#just a smidgeon tho

[the-ipre]

i take a normal amount of notes watching tristamp

[id: a video scrolling through pages of the notes app on trigun stampede /end id]

[theyonlyhadeachother]

i have so many bookmarked midam fics its insane. i dont know if i've read all of the midam fics on ao3, but i've def read a very large majority of them

just a few of my absolute favorites are below the cut. none of them are rated E, but if anyone is interested in some of those, shoot me an ask and let me know

----

Gen, 3,693 words, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1/1 chapters

bound to the marrow of how it feels by paradisecas

Summary: Ask any kid what their superpower would be, nine times out of ten the answer will be flying. Adam, son of a nurse and a bit of a goody-two-shoes, was always the odd one out choosing the noble imaginary superpower of healing people. If Adam could go back in time—and technically, he could—he’d change his answer. Not to flying, and not from healing; he knows now that he can have it all. He’d like to kneel down in front of baby-Adam and say, hey kid, someday you’re going to have everything anyone could ever want at your fingertips, and you’ll be sharing it with the love of your life. You’ll fly straight through the atmosphere and fix broken bones with a snap of your fingers and sit invisible in the corner of a room you’re not allowed in. You’ll eat until you can’t anymore and still have room for seconds. You’ll be able to pick up a car to save a baby, if that situation ever arises, and it won’t even be adrenaline that does it. He wants to say, no matter what nightmares come your way, something good is waiting for you too. You’ll share your body with someone who loves you. You won’t ever be alone again. You’ll always be warm.

Tags: Michael/Adam Milligan, Michael (Supernatural), Adam Milligan, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), Post-Canon, Michael Possessing Adam Milligan, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, michael dies but he gets better tho

hook and eye series by thishazeleyeddemon

Series rating of Mature, 19,945 words, No Archive Warnings Apply, 2 fics (2/2 and 1/1 respectively)

Tags: Michael/Adam Milligan, Michael (Supernatural), Adam Milligan, Sam Winchester, The Empty | The Shadow (Supernatural), Witch Adam Milligan, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Grief/Mourning, Bitterness, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Break Up, would you all like to hear about Michael essentially getting his ex to get back together with him, of course you would, Emotional Manipulation, Self-Esteem Issues, Adam Milligan is Not Forgotten, Adam Milligan is So Done, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Adam is such a bitter bitch in this one, it's okay y'all they'll get through it, I just was like Adam can have a little Being Mean and Unreasonable. As a treat, Men of Letters (Supernatural), more tags for Part 2!!, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, THE PROMISED. HAPPY ENDING., I REWROTE THIS SO MUCH I AM GOING TO BED, prays the rewriting paid off, Michael Steals From The Rich, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural,) arguably - Freeform, Body Horror, although Adam would gut you for saying such things about Michael, obviously Michael is beautiful and perfect no matter how many eyes, Consensual Possession, Making Out smidgeon of angst. just a spicy dollop, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, by virtue of being a hook and eye-verse fic

Summary of the First Fic: you fit into me like a hook into an eye a fish hook an open eye - Margaret Atwood Michael succumbed to his Father's manipulations. He never wanted to destroy the Earth, but it was so hard, so hard, to find the words to fight back against his father when he was all alone. He never wanted to do that. He never wanted to leave Adam. Adam doesn't know that.

Two Weddings and an Engagement by lumpy_space_princess

Teen, 7,812 words, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1/1

Tags: Michael/Adam Milligan, Gabriel/Eileen Leahy/Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester, Michael (Supernatural), Adam Milligan, Gabriel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Rowena MacLeod, Kevin Tran, Charlie Bradbury, Claire Novak, Kaia Nieves, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Post-Canon Fix-It, Minor Castiel/Dean Winchester, Midam at the Destiel wedding, Midam at the Saileen wedding, Everybody Lives, This is crack so don't think too hard about it, Adam & Kevin & Charlie & Claire & Kaia Michael & Gabriel - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Seriously everybody knows it but them, The Love Is Requited They're Just Idiots, They work it out in the end though

Summary: Adam massages fingers over his temples, and tries not to look morose. "Listen. You're not exactly telling me anything I haven't told myself. But there's just - there's baggage there, ok? It's been hard to look at the future when we've barely gotten used to having a present again." He huffs. "Anyway, I don't think he'd even want that. He's an-" "-an archangel, yeah, you've said. It was crap the last time you said it, too." Kevin props himself on his elbows, gazing intently at Adam. "How will you know if you don't try? How is it fair to him, that you just decide what he feels without asking him about it?"  Charlie nods. "Would you want him to treat you that way? It's obviously weighing on you. How would you feel, if he was keeping something this important from you?"  ----------------- Or: Michael and Adam, bless their hearts, are mutually in love. Strangely, they're the only ones who can't seem to see it.

the past is made of stardust (the future's shifting sand) by Anonymous

Teen, 30,461 words, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1/1

Tags: Michael/Adam Milligan, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Adam Milligan, Michael (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), The Empty | The Shadow (Supernatural), Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), Post-Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), Post-Episode: s15e08 Our Father Who Aren't in Heaven, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Non-Chronological Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, The Empty (Supernatural), Adam Milligan Saves Michael from the Empty, Michael Possessing Adam Milligan, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Kinda Fluff, Temporary Character Death, i am going to rewrite this. i mean it.

Summary: Adam knocked on the door and waited. And waited. And waited. He knocked again, and then it opened to Sam brandishing a gun, Dean behind him with a knife and a bottle of whiskey. When they saw him, they didn’t relax, but they didn’t attack either. “Adam?” Sam asked, hesitantly. “Or… Michael?” Adam knew he had to look ridiculous. Before, they’d seen him while he still had an archangel maintaining his body, but after the last day and a half? He was sweaty and sunburnt and dehydrated and he could almost feel the bags under his eyes. But another gift of the Cage was losing the ability to give a fuck what he looked like. “Michael isn't home right now,” Adam said. “And I’d like to know why.”

Mirror Of Change by QuicksilverCastiel

Teen, 2,127 words, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1/1

Tags: Michael/Adam Milligan, Serafina (Supernatural), Michael (Supernatural), Adam Milligan, Raphael (Supernatural), Serafina is going through it, Or at least she's bluescreening on account of Michael's heart-eyes at Adam, Also Heaven ecology yay!, they/them pronouns for Raphael

Summary: When all is said and done, God defeated and the world righted again, Serafina takes on her biggest challenge yet: Going back to Heaven. Not to stay, but to see if the rumour of it 'changing' have any truth to it. Turn out, at least some archangels have definitely changed. And it may be because of another Adam.

your mother's son by darkmillennium

Teen, 10,633 words, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1/1

Tags: Michael/Adam Milligan, Michael & Adam Milligan, Michael (Supernatural), Adam Milligan, Alternate Michael's Grace-Enhanced Monsters, POV Adam Milligan, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life, Fluff and Humor, Post-Episode: s15e08 Our Father Who Aren't in Heaven, Michael Possessing Adam Milligan, Adam Milligan is So Done, Developing Relationship, Romantic Tension, listen they're in love with each other we've all seen it, this is just 10k words of michael and adam living life, Enochian-Speaking Adam Milligan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Summary: Adam wants a normal life. He really does. He wants, at least, as close to a normal life as he can get after spending ten years—a thousand years—in the Cage. And he’s got it, mostly. He’s got an apartment and a job and a closet full of clothes that aren’t the clothes he went to Hell in. He thinks he’s been managing pretty great, all things considered. But one day, Michael warns him that he’s sensed a pack of werewolves move into the area, and then people start dropping dead with their hearts ripped out, and.. Life isn't going to be as relaxed as he'd like it to be, is it?

[shorkbrian]

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

[kitsune-kaos]

How do I get even a smidgeon of your confidence? Like, damn.

OMGGG I made such a goblin noise just now 🙈

First and foremost, I have MAJOR confidence issues that I’m tryna work towards fixing, so most of what you might perceive as me having confidence is purely an illusion I unknowingly cast 🧙🏼‍♂️✨

The bit of confidence I have managed to attain tho is very come-and-go, like it’s better/worse depending on the day.

But I can at least advise that the occasions where I’m more confident are: (A) when I let myself not care about the opinions of others, and (B) when I let myself not be a perfectionist.

Essentially, my most confident moments have been times where I was so used to feeling embarrassed or foolish that I told myself, “well, if I’m a fool, then I’ll be the fool who’s making the best of it and having a gay ole time” 💕

Oh! And also, self-deprecating jokes/humor and negative self-talk are horrible for self-esteem and confidence. It’s taken me a lot of effort to lessen the amount I belittle myself like that.

And surrounding yourself with supportive, uplifting friends/people also makes a world of a difference.

It all takes time, so don’t beat yourself up if you’re not where you want to be yet. You’ll get there, I believe in you 😊💕

[thesolferino]

i must confess. earlier when they were all waiting for dream to wake up for the among us lobby before he just didnt i was very very Very hopeful for mayhaps. a smidgeon of dream morning voice content. dream tired sleepy voice content. (i hope he had a nice sleep tho he deserves it after everything antis have been putting him through the past few days in particular)

😭😭😭 tbh i didnt even think of that i just wanted him to get some sleep LOL

[fraulinekritzkrieg]

[Previous] @ofharm

Maddy didn’t reply back. Her eyes were glaring daggers at the man who had the nerve to just sedated her like this and bring her here. She wiggled against the restraints that held her tied down onto the cold metal surface. There were more restraints than she’d like there to be, making it damn well impossible for her to even move just a smidgeon. Compared to before she was relieved to finally be able to feel her body again, to regain control over it and move it. With a grunt she tried to arch her back in order to see if she couldn’t at least get some wiggle room, tho it proved fruitless to even try.

Her eyes scanned the room to get a clear feel of where she was. It was like someone had taken the laboratory from the ‘crazed doctor’-trope and installed it in real life. Everything looked like it could hurt you and everything looked like it was often used which made her swallow a thick lump. Laying down Wolfgang looked even more imposing than he usually did. He was a tall and fit man, broad shoulders and chest with sharp features. He always made her uneasy. Whenever she had seen him on the battlefield she had made sure to stay clear of him. Something just didn’t feel right about the man it was like being in the room with an apex predator and Maddy found her body trembling. Was it from fear of what was going to happen or the sleek cold surface of the steel beneath her?

In her mind, she gave the surface the blame for her quivering body. Her heart was already pumping at a fast. There was nothing she could do while laying like a slab of meat on a butcher's block, primed and ready to be carved up. And truly, this was how she felt it was.

     -”Why have you brought me here? Why target me? You have your problems with Ludwig. What could you possibly want from me?”

Maddy asked, trying to follow the man whenever he moved around, or at least as much as hear tired down self could allow it. Talk and asking questions could be a good solution it would at least keep the man occupied with something else, and keep her safe until his patience ran out. She didn’t fear death, respawn would make sure to send her back good as new, it was the followup to the death that scared her and by now she was sure he was going to snuff her lights out, but the fact that she wasn’t sure what was going to happen to her made her anxious. Respawn you could rely on, but void of uncertainty that occupied the time up and till her death made her feel on edge. This was the first time here and she had no idea what to expect of the man!

[ember373]

3/27/21 11:44 pm

I give up.

That’s all that keeps playing in mind in a loop. I’ve been here before. Honestly tho, I’m getting kind of numb to it. It still hurts. It still breaks my heart. But his leaving was expected. Just, maybe not this soon. I thought I’d get to keep him a little longer. But I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to do everything I could to keep the conversation going. I’m tired of pouring myself into people to get a smidgeon in return. I’m tired of being people’s distractions from life and nothing more. I want relationships with people. I don’t want surface bullshit. But that’s all he felt like giving me. I don’t blame him. Either a person is good enough, or they aren’t. I gave my all. I made myself stay when I wanted to run. I cleared up misunderstanding before they got blown out of proportion by my stupid brain. But it wasn’t enough. Maybe I accommodated him too much. Maybe I just bugged the crap out of him. Who knows? But he decided he needed a break from Reddit and that meant a break from me and something in me broke. I had held onto the idea for so long that if I just hung on long enough, maybe I’d be able to become a friend. Not one that went through war or ugly relationships or his childhood or any of the stuff his other ‘qualified’ friends did to earn their position. Maybe just doing life and being there and showing him I care would earn me that title some day. I knew it wouldn’t be soon. But you can’t earn something that you never had a chance at anyway. And I realized that. I was disposable. I didn’t really matter. I was someone he only talked to because he was bored. He didn’t genuinely care about me. I mean, he almost never asked me questions. Didn’t show an interest in knowing me better at all. Just let my verbal vomit entertain him and probably thought than god we’re not friends and we just talk via messages. I should have know better. I should have known not to care so much about him. To consider him a friend. Friends tell you their last names for fuck sake. Friends don’t play it safe. And that’s what he did. He always played it safe. Very controlled. I never had a chance.

So when he said he was taking a break I told him to not come back. I don’t need to put so much effort into someone who considers me disposable. Who doesn’t notice that we talked nearly every day and doesn’t care if we miss a day or two or three. Guilt started eating away at me after I sent that message. What if he’s going through stuff? What if he needs me to be there when he returns? What if he needs me? But you know what? I don’t owe him anything. And he said it himself, he has a ton of buddies. I was just another buddy to him. When you have a ton of them, how important can one individual really be? I was just delusional. He didn’t care for me any more than the friendly lady at the grocery store. It was nice while it lasted, I guess.

I’m tired tho. I don’t want to do this again. I don’t want to invest myself in another person for them to just discard me again. I never thought in a million years that he would do that. He seemed so steady and reliable. But yet...he did. Once again, I became disposable. That’s all I ever seem to be. I was just trying for friendship with this one too. I mean, I liked him but I didn’t want to do that to him. And I know he didn’t want that. So I was happy just being friends with him. But that’s where I kid myself. We were never ‘friends’. So when he decided he needed a break, it was nothing to just shove me aside too. Because life was going on. And I wasn’t a part of it. No matter how much I wanted to be. I made him important to me. That’s my bad.

So, I give up.

For now anyway. :P

[technicallymilkshakes]

The Choices We Make (Part 2)

Member: Park Chanyeol Word Count: 1842

Part 1 || Part 2

Up to you.

 Yes, perhaps it was up to you, but only in the way the sky or the stars were. A celestial net flung over your head to trap you into reaching for something untouchable. The only way to get beyond it was to keep your head down.

 You looked down at the phone cradled in your lap.

 [3:50 AM] Understood.

 How annoying. It took just one word to succumb to Park Chanyeol.

  You stared up into the shiftless dark, then rolled over and closed your eyes. There wasn’t much of a difference aside from the random sparks of color that you could see more vividly like this. Or maybe you just imagined them to be more vivid. Yes, you were certain that was it. Now that you were concentrating, everything just looked black. But then a smidgeon of something flickered at the edge of your closed-eye eyesight until the spots burst back in fireworks of color.

 Even after opening your eyes to escape the haunt of your imagination, color continued to capture your gaze. The digital green of the microwave clock loomed luridly in the distance as the minutes rearranged themselves from 5:51 into 5:52.  

 Although you could still feel exhaustion thrumming through your body like a minor chord, you swung your legs up and over the side of the bed. There would be no rest now. You had planned an efficient two-hour nap, but listless thoughts had squirreled it away into hidey spots that you would never be able to find again.

 You stared mournfully at the alarm on your phone for 6 AM and disabled it. Moping about it now would be an exercise in futility. You set your phone down, scooted onto the floor, and got out your laptop and USB stick.

 Over the course of your career, you had learned to distinguish between what academia recommended for you in your profession and what actually worked for you. You liked to hold onto articles until the very end, by which point you were so sick of working on them that your deadline came nearly as a relief. But as your word processor finished loading and your document appeared, you had to resist the urge to close your laptop right then and there and miss your deadline for the first time in your life.

 Thank goodness you were a professional.

 Jaw clenched, you purposefully scrolled past the screenshot of a bedraggled, broken-heart-sweater wearing hooligan who had so suddenly made your life more difficult than it needed to be at 6 in the morning.  

 With an editor’s unforgiving eye, you went through your article and cut with surgical precision any mention of quick-to-conclusion idols. The gaps that resulted you carefully stitched together, only a thin scar remaining visible to those who knew how to read between the lines.

 To complete the rest of the review, you pulled up your notes and retrieved a couple episodes of the drama from your USB, flicking to hastily written times you had jotted down alongside brief memory joggers. From this, you constructed your closing argument, methodically crossing off each bullet point from your notes as you went.

 Now you fell into what you referred to as “polishing” the article. Fingers lifting off the keyboard, you read for content and double-checked your numbers. Satisfied everything checked out, you moved onto formatting, a mindless run of attaching links and organizing fonts that was quickly over. From there, you went back and read the entire thing aloud to yourself thrice, assuring that the last two read-throughs were typo free.

 Leaning back, your eyes flicked to the clock on the computer’s toolbar and expelled a breath. 7:22. Not bad. Now for the last thing.  

 You scrolled back up. Back up to that brown haired, pensive face that you were too accustomed to seeing with a smile. You scowled back at it. Because you were faced with a dilemma. Multiple ones, really, but the less you could think about, the better. Would this image violate the terms that Chanyeol had set for you? At this point, the image only served as clickbait. You acknowledged this along with the cold, slimy shudder that crawled its way vertebra by vertebra down your spine and hoped you’d never have to acknowledge such a thing again. You could change the image, restore the rose-tinted view of yourself that would last you until your next deadline. Or you could keep this one and maybe eek a little more traffic out of it.

 You stared blankly at your screen without resolution until you snapped to and looked at the clock. 7:41. Your heart stopped its wild freefall. You were sure that you fell asleep for a moment there. Thank goodness you woke up in time.

 And that ultimately decided you. You sent the article off to your editor before you 1) questioned yourself any further or 2) fell asleep again. Besides, this wasn’t breaking any rules. He said you had to notify him if it was about him. And it wasn’t. You had meticulously gone through the article to make sure it wasn’t. It was just a review about a drama in which Park Chanyeol happened to appear for a few episodes. No need to justify it to yourself.

 You heaved a relieved sigh and slumped sideways onto the ground. It was dusty. You hadn’t cleaned your flat in a few weeks. You should probably do that. Make your space livable again. Do some laundry, clean some dishes. Maybe go grocery shopping. Like a normal person. Or an adult. Two very different things, you thought to yourself and snorted. But the floor was surprisingly comfortable. You stretched, laying a hand on the bare skin of your stomach, and determined to do it all later.

  Later, as it turned out, happened to be after lunch. You could only force your body to nap for a few hours before a stiff lower back woke you up. You hobbled together some lunch, a meager little affair of rice and Spam, and then cleaned out your refrigerator. There wasn’t much that needed cleaning. A few vegetables far past their prime. The questionable contents of a couple of containers. You scrubbed down the shelves and it looked practically good as new.

 You eyed the dishes in the sink with a little more trepidation. You took it as a personal challenge to use the least amount of cutlery and plates possible per meal, so what awaited you in the sink was the culmination of at least a month’s work. In a bid to appeal to both procrastination and laziness, you decided to leave the plates to soak and come back to it later.

 In the meanwhile, you cleaned the countertops, sorted your trash and recycling, picked up your clothes, and swept and mopped. Luckily, only so much space existed in your small studio apartment and you finished while the sun was still high. A pile of clean clothes still lay on your bed, while your dirty ones waited on top of your washing machine. Your laptop and its chaotic company of work stuff lay spread out same as always on the small floor table that doubled as a dining surface. Although maybe not organized, your apartment was at least passably clean.  

 After a quick shower, you slipped into some jeans and a comfortable sweater, then jogged out to the grocery store, disposing of your trash along the way. You had decided to forego the car today. The sight of it would make you too upset.

 The grocery store could be easily overwhelming for you with its press of bodies and colors and delicious things to eat. Tackling it with a list made it more bearable. Ingredients for a simple meal. Maybe doenjang-jjigae. Some ramen. As you pulled items into the cart, you deleted the corresponding line from your phone. A notification appeared on your phone just as you were scrolling to see if you had written down shampoo and conditioner or just shampoo and the message opened before you could register what it was or who sent it.

 [3:15 PM] [Drama Review] Missing…  [3:15 PM] cute [3:16 PM] I especially liked the part where u talked about me w/o mentioning my name [3:16 PM] could’ve used a better pic tho :/ [3:17 PM] overall I’d give it a 6/10

 You halted in the middle of the aisle but couldn’t stop yourself from watching the second dawning of your demise.

 [3:19 PM] btw I got an estimate today [3:21 PM] fyi the headlight assembly alone costs about 1mil won [3:22 PM] not sure tho [3:22 PM] I might want an upgrade~

 Your fingers tightened around your phone and you had to resist the irrational urge to throw it down. It would just be another thing you couldn’t afford right now.

 Managing a deep, calming breath, you slid your phone into your pocket. You would just be playing into his hands if you responded right now. You grabbed a bottle of shampoo and made your way around an elderly couple, who were passively griping about how they needed something but you were in their way, to return a few items back to the shelves.

  You regretted not bringing your car. Although you bought less than you had intended to, it was no walk in the park hauling multiple bags of groceries up to your flat.

 By 4, you were back at your apartment, putting away your groceries. Then you rolled up your sleeves for Round 2. You wanted to be so tired by the end of this that the most rise Chanyeol might get out of you was a sigh. So you did a load of laundry, tackled the dishes in the sink, cleaned the bathroom, put away your clean clothes, and finally, made your bed.

 It couldn’t be put off any longer, however. You opened your messages and stared at them for another dismal moment, and then composed your response.

 [6:38 PM] How do you expect me to pay for upgrades when I can barely afford the base price?

 His text came two minutes later. He must be glued to his phone, you thought derisively.

 [6:40 PM] should’ve thought of that before u went crazy sasaeng mode and crashed into my car [6:41 PM] but [6:44 PM] if youre good

 You waited for the next message. Your phone dimmed and then went black from inactivity. An odd jitteriness overcame you and you had to roll onto your mattress and press your face into your pillow to drown it out. It wasn’t until you were on the cusp of a day dream luring you into a sleeping one that the slight vibration of a message came. Groggy fingers fumbled for the device and brought it up to eye level. Eyes darted over the words, eyebrows furrowing. You set your phone back down and then turned your back on it, a thin sigh escaping you as you closed your eyes.

 [7:01 PM] then maybe we can work something out

A/N: I live! This story lives! Praise be to the Dimpled One!! This was a trial and a half to write. Many apologies.  A/N 2: Re-uploaded, but it still appears as if this fic isn’t showing in tags.