just held you. His hand left your neck and pet your hair, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck while he twitched inside of you. Overall his body language changed completely and even his arm hold on you slackened just a bit. When he pulled out you whimpered and he placed a kiss on your shoulder.

You heard the sound of his zipper as he made himself decent again, and turned you in his arms to cling to him again. He was all blissed out smiles and half lidded eyes and it made your heart flutter like nothing before. He looked so relaxed, relieved, happy, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride.

He lowered you both back toward the ground and sets you on a table to sit, floating away momentarily only to return with some paper towels. He let you wipe yourself and when you were done helped put your pants back on.

You were exhausted through and through, and he could tell. He easily scooped you into his arms and floated out of his lab and toward his bedroom. Inside was dark but he was able to find his bed easily and slipped the both of you under the covers. Momentarily your tired brain worried about falling asleep on the job and tried to get up except Sigma was holding you firmly in place.

“They’re going to be wondering where I am.” You said sleepily, already partially asleep.

“I don’t think anyone will be wondering where you are, my dear, just go to sleep.” He said tiredly and you conceded.

If this was your last night on earth, at least you got to spend it here with him.

[monochromemedic]

After the Dam Breaks

The Mojave. Unforgiving, harsh, hot... My friends have all been gone, going their own way.  I stood there with my remaining companions, the sniper and the medic. “What are you going to do? Have you finally thought about what you’re going to do next Jenna?” Arcade asked, crossing his arms and sighing, already knowing the answer. I didn’t look at him, my eyes looking down at my boots. “No... you already know I got no where to go, and my memory isn’t coming back. I’d... go back and maybe try to see if I have a family or if I had anyone back there but... I feel like I’ll just be disappointing in the end or if there’s a way to track back to where i’m from.” “You could always check in with the Mojave Express. See if there’s any clues there-” “You know there’s not. I already checked it’s... vague nothingness. “ Arcade shifted a bit, looking to Boone who was staring off in the distance, at the lights of the Strip behind him. “Well.. like I said you’re always free to come with the Followers. You know we can always use someone like you around, and everyone there likes you.” “...Yeah. But you’re traveling away, away from the Mojave from everyone else.” “Everyone’s leaving, you need to decide.” Arcade was firm, his voice growing more serious. “We all know we want what’s best for you but, people come... people go. You can’t expect us all to stay together, especially our rag tag team. We all stuck together to help you take down Benny and help the Hoover Dam situation but now that that’s over... we all have things to do. Things to accomplish. We can’t stay around here forever, not when everything is starting to calm down and there’s a hundred other places that need help. Besides, it’s hot and honestly i’m getting real tired of sweating through every pair of clothes I have.” I gave a somber smile before sighing, looking over at Boone. He was dressed in his NCR gear, messing with the strap on his shoulder. “What about you Boone? Going... back to the NCR?” I asked “Yeah. I guess. Either that or try to do some bodyguard work around here.” “...The NCR did bad things Boone, I mean things that... the whole... Springs thing. And you want to go back and try to... help them?  Aren’t you worried about that sort of thing?”  “Maybe. But where else am I suppose to go. To Novac? NCR’s all I remember.” Arcade only groaned, shaking his head and giving a disbelieving laugh. “Up until the end, the two of you... can’t decide for yourselves. Unbelievable. Listen... um... I’ll be at the Fort for a few more days before heading out East. Jenna if you’d... like to join me you’re always welcome. Boone. You’ve... been... a good man.” He awkwardly muttered before walking away, leaving the two of us alone. I turned to the Lucky 38, watching the neon sign flicker in the setting sun, and feeling pangs of sadness fill my chest. “Can you believe it? It’s all over. And now we don’t know what to do. Well... maybe you do... you at least got a place to head to... a home but...” I closed my eyes, grabbing my hair and tugging on it. It was getting long, long as it had been since the bullet. “Do you remember? When we first met? You scared the shit out of me that night when I checked the Dino. And you asked me who I was and if I could help you. I was so nervous, so scared, so... damn unsure of everything. I had no one. I was alone in the desert just struggling to get my footing again. But I did it. I helped you get closure and I earned some sense of trust in you. It seems so long ago but it wasn’t... was it?” “I owe you for that... still. And Bitter Springs. If it weren’t for you doing that stuff for me, i’d probably be in a ditch somewhere. Maybe still in that damn dinosaur.” “Haha... yeah. That wasn’t that funny I just- i’m being awkward.” “I know.” A pregnant silence filled the air, the Strip quiet as if everyone there was holding their breath and waiting for our conversation to continue. “I don’t want you to go Craig.” Boone turned his head towards me, eyebrows furrowing as I gently touched his hand. I could feel my face starting to redden, my eyes getting wet and my lump in my throat growing. “Out of everyone I met, for some reason I don’t want you to go the most. I mean I know why and I think you know why but even if it weren’t for that you still mean so much to me... the thought of you leaving is-is... I can’t see it. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to FEEL it.”

The tears began to run down my cheeks and I quickly wiped them away, gritting my teeth and forcing a laugh out. “Truth is i’ll probably go with Arcade but the fact that I won’t be able to see you again is tearing me apart inside. And I just want to ask if I could come with you. Or you could come with me and Arcade! I just don’t want to go solo again. Craig... I love you so much. I know it’s a real asshole thing of me to do especially after... but if this is the last time i’ll see you, I just need you know.” Slowly Boone pulled my hand to his chest, holding it tightly as he closed his eyes in thought. It seemed like he had a lot on his mind and was trying to think of the right way to talk about it. “It still hurts when I think about her. I still feel sick to my stomach and think I don’t deserve alot of things. You make me feel... less... so. But it feels wrong. I... don’t know how to feel, how to put things into words. But I guess i’d be lying if I didn’t say I had some sort of feelings for you too.” My eyes widened and I grabbed his others hand, lacing our fingers together and pushing myself closer to him. “Then please... we don’t have to be alone, you don’t have to go back to the NCR... we could... do something together I-I don’t know what but we could just be the two of us. Hell if you wanted to go back to the NCR I’d follow you Craig. It’s ok if your not ready or if you... might never be I just, can we just give it a shot? Can we not break up the squad for a little longer. You know how bad of a shot I am without you.” I laughed, taking his hand up my face and kissing his rough fingers. Another long silence from Boone before he answered, shifting his stance nervously. “Suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I’ll go with you where ever you wanna go. You’ve never steered me wrong so far. As for the... other thing I know things might not change alot, knowing me. I’m still struggling with alot. So I guess just be aware, im not some teddy bear.” I laughed harder, pressing my forehead against his and smiling wide, wider then I had in a long while. “I’ll be patient. You’re worth it. I think... maybe we should travel with Arcade, help some people out and if we see any more legionary wannabe’s we could do what we always do.” “I’d like that.” There was a tension in the air, and being so close to Boone’s face just made it obvious I wanted to kiss him. Everything was going so great, things seemed to finally make sense again when I thought things were slowly slipping from my fingers. I closed the gap, pressing my lips against his, causing him to make a soft surprised grunt before eventually returning the kiss back. He returned it. He didn’t push me away, he didn’t yell at me... he kissed back, just ever so slightly. It was enough to make my head ring and I pulled away, my head hurting and my nose beginning to bleed from he wound Benny put in my head. High tension situations ever since then made me bleed. “I feel like i’m gonna pass out i’m... so happy haha... oh shit I’m seeing stars.” “Please don’t.” He huffed, taking my arms and supporting me as we began to walk towards the gates of the Strip and out to Freeside, making our way towards Fort Mormon. “I can’t help it. I’m just... happy. For once things are looking up. Things don’t feel like their going to shit I feel good Boone. I feel alive.” “You’re bleeding alot so maybe feel less alive.” “Heheh... we’ll we’re heading to Arcade, you know he can patch me up. It’ll just be a happy surprise for him, a thank you gift. ‘Surprising, we’re both coming, make sure I don’t bleed out!’ He loves it, he loves patching me up it’ll be so homey.” I could just make out the smallest of grins on Boone’s face, which only made more blood come out as he stifled a soft chuckle. “Yeah. Real homey.”