#table tennis gone wrong

[itscooltoskate]

I have seen enough. It is time for me to cancel this mfer once and for all

[vultbae]

negroni ✩

art donaldson x female reader

↳ summary: After winning against Patrick, Art takes the night off to grab a few drinks at the Ritz Carlton lobby bar. There, he meets a profound admirer. 

OR

Things go wrong with the girl who bought him a Negroni.

↳ warnings: fingering (minors dni), age gap (reader is 22), manipulation, infidelity, angst towards end.

↳ extra warnings: english is not my first language pookies + my first fic + yall I'm messyy so I added drama out of nowhere. if u read this I love u thank u for giving me a chance

word count: 4.9k

✩

"Excuse me, no smoking."

The blonde man lifts his chin to encounter a young waitress warning him about the cigarette dangling off his mouth. His middle and index fingers immediately approach the cigarette and gradually pull the filtered end from between his lips. "Sorry." Art frankly apologizes.

The waitress's purposeful avoidance of directly looking at him makes Art borderline giggle. He can't help but discreetly give her a comprehensive look; the girl is attractive, with velvety skin that impersonates caramel and peaceful facial features. He shushes all the pushy thoughts resembling the waitress to his wife staying upstairs. He is not that desperate, plus, everyone knows he is married to the Tashi Duncan.

Art audibly clears his throat and articulates before the young woman strolls away, "Can you get me a Negroni, please?" He requests, showcasing a courteous smile. The woman nods.

He didn't even realize when he positioned the cigarette between his lips. He had been anxiously waiting for an instance when he could be alone -at least since the match against Patrick. Tashi cheerfully agreed to let him descend to the lobby bar to grab a few drinks.

✩

Art had been attentively scanning his frame on the wide mirror and adjusting strands and strands of hair as he paid more attention to his hairstyle; his somber eyes descended from his impeccable hair to the unfastened buttons of his seersucker shirt, revealing a fraction of silk-like, gloomy skin from chest to lower stomach, his well-grooved muscles casting shadows under the bathroom's dim yellow lighting. 

"I'm going out!" Art shouted from the bathroom as he fastened the remaining buttons of his shirt.

From the corner of his eye, he sensed Tashi approaching the bathroom doorframe and standing by it. Art tilted his head up to encounter Tashi, his wife, silently grinning, dressed in a beautiful pearl-white silk robe, "I won't be gone for more than an hour-

"It's fine," Tashi interrupted. "I'll watch a movie with Lily. We can talk about it later."

Art nodded. His eyes stared at her with minor fascination. Tashi couldn't figure out why, but the feral spark on Art's orbs evaporated. She walked away.

Art slightly opened his mouth to say something but suddenly cut himself off, lips slamming together. He didn't say anything. He allowed the slim figure of his wife to vanish from his eyesight. He authorized himself to go out alone for the first time in years and think about his relationship with Tashi and tennis -if, at this point, they were not equal. And his relationship with Patrick, of course. 

After today, he felt things he hadn't felt in a while.

✩

An insistent tap on his shoulder provokes Art to flinch and abruptly land on earth again. 

"Excuse me, Negroni..?" Another waiter says in a quivering voice—a statement rather than a question—hardly maintaining eye contact. He is holding a tiny round silver tray with a bloody-looking Negroni sitting on it. 

Before the amateur waiter can shakily grasp the crystal glass to place it on Art's table, Art raises his arm and moves the Negroni himself. As soon as he places the glass on the marmol table's surface, his long fingers seize the thin wedge of orange embellishing the glass, bringing it to his lips and sucking on it instantly.

He doesn't realize that the one time he and the waiter are maintaining eye contact is while he sucks on a slice of orange -slowly.

"Thank you." Art says, dragging the wedge out of his mouth, detecting the scarcity of color on the waiter's facial canvas. "Why is he so pale?" Art thinks. The meddling stare from the waiter endures for maybe five seconds before Art frowns his eyebrows slightly in confusion; the poor guy nearly jogs away from Art's table.

Does he carry that much power over people? It has been long since Art calculatedly flirted with or attempted to gain someone's attention. To be accurate, since Tashi entered his life. He has officially lost the "open-to-the-public" charming spark and neglected his intrinsically flirty side. 

But today, for some reason, he feels different than usual. Not that he is trying to test it...

The Ritz lobby bar is moderately quiet. Art peeks at a few travelers relaxing with their baggage as they sip cocktails in miniature glasses and couples drinking -"probably pre-gaming before a night out," Art assumes. His gaze disembarks over two guys in their premature 20s, brunette, and blonde, chuckling and vividly chitchatting about topics he can't overhear properly. Art is hooked to the scenario in front of him as he stares enthusiastically: it bitterly reminds him of his friendship with Patrick, whom he hasn't heard of since the match. 

As he finds himself —once again— daydreaming about what once was, Art takes decent-sized sips of his Negroni, with his right hand hugging the crystal glass just right. He is sitting on one of the many hickory brown leather armchairs dispersed across the bar, manspreading as his left hand lays over his lap. 

Suddenly, a personal reflection pops into his mind like a light bulb unexpectedly turning on; what is he doing? Sitting submerged in loneliness in a 5-star hotel lobby bar will not change anything. It simply won't. He would rather go back to the suite and have some pleasing fucking sleep. He is feeling tired, and confused, and depressed, and—

Well, If anything, people who recognize him could come and disturb his night. 

Art locks eyesight with the first waiter wandering across his vision field; he pitches a writing motion with his hand and requests the bill. As the waiter walks in his direction, he chugs down the leftover sips of cocktail in the glass.

"Bill?" Another waiter wearing a burgundy uniform asks Art. The tennis player shakes his head up and down, murmuring a yes please, "Don't worry, on the house."

"I can afford it." Art stresses, with a robust sarcastic undertone tinting his voice tone while attempting to maintain the most benevolent smile on his catalog. 

The waiter chuckles in exaggerated glee. "I know, Mr. Donaldson. Your bill has been cleared by another customer," he clarifies, standing in front of Art with the straightest stance and hands intertwined in the manifestation of hospitality. The waiter clears his throat, "Actually, by the young woman over there," and discreetly points his finger at the stools by the bar gantry.

Art's gaze dashes over to a woman standing by the bar gantry. He can only see her back, not her complete complexion. Although he has internally accepted this demeanor as improper, he allows his eyes to scan over the woman's silhouette freely, lingering a little longer on her legs. In the background, he can faintly attend to the waiter talking about hotel-specific branch issues and how stays such as his and Tashi's benefit the hotel's branding -isn't this the Ritz Carlton?

"Yes, I agree." Art blurts out as soon as he realizes the waiter has concluded his monologue, his gaze glued to the enigmatic female standing five meters away from him.

"Thank you, Mr. Donaldson. Have a great night." Just as Art opened his mouth to greet him in return, the waiter had already shifted on his feet to approach another table.

Art reevaluates what he is about to do. Should he greet her, thank her, or gently communicate how unmannered it can be to buy a married man a drink? 

But also, what if it's an obsessed groupie attempting to instigate drama?

It doesn't matter. Buying Art Donaldson a drink is disrespectful. Literally everyone —quite literally everyone— who knows Donaldson knows he is married to Tashi Duncan!

Come on, a woman, unattended in a bar, buying me a drink? Art thinks.Of course, she has hidden intentions, he reassures himself. Art shifts on the armchair, resting his elbows on his knees, still pondering whether he should approach her. 

Why isn't he simply disregarding this and walking away?  

He hadn't felt so much excitement about something so childish in a while. It felt like being nineteen again. After hugging Patrick today, he sensed a heartwarming relief regarding Tashi cheating on him. But, on the other hand, he's a fucking human.

Fuck it. He just wants to chat with the girl and perhaps communicate that she shouldn't do that again. Right, that's it. 

Art picks up his belongings and strides towards her.

"Hey, sorry..." Art speaks, dragging the stool beside the woman and grinning warily at her. His soothing, recognizable tone of voice instantly captures her attention.

Art expected many things, but not a drop-dead gorgeous woman. A girl. She looks...young— not underage kind of young, but unquestionably not over twenty-five. On the other hand, as a well-known tennis player, he's had plenty of exquisite-looking women begging for attention; Tashi herself is stunning. Somehow, this woman left his lungs tightening for a sizzling second, which is concerning. 

Plus, her aroma. Jesus, the scent, Art thinks. He would continuously go weak on the knees when Tashi wore that damn tangy, dark cherry fragrance she had. He immediately identified the distinct smell.

"Mr. Donaldson, oh my god..." The girl's voice pitches high, and she extends her right hand in his stomach direction as if she had been rehearsing for this moment. "I didn't believe you would accept the drink," she adds enthusiastically. 

Her voice is too harmonious for his ears. 

Art stretches his hand and shakes hers. "Well, I didn't." Art retorts, unconsciously smirking at the girl's harmless bliss, "I was pretty much obligated to accept the free Negroni."

"Well, either way, I am honored," she says with a slight shrug and giggles, "Names Y/n; by the way, very nice to meet you, Mr. Donaldson. Big fan of yours"

"Nice to meet you too, Y/n," Art unpretentiously expresses. His facial expression goes abruptly blank as he realizes he might be snitching on himself. "Uh, Y/n, I don't wanna sound rude, but what you did... with the drink," he struggles to word it nicely, worrying about coming out as unpolite. He laboriously swallows as Y/n raises her eyebrows, expectant. "You shouldn't buy drinks to married men," he concludes.

Y/n lets out a gigantic gasp, "Oh my- this is so embarrassing," her hands fly over to her mouth, covering it in mortification, "I am so sorry, Mr. Donaldson-

"Please, call me Art," Art interrupts, a smirk rising on his face.

"Well, Art," Y/n corrects herself, now speaking with a mischievous undertone, still with an infectious grin plastered on her face. "I go to Stanford. I couldn't stop hearing about you —your skills. Well, I grew up in a household of tennis enthusiasts, and I, myself, am a tennis player. I just wanted to show my appreciation for what you've done for the tennis culture."

Art's cheeks feel hot. Heck, they are burning. 

"Oh.." he mumbles, mainly to himself out of amazement.

"I would never, don't worry, Mr. Donaldson- I mean, Art." Y/n reassures, emphasizing the never. But as she justified herself, a sad half smile crooked on her plump lips, "I mean... No one can deny you are very handsome, but I am a respectful woman-"

He unmistakably heard the last sentence but will bypass it for his mental stability. "It's fine, Y/n." Again, he runs over her words, interrupting, "I should be apologizing; I don't want to come across as an entitled asshole."

For some reason, Art can't stop feeding the conversation. You are a fucking horndog, Art internally insults himself.

"Let me buy you a drink as an apology," Art says bluntly, requesting clearance but simultaneously demanding. Y/n, on the other hand, has her eyes set on the blonde man in front of her, both gazes perforating each other. "I mean, if you are of age.."

She giggles.

"Twenty-two. Took a gap year," the girl admits, "and I wouldn't mind a Negroni," she adds, now faking a nonchalant accent.

Y/n can hardly believe the circumstances she has put herself in. She observes the man standing before her, deftly moving from how he calls the server to how he licks his lips after ordering the Negroni. He's so fucking hot, she thinks. She had only seen him through flat screens and once attended one of the numerous lectures he gave back on campus. 

But no, Y/n wasn't an obsessive stalker. Earlier that day, she had been at the New Rochelle Tennis Club with her father and the new newbie guy he was coaching —she can't even recall his name. Long story short, the guy had asked her on a date, and as a grandiose concurrency, Y/n had suggested the Ritz —they serve finger-licking cosmopolitans at their bar. It wasn't until she reached twenty minutes earlier by mistake that she contemplated bailing on her plans. Why? Because she laid eyes on the mouthwatering blonde man sitting by himself, ingesting a depressing ass-looking Negroni. 

She knew it was a hit or miss. But she would rather miss if it came to the possibility of messing around with the man of her most soaked dreams.

Y/n's nostrils pleasingly burn as she inhales a warmish, spicy fragrance emanating from Art's clothes and skin. She can't dodge the impulse to frequently peek at the opening of his shirt, revealing milky skin. Her breathing becomes erratic just by fantasizing about him without the fucking seersucker shirt. She knows he's fucking ripped.

Y/n chews on the bottom of her lip anxiously, contemplating her words. "By the way, what you did today was insane."

Art arches a brow. "You mean playing tennis?"

"That wasn't even tennis; that was an entirely different game," Y/n responds as if Art had offended her. "It felt as if the court was entirely yours," she overpraises him, feeling rewarded by the minuscule giggles escaping from Art's lips.

Art feels his heart warm up at the familiar sentence choice. "It is not a big deal, just a good tennis match," he elucidates. 

She rolls her eyes. "Sure... or maybe you are just too skilled for other players." Y/n softly laughs.

Art bits back the tiniest groan of frustration. He feels his dick hardening underneath the light-washed denim jeans he's wearing. He tries to comprehend if it is because of the sudden sensual undertone in her delicate voice, her unmistakable submissive look penetrated deep into her big eyes, or the fact that Tashi had not touched him below the hipline in months and turned him into a precocious motherfucker. Or it could be the alcohol making him horny. He hadn't noticed before how tight her clothing was —it took one swift glimpse at her body for Art to see her thighs spilling out of the hem of the strapless mini-dress. It took another one to realize she was now gently caressing his arm.

Art was convinced there was nothing left to wipe the carefully crafted agitated expression from his face. "Could be, yeah," he says, subsequently coughing to avoid strangling on his own spit. "I don't want to be seen as some kind of God."

"Well, you move like one," Y/n affirms, chuckling at her own filthy sentence, her fingers playfully stirring the brand-new Negroni sitting on the bar table with the cocktail straw. She licks her lips, "You know what I mean."

Bullshit. There is no way this girl doesn't want to fuck.

She dodges eye contact, but there is a peculiar shift in the air, and a smirk exponentially extends her lips.

"I know what you mean." Art snaps back, incapable of looking away from the cocktail straw now entrapped in between her glossy lips. 

His muscles and head feel more lightweight, but his ocean eyes remain entirely tied to her outline. 

Their bodies have shuffled negligibly closer—inappropriately closer. Art senses warmness filling his face from the subtle friction of their knees: the coarse texture of his denim and Y/n's smooth, bare skin.

From her peripheral vision, Y/n glimpses a security guard patrolling the hotel lobby. She makes eye contact with the robust man for a split second, whose facial expression reshapes in dull stunner as he peeks at who's sitting next to her. 

Y/n sets her crystal glass on the bar counter. "Thank you so much for the drink." 

"Wait. Are you leaving?" Art questions, with feigned etiquette that reeks of desperation. 

Y/n's eyes dart to the man standing near their stools. Art tracks her gaze and sighs. "You already gifted me minutes of your time and a Negroni. That's enough coming from Art Donaldson." 

Art hesitates. "They are not in my business." He practically whines, progressively revealing his despair to the young woman sitting before him.

"I still need to Uber home," Y/n excuses, pouting at her words. "A woman can't be alone that late-

"I can drive you." 

✩

The drive is around twenty-five minutes. 

Y/n quietly sits in the copilot seat of Art's Bentley Bentayga. By her left side, Art grips the steering wheel confidently, his fingers switching effortlessly over the controls as they drive through the streets of the suburban county of Westchester. She peers through the shadowy window glass on her side —there's a winter storm outside. 

"How many days are you staying in Westchester?" Y/n asks while her gaze stays fixed on the passing scenery framed by the window.

Art clicks his tongue. "Not much. Most likely leaving tomorrow morning."

"Did you do anything fun around the county?" 

"Well, a rich-people county isn't the most amusing place to visit." Art jokes, speaking with a devilish tease.

Y/n doesn't reply. Instead, her eyes quickly flicker to his silhouette under the fuzzy skyglow leaking through the car's transparencies. Art's blonde hair captures the faint illumination beautifully, each strand seeming to shimmer under the dim light. His muscles tighten at—

Red light.

When the car stops, Art twists his head to the right, his and her gazes collapsing. He runs his tongue over his upper lip before talking, "You mentioned something earlier..." he begins to say. 

In the stillness of the moment, the only sound is the soft hum of the engine idling.

"I mentioned many things," Y/n corrects. 

A faint crease of discomfort crosses Art's brow, and he shifts slightly on the red leather seat. Y/n examines each of his subtle hip and torso motions as he gets rid of the discomfort. Finally, again sitting still, he resumes. "Let me be specific. You mentioned I am handsome."

A sudden warmth spreads across her cheeks, an unmistakable flush of embarrassment.

"I don't think this is appropriate."

"I don't think neither of us cares about what's appropriate anymore." 

It feels as if the world has stopped for Y/n. It feels as if a spell had caught both of them, leaving them besotted, and fucking horny, and awaiting the other to give the—

Green light.

"I think there's a parking lot next to a store that shut down recently 3 minutes away."

That's all Y/n says. Art presses down the gas pedal and tightens his grip on the wheel to suppress some exotic sensations that rocket down his spine.

Raindrops splatter against the windshield and the car's roof, and the blonde guy continues to drive through a road of infinite rain-soaked side trees swaying in the wind's rhythm and closed shops. 

It takes four minutes and fifty seconds to reach a gigantic parking lot beside what once was a Dollar Tree. Although Y/n can scarcely appreciate the space due to the weather conditions and the tinted glass, she can see some faded, bright yellow parking lines now covered in dirt and droplets of rain. The place is totally empty.

Y/n's heart sprints ten times faster when the engine settles into a contented hum. Goosebumps flourish on her skin as serenity inundates the car interior—complete silence. The SUV has parked on a random corner.

And she doesn't want to look in Art's direction because she knows he's already looking.

She plays it credulously. "I think this is a great place to talk in peace," Y/n murmurs, finally turning her head towards him. 

The fleeting moment her eyes cross with his evokes a sense of vulnerability for the girl. Art's orbs shamelessly spark with a glimmer of mischief, like a predator stalking its prey. The unbridled desire is nowhere near disguised now, and Y/n knows the guy won't keep playing the innocent role anymore. Is buying him a drink disrespectful? Bullshit. But she's grateful the poor, troubled man will have some fun. She knew he'd surrender faster than expected. 

Yeah. Art had lifted the white flag as soon as he reached out a hand to grasp the door handle of his sexy ass Bentayga to open it for Y/n, and his eyes had flown by instinct to the girl's ass when she was hopping on his car.

Now, he can't tear his eyes off her lips. 

"I've had a fucked up day." Art suddenly breathes out. There's a steady rise and fall of his chest, but Y/n can tell he's struggling to maintain it. His eyes ascend to lock in with hers. "I want to forget who the fuck I am."

Y/n is drowning in the noise of her own accelerated heartbeat. "I can help you." Y/n's words shoot out in submission, haltingly batting her eyelashes at him.

It's humorous mainly because she has no idea what is happening in his life. She doesn't know the mess between Tashi and Patrick; the fact that Tashi allegedly fucked Pa—well, whatever. Y/n doesn't know. She understands the man is disturbed, though, because the instant she stepped inside the luxurious lobby of the Ritz Carlton, she could tell the man had no emotion on his face. She recalled watching his matches when she was younger, and one thing about Art Donaldson was the radiant vitality his presence brought to any room he was in.

It's evident that the radiance was gone. For whatever reason.

Their bodies draw closer, the only barrier being the gear stick and seat partition between them. Y/n can feel Art's warm breath clashing against her lips, a slightly intoxicating and crisp scent of gin climbing to her nostrils. She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue before grabbing Art by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into her mouth. He briefly widens his eyes but reciprocates instantly.

He is the sort of kisser who goes slowly but deepens as much as possible, inserting his tongue everywhere attainable. Y/n tastes good and, heck, excellent —sweet and spicy, as if she chewed cinnamon gum before assaulting his mouth. The flavor and the satiny texture of her lips push him to near insanity; Art pumps his tongue in and out, desperately, sweeping against hers because of the faint, delicate moans leaking from her side every time he does it —it makes him vertiginous.

It isn't until Y/n sucks on his lower lip that he splits off to breathe. "No marks." Art forewarns with his face dropped in soberness, heavily panting.

He discerns something shifting inside of him when Y/n's beautiful features soften for a beat, casting a veil of a peculiar sentiment he's too emotionally dumb to interpret —bitterness? sadness? He can't tell. The fuzzy thoughts fade when her lips attack again, parting his with ease, allowing her tongue to slip inside. "Shut up." Y/n spits lowly between kisses.

A couple of sizzling minutes of pure, obscene french kissing pass before Art realizes the pressure underneath the light-washed denim over his crotch is tormenting him. His left-hand glides over Y/n's thigh and gently squeezes, letting her know he needs to move forward. At this point, he has readjusted the position of his body over the red leather seat, facing Y/n straight; the hand resting over her thigh gradually shoves the hem of the mini-dress upwards, revealing more skin and dangerously approaching her pussy.

The tempo of Y/n's kisses becomes unsteady with the sensation of his physical touch near such an intimate area. It felt weirdly mortifying for her to be this wet this early —her pussy felt slippery and willing to take whatever Art proposed. She breaks off the kiss out of involuntary reflex, with her gaze immediately descending on Art's left hand, too big for her, and skillfully positioning the lace of the light-pink panties aside.

If Art was a magician and opening her legs was a challenging magic trick, goddamn, he'd be a good magician. Y/n had no idea how, in such an undersized space, her legs had managed to spread that wide. The specific moment when Art's middle finger comes in contact with her wetness is a blur, but the filthy, low-pitched groan that his mouth emits as the first finger rubs her pussy lips will never be forgotten. Y/n unconsciously rocks her hips in search of more friction-

"Stay still." Art demands, chest rapidly going up and down. Although he attempts to sound demanding, his voice is weak in want and ridiculously desperate. Y/n's cheeks flame up when he begins toying with her clit, rubbing slow circles, with an equally attractive and irritating cocky grin resting over his face.

But she wants that one finger to go in. Y/n sighs in eagerness, muttering a series of pleasepleasepleases.

"Art..." Y/n mutters between choked moans, bucking her hips forward into his hand. Art gazes at her, intoxicated by her facial expressions and the mild tone of her voice, delivering such nasty noises. His eyes don't leave Y/n's face as he thrusts his middle finger past her slick folds. He feels his dick twitch at her exaggerated facial response.

What was one finger quickly became two, picking up their speed and twirling inside, hitting the sweetest spot. "Not a virgin, right? " Art abruptly asks, terrified but astonished at the tightness her pussy held, clenching down on his digits and squeezing. 

"No... oh my god—" Y/n yelps, hardly managing to articulate words as his fingers keep steadily penetrating her pussy. 

Y/n tilts her head back and instantly feels a trail of sloppy, wet kisses on her jaw; Art is nearly over her body, working his way downstairs and upstairs, too. The accelerated rhythm of his fingering ceases for a hot second as his available hand reaches her chest to unashamedly pull down the neckline of Y/n's mini-dress, freeing her tits and letting them bounce out of the expensive cloth. 

As a sheer coincidence and dissolving in pleasure, Y/n's eyesight dismounts in one of the tall buildings in front of the parking lot. What she sees is practically ironic. An immense billboard with Art's face crammed inside, by his side Tashi Duncan's iconic facial features, and an oversized Aston Martin logo. "Game Changer," the thing reads. Funny, she thinks. He is a game changer, though —not sure if he is the same kind Aston Martin broadcasts. 

But seeing his face and Tashi's painfully reminds her the man is not hers. 

In fact, the man has a whole wife.

"Fuck me." Y/n requests, still a complete mess, moaning, arching her back, breathless. 

And nothing happened where she thought the fire test lay. Art obliged. In fact, he seemed enthusiastic. He wants to make her his. Y/n modestly smiled at the thought.

"Yes... fuck, yeah." With a deft hand, he reaches down and unfastens the button of his pants; he eases the zipper down, and the faint sound of it sliding makes Y/n nauseated of anticipation.

Art reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a beautiful, black leather wallet. He flips it open, his brows furrowing in concentration as he sifts through its contents. With a muttered curse under his breath, he begins to dig deeper; Y/n doesn't understand what's happening —is he searching for a condom?

After eternal seconds, the blonde guy lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head, resigned.

Y/n sits beside him awkwardly, unhurriedly pulling up the neckline of her dress, covering her now shivering body.

"...So?" she questions.

He remains silent.

"I don't have condoms." 

"I'm on the pill." Y/n offers.

The look Art shoots at Y/n isn't gracious. In fact, it triggers a big spark of frustration on his face, eyebrows knitting together in a light scowl as he looks at her incredulously.

Then it turns worse when, by mistake, his gaze falls on the same billboard Y/n had seen earlier.

"I can't. Sorry." 

Y/n slowly closes her legs and adjusts her neckline. "Why?"

Art's eyes fall to his lap. "Well, starting from the fact I have a family-

Y/n interrupts. "Well, you didn't seem to care when you offered to drive a total stranger."

It was most likely the sassiness and the blaming in her voice that unexpectedly threw him off. Really threw him off.

"That's none of your business. I just took the opportunity of a warm hole."

In one swift, rampant movement, her hand connects with his cheek with a resounding crack, the sound echoing through the air like a crash. His head jerks to the side. A slap.

She had fucking slapped him.

With a trembling breath, Y/n doesn't think twice before she pushes open with unmeasured force the door of Art's fucking ugly car —or that's how she thinks of it now. The storm still persists, rain pouring down in sheets. Tears accumulate over her eyes as she steps out into the downpour, grabbing her purse tightly.

"Hey, hold on..."

She completely ignores Art's words, which get easily lost in the roar of the rain. 

But she turns to face him one last time, sitting on the pilot seat, visibly ashamed of himself —and still with unbuttoned pants.

"Fuck you. I hope you lose every single fucking tennis match." And with a forceful push, she slams the car door shut. 

As Y/n steps away from the vehicle, leaving a splash in the puddles on the floor, she wishes the man she met two hours ago had run after her and begged forgiveness. But of course, he didn't. Instead, she watched as the vehicle got started again and drove past her, quickly rejoining the road and disappearing in the darkness. 

✩

[agroteraa]

Artemis

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Part 2.

Part 1: Actaeon

Part 3.1: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.1)

Part 3.2: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.2)

Warnings: smut, oral, handjob, penetration sex.

Word Count: 5,5K

After the events of the last night, you didn't join in watching TV with the Cattons and Oliver. No, you weren't tired, but you were overwhelmed with emotions and all that had happened. Besides, you couldn't imagine how you could just go and watch telly with Oliver after that. It would be too embarrassing to pretend that nothing had happened, and you didn't think he'd be able to keep his face either.

So, you just went to your bed, tossing and turning for most of the night, thinking about what scenes in the bathroom. It felt like Oliver's hands were still ghostly wandering all over your body...

You came to breakfast very sleepy and visibly a little lost. It was a beautiful and sunny morning, and all Saltburn habitants were sitting at a table outside and eating various treats.

"Good morning, everyone!" you said, not being able to hold back a yawn.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" Elspeth replied, looking at you worriedly, "Is everything alright?"

Felix echoed his mother's look, slightly raising his eyebrows in concern. The others were busy with their own conversations, and only Oliver silently cast a brief glance at you, returning to eating his full English breakfast.

"Yes, it's okay, I'm just... I couldn't fall sleep for a while."

"Okay," Elspeth nodded, satisfied with your rather innocuous answer.

When you took a seat at the table opposite Oliver, you couldn't look into his eyes, your stomach was twisting, not from the hunger, but from the excitement. You didn't feel like eating at all. Duncan brought you eggs cooked in your favorite way, you nodded gratefully to him, but you were in no hurry to eat. Oliver noticed it.

"Is something wrong?" he asked innocently, looking up at you.

"Um, I'm just... I don't know, I guess I'm just not hungry right now."

"Hmm. Well, but I am. I've been hungry since last night. Very much," he chuckled, returning to his meal with appetite.

You gulped. It seems that he didn't mean breakfast at all now?

That had how your morning went, and then you went about your own business. Oliver, Felix, Farleigh and Venetia went to play tennis. You dismissed the game, and even more so there were exactly four of them. Instead, you went for a walk in gardens of Saltburn, read a book in a shady gazebo and muse upon the evening ahead. So, the evening had finally come, forcing the hot sun to forget about itself until the next day.

You thought and decided to politely decline the dinner. To be honest, you were feeling sick with excitement, and you definitely wouldn't be able to eat anything at dinner, especially if Oliver would be looking at you. It was better to seem a little weird now than to get a bunch of unwanted questions later.

Instead, you decided to stay in your room, citing a slight indisposition. You really had it, though, for a different reason. You lied down on the bed and began to remember the last night. His touch, his breathing, his piercing blue eyes that turned dark with desire at that moment... a desire for you.

It was hard to even believe it, but it seemed that was it. Your breathing got heavy when you started running your fingers over your lips, feeling your hot breath on your fingers, because you imagined that it were Oliver's fingers...

... ohh. You definitely needed to do something about it tonight.

* * *

"Where have everyone gone? I've been looking for y’all for half an hour," you said, finding Oliver in the library, who was comfortably settled in an armchair and reading a book.

"They're playing Uno. It seems that Felix and Farleigh will quarrel even more than yesterday over the remote control, and Venetia is also with them."

"Why aren't you with them too?"

"I'm not a fan of these kinds of games," Oliver explained with an emphasis on "these" not even looking up from his book.

"Mm, yes, about Venetia. Although she is not giving concerts in the bathroom tonight, but now there is only cold water running, apparently there is also some kind of heating malfunction, and the second bathroom still has not yet been repaired..."

At this point, Oliver looked up at you, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Oh, really?"

"Mhm..." you confirmed, biting your lip.

He looked at you searchingly, tilting his head slightly to the side. Then, with a rising smile, he replied to you, "Of course. Enjoy yourself," and returned to reading his book. That was it, there was no further reaction or words from Oliver.

"F-fine." That was it? For some reason, you hoped that he would somehow hint that he would also join you, or at least react livelier to your words. But you had no choice but to go back to your room, get a bathrobe and go to that bathroom. You didn't bring a towel. Okay, Oliver, if you wanted to play ignore, we could arrange that.

Going into the bathroom of Oliver and Felix, you began to fill the tub. The room greeted you again with a pleasant dim lighting and the hum of water flowing down. His incomprehensible indifference throughout the day had upset you and even slightly angered you. Therefore, this time you had already put things on Felix's half on purpose and took his towels, no matter what Oliver had asked you to do.

After a while, you sank into the pleasantly hot water and began to wait. More precisely, at first you were really relaxing, but with every passing minute you were rather waiting for Oliver more than enjoying the process. But he did not come.

"Damn," you swore inwardly, and just as you were starting to think about getting out of the bath and getting ready, Oliver walked into the room.

"Hello!-" you started.

"Hi," he replied shortly and walked into his room, hardly looking at you. What?

You changed your mind about getting out of the bathtub right now and decided to sit in it until something would happen. About 5 minutes later Oliver came out, dressed in a domestic white tank top and stiped blue boxers. Your stomach turned over from this intimacy of his outfit. He went to his bathroom table, turned the water on and, as if nothing had happened, began to brush his teeth. He didn't start a conversation with you.

"So, uh, how was your day?" you began hesitantly, turning your head towards him.

"We played tennis, then took a dip in the pool, and then I enjoyed reading in the evening. Well, you’ve seen it."

"Yeah, that’s great..."

"And how was yours?"

"Not like... how I thought it would pass. I think I feel weird..."

"It must be because you didn't sleep well today. Go to bed early, yeah?"

"Huh? Yeah, I guess..."

You were a little lost. You looked at Oliver from behind, but he didn't turn to you. Of course, he was looking at you in the mirror again. He was a little on edge right now. This evening was not going quite the way he had imagined, but it was even intriguing.

The thing was that he had decided not to do anything with the second bathroom today. He overheard a conversation that the first bathroom had not been repaired again today, as the workers had confused the date and would arrive only tomorrow. So, it was even interesting for him to put it in the hands of fate. Would Venetia take over the only left bathroom again? Or would you just come in and innocently, hiding your gaze, ask Felix again or even Oliver himself if you could use their the bathroom again. Or maybe you would silently, struggling with your shame and desire, come to their bathroom and use it, hoping that something similar to the previous time would happen? Oh, he would definitely make your desires, which you were still afraid to admit to yourself, come true.

But no. You came to him and lied to him about the second bathroom, looking straight into his eyes.

"So, Y/N, do you want to remain innocent, but at the same time you know how to lie in your favor? It's interesting. You're beautiful and you did take a sacred bath, and now you really think you can be Artemis in every sense? No, no, no. No. Dear, there can only be one hunter here, and that's me," Oliver thought to himself, "And if you want to play on my field, well, I'll show you how it’s done."

With these thoughts, Oliver bit his lip contentedly, continuing to read the book while you left the library, but his thoughts drifted further and further away from the subject of reading.

At first, he wanted to nonchalantly go into the bathroom and, while he was brushing his teeth, catch your glances with his skin, hear your rapid breathing and catch the sounds of your feet fidgeting in the water. Then, having played enough with this longing, he would help you get out of the bathroom, wipe your beautiful naked hot body with his towel, hold your hands and take you to his room, where he would give you all the pleasure you would wish for. And this time he would have taken everything he wanted from you, enjoying you at its fullest.

But no.

You left your stuff on Felix's side. You took his towels. He told you not to do that.

His teeth almost bit his toothbrush in half when he saw it through the mirror. Was it an act of defiance, a way to attract extra attention, or a way to cause jealousy? Y/N, don't be a fool. But he hated to admit it, that some kind of jealousy had appeared in him anyway, and he was mad about it. No, don't you even dare to think that way. You were his, you would be only his.

The mood for a slow and sensual night has evaporated completely. Right now, Oliver could only bend you over and fuck you properly. Yes, that would be sweet too. But still, he didn't want to ruin everything and start your relationship like this. He'd better go to bed now, and tomorrow he’d know better.

"So, I'm going to bed, too. Good night, Y/N," Oliver said calmly, clutching the toothbrush in his hands with all his might, making it almost break it a second time.

You were left alone in the bathroom. What had happened? Were you too persistent, and Oliver was upset by your persistence? Or was he really that angry about your stuff left on Felix's table? It also occurred to you that he somehow intuitively felt and was upset about your lies, but of course he couldn't know that. But you still felt somehow guilty.

After getting out of the bathtub and draining the water, you dried yourself with a towel and, putting on your bathrobe, leaned your hands on the sink on Felix's side. You looked in the mirror and thought what should you do. No, you couldn't just walk away, there was too much left unsaid.

*Knock-knock*

"Oliver!"

The door opened a crack, in front of you there was Quick looking out of the darkness with his bright blue eyes. He took off his tank top and wore boxers only. You involuntarily looked at his beautiful torso, on which was nothing on but one chain, glittering on the neck. You gulped.

"Yes?" he asked in a low, hoarse voice.

"Can we talk?" this time it was you who walked into his room without waiting for an invitation or even more so a refusal.

You stepped into his dark, moonlit room. He stood a few inches away and silently looked you up and down. You continued, "You've been acting kind of weird all day, I'm sorry if this is me who..."

"Sorry" was enough for his pride and patience right now.

He silently pulled you to him, kissing you. You were very surprised, but you gave yourself up to this kiss with joy. Oliver kissed you passionately and long, then he took your hand and pulled you towards his bed. He carefully loosened the belt of your robe, admiring you from head to toe. Then he gently but abruptly threw you onto the bed and fell on top of you, leaning on his elbows and knees. Quick started kissing your neck, leaving hot prints of his lips on it, then he kissed your collarbone, then the place between your breasts. You started hugging him harder. Oliver continued his way down, kissing the place under your breasts and then slid his tongue over your stomach all the way to the bottom. You exhaled loudly, moving one hand to his soft hair on his head and squeezing it slightly.

He breathed out contentedly, and you could feel his smile on your skin. Then he cast a brief lustful glance at you, and went down even lower, to the most desired place. He kissed your inner thigh and then placed his lips on your folds. You felt his hot breath for a few seconds, as if he was enjoying this moment and didn't believe in it himself. Those few seconds seemed like an eternity to you, until he ran his tongue over your folds. You were already wet, so wet.

The tip of his tongue began to slowly glide up and down into the sensitive flesh all across your pussy, you left a sharp gasp. It was almost an electric feeling. Then he buried his mouth into you and started to run circles inside you with his wet and hot tongue. You began to moan softly while twitching your legs a little.

His hands were gripping your thighs, pulling your body even closer to his mouth. You buried both of your hands into his dark hair, letting a deep moan. Oliver was massaging your flesh from the inside, he was eating you out, almost humming to himself. Then he returned to caress your sensitive clit. You arched your back and you let out whine, burying hands deeper into his soft locks, almost tugging them. He let out satisfied pant and you looked down at him.

Gosh, he looked absolutely breathtaking, giving you a glare back with his piercing blue eyes on a half-seen face between your legs. And all this was happening in his moonlit room, like in some dark fairytale. It gave you a jolt of pleasure to the point you almost came.

He accelerated his pace and pressure until you tilted back your head and let out a long moan. You began to buck your hips but his hands were holding you firmly it almost hurt. His tongue got sloppy and messy as he feverishly caressed you. You couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Oliver!..” you cried out his name, clenching his head with your legs, his strong hands released the grip.

He raised his head with lips and chin glistening in the dark, panting and smiling. He was looking at your bliss, the result of his work, with indescribable delight. Oliver looked absolutely stunning that way, being covered in your bliss that he gave to you. You had almost come for the second time at that view.

"I'm very glad that you liked it. And now," he leaned up to kiss you briefly on the lips, "It's time to go to bed. Sweet dreams, Y/N, tomorrow will definitely be a better day."

You were surprised that he wanted to end it, but you were barely thinking and were still beside yourself with bliss, so, as if in a fog, you pulled on your bathrobe, nodded to Oliver and left on fast but wobbly legs. It was like you were bewitched and you didn't do it all yourself, but at someone's behest.

Oliver smiled contentedly, falling back onto the bed.

"Sorry" was enough for his pride and patience, but not to the point where he could completely control himself and not break into a rage that would just tear you apart if he met his desires utterly.

Thus, tonight it would be his hand again, but this was definitely for the last time. Tomorrow he would be counting on your hands and not only on them.

* * *

Tomorrow was definitely a better day. Your appetite had returned, Oliver secretly was moving to you plates with pastries and fruits. You smiled and happily ate everything he offered.

But what happened in the last few nights seemed to remain only there. During the day, there was some kind of different, still a little tense atmosphere. Except that the ambiguity was replaced by a more agitated expectation and intrigue. It was still difficult for both of you to do small talks when the pictures of previous nights were so vivid in your heads.

Tonight was going to be a busy night, because James and Elspeth's friends, numerous Henrys and their wives, came to Saltburn. You also knew many of them, so you spent the whole evening in lively conversations with the exchange of news over the past year, endlessly promising to send greetings to your parents. Oliver seemed to be a little lost, especially at dinner, but you were seated quite far from each other, so even if you decided to talk to him, you couldn't do it. But you nodded at him from the other end of the table, lighting up the whole evening with your smile. He felt much less alone from that moment onwards.

The dinner was sumptuous, and numerous flowers and candles rested on the dark mirrored table, the candlelight danced beautifully on the faces of wining and dining guests. You stole a glance at Oliver - God, how handsome he was in this evening tuxedo, did he know that? You had a growing desire to get alone with him, but you had absolutely no idea how you could do it unnoticeably, and generally... take the initiative. You wouldn’t go to his bathroom for the third time, would you?

The evening was followed by a karaoke night led by DJ Farleigh. Everyone was having fun, singing along and clapping each other, it didn't matter if someone sang noticeably badly or really very well. Although “uncle” Henry's performance to the song “Low" was already too much, especially at the moment when you almost got smashed by his thrown jacket.

"Good Lord, give me strength," you thought, and then changed your prayer, turning your head to the side at Henry's wife, who eventually got his jacket right in her face, "Although no, please better give this woman strength."

Felix had been gallantly pouring you wine half the evening, asking how your mood was, and made funny comments about the guests. Then Venetia came, you also had a drink with her and a lively talk, and then she and her brother went to stand in a corner while smoking cigarettes, hilariously dancing to karaoke songs. Elspeth walked and chatted charmingly with the guests, and James sometimes eagerly but out of pace clapped to the rhythm of modern dance floor hits with often dubious lyrics.

Oliver was sitting on the opposite couch almost all this time, drinking some kind of tropical long. You didn't talk to him much during karaoke, but the conversation with his eyes was more than enough. His expressive orbs alternated between looking at you and following your rolling gaze as you watched another Henry who was making another drunken joke. And then his eyes started to burn a hole in you more and more, but he still remained silent and did not approach. Okay. In a different state, you may had started overthinking it or getting upset again, but not now. Now you were drunk enough to perform some karaoke hit and tell him everything with it. Well, telling something, at least.

"Farleigh!" you shouted, pointing at him.

"Yes!" he poked his finger at you in response, holding the microphone.

"Toxic" by Britney Spears!" you said, calling out a few "o-o-o-ohs" from the audience.

"Great!" the DJ of the evening grinned, putting the right song and giving the microphone to you.

The familiar sounds of a sampled violin came in, and then your voice followed:

Baby, can't you see I'm calling?

A guy like you should wear a warning

It's dangerous, I'm falling

There's no escape, I can't wait

I need a hit, baby, give me it

You're dangerous, I'm loving it

You sang, turning to Oliver and looking into his eyes. He sucked his cocktail out of a straw and then put it on the floor without breaking eye contact with you.

Too high, can't come down

Losing my head, spinning 'round and 'round

Do you feel me now?

He was sitting on the couch in his smart black tux, leaning back slightly and spreading his legs wide. Oliver was listening to you so attentively, as if this was not a Britney song, but some kind of revelation addressed only for him to comprehend.

With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride

You're toxic, I'm slipping under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I'm addicted to you

Don't you know that you're toxic?

And I love what you do

Don't you know that you're toxic?

He grinned at you. You started swinging your hips slightly while you were singing. Oliver licked his lips lightly.

It's getting late to give you up

I took a sip from my devil's cup

Slowly, it's taking over me

What a confession. Or was it a call?

You kept singing while everyone else supported you and sang along too. Farleigh danced to the beat of the music, and Felix and Venetia just had a separate party in the corner of the room, as if they were really at a Britney concert, and not karaoke party, where their friend finally decided to sing, being a little drunk. Elspeth and James, somehow in an old-fashioned, but a very sweet way danced sitting on the couch. All this support from the Cattons was especially pleasant and inspired me to sing the song even more boldly!

Intoxicate me now with your loving now

I think I'm ready now (I think I'm ready now)

Intoxicate me now with your loving now

I think I'm ready now

Yes, it was definitely a call. Oliver shifted on the couch, outwardly remaining calm, but deep inside he just had a storm of emotions and desires.

Artemis was luring her Actaeon again.

The living room burst with applause and cheering. It was not that you sang better than the original, but still, this song had already become an everyone’s favourite hit, which could not be disliked in any case. And you sang charismatically, not to mention your body movements. You scored 100 points! And to Oliver it was all 200.

You chatted for a while with Felix and Venetia and one of the Henrys, who jumped up to you, drank more wine after such brave karaoke performance, and then sneaked out of the room, realizing that you urgently need to use the restroom. Your head was a little dizzy, but you got to that very bathroom of yours which actually worked fine. Having done all the necessary things, you began to wash your face and stood for a long time at the sink with the faucet open, gradually coming to your senses. Ugh, you shouldn’t drink like that, otherwise it won't be clear if you can remember the rest of the evening. And you really wanted the most interesting things to be just ahead.

"Oliver!"

He was standing against the wall opposite the bathroom exit.

"How did you know that you... that I... that I would go here and not, say, to your bathroom again?"

"Very simply, Y/N. You're drunk right now, and thus, you will most likely reach the place that you are most familiar with. Like on an autopilot. I decided that you use your bathroom more often than mine."

You thought about it. Indeed, everything was so simple when he explained it. He must be much more sober.

It was a good thing you left before Farleigh decided to make Oliver sing karaoke. It was unexpected and humiliating, very humiliating, but he turned the situation in his favor by handing the microphone back to Farleigh at the most ambiguous moment of the song. Soon it would be Farleigh paying his own "Rent". Fortunately, no one read this subtext except the two of them. Oliver wasn't worried much about that right now, he had more important things to do tonight, so he went looking for you, fortunately, it wasn't difficult at all.

"So, you sing," he stated, pulling away from the wall and leisurely approached you.

"Not really, more like when I have a little drink, huh..."

"Are you feeling better now, Y/N?"

"Yes, much better, thank you," you said, still musing, "And also I sing when there is a good reason for it"

Oliver came close to you, and leaning into your ear, asked, "Am I a good enough reason?"

You looked into his eyes, "What do you think..." and reached out to kiss him. The taste of your wine mixed with the taste of his sweet strong cocktails. "It seems he drank more than I thought after all, how is he holding up so well?" you wondered, but soon you lost the thread of thought when his tongue, even more saturated with alcohol, penetrated your mouth.

With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride

You're toxic, I'm slipping under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I'm addicted to you

Don't you know that you're toxic?

Those lines from the song started spinning in your head again while your tongues were spinning in their own dance. You started to lose the feeling of the ground under your feet, but Oliver held you tight. But you still got to lean more on his sturdy body under that beautiful black and white suit.

Then, barely interrupting your kisses, you moved into your bedroom. It was lit by the moonlight, just like Oliver's bedroom last night. He began to take off your dress, gently kissing your shoulder. Then, you helped him undo your bra and stepped out of the shoes. At this time, he was taking off his tux without taking his eyes off you. He looked at you ecstatically from head to toe.

"Beautiful, so beautiful. Did I tell you that already?"

You nodded, smiling.

"I'll say it again. You're so fuckin’ beautiful," Oliver said with his deep sexy accent.

At these words, you became completely aroused and let out an inaudible moan, as he threw you on the bed, just like yesterday. After kissing you on the lips, he immediately went down on you, caressing your most sensitive part with his tongue and squeezing your hips harder than before. You shifted on the bed, entangling with his soft dark locks, and began to moan softly.

Oliver himself was also damn attractive, to say the least. His strong, slender stripped body covered yours, and only the chain was dangling on his neck. For some reason, this detail turned you on especially hard. Finally, you saw him completely naked, not just a couple of times in the tall grass, but right in your bedroom, when he was pressing you to the bed, towering over you. What a view.

His tongue was flicking over your clit, Oliver was almost moaning into your cunt as he eats you. You squeezed his head between your legs so hard, but he wouldn’t pull back. He was groaning and licking you relentlessly.

You were so close to orgasm, but he stopped and reached for your face, greedily kissing your lips with his shiny lips, this time for a long enough time so that you could taste your own arousal. It drove you crazy.

"Now you know just a little bit how delicious you are, Y/N," Oliver almost breathed those words right into your mouth.

He pulled himself up to you, and you felt his hard cock pressing against you. You put your hand on it, which made Oliver exhale sharply. Resting on his hands, he lifted up a little while you caressed it with your hand. He looked lasciviously at you, as your hand was moving up and down, stroking his dick. Then he hugged you and rolled over on the bed with you, and you were on top now. You sank lower, carefully wrapping your lips around his cock. He tilted his head back, mouth half open. The feel of your soft lips and warm tongue almost drove Oliver crazy. He put one hand in your hair, gently running it through.

"Yes, dear Y/N, that's it..."

"My sweet Y/N..."

Then you, without stopping your actions, looked him straight in the eyes. It was too much, and Oliver groaned and gently released you, turning you back down under him. His cock was harder than the steel of any sword that was in this manor.

"Do you know what is the best thing about a karaoke night, besides your amazing number?" asked Oliver and gave the answer himself, "It's that you can scream and moan all over the house, as loudly as you want. Or whatever I want it to be."

Those words flooded you with moisture, and at that moment Oliver entered you.

He gave you a moment to adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried deep inside of you. He exhaled, full of admiration and lust.

"Gods, Y/N, you’re so tight," he said breathlessly, kissing you. You started moaning into his mouth as he began to move. The pace of his hips was leisurely at the start, gently rolling into yours, your eyes were connected to each other. His strong arms caged your twitching body under him. It all felt so good you were afraid that you might just woke up from some kind of dream or fantasy that you had, thinking of Oliver and falling asleep.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as he increased his pace. Soon, the speed of his pounding becoming relentless as his panting and your own moans. You wrapped your legs around his body, nails digging into his back as you gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper into you.

“Fuck, girl, moan for me, yeah. Let the whole house know who is giving it to you, that pleasure,” Oliver’s hot whisper almost burned your skin.

You let out the loudest groan as he began slamming into you, driving to the edge of existence. The entire floor was really filled with your screams of pleasure, echoing in the dark. His hips slap against yours loudly, shaking the old bed. He clenched his teeth, watching the way your doe eyes look up at him, eyes were full of sensuality and desire. Oh, how beautiful and docile you were, he could not believe himself it was all happening at least.

You clenched around him and soon you arched your back, his name fell from your lips. He followed later soon, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he was doing last movements with his hips.

You went soft and limp under him as he panted with his hoarse voice in your ear. Oliver exhaled contentedly, triumphantly smirking.

You changed your position by lying down next to each other. For a while, you both just lay silently in bed, recovering your breath and feeling the spreading bliss to every cell of your bodies. Quick began to slowly and gently stroke and caress your body, leaving a weightless touch on your skin. He gently brushed two knuckles of his finger against your soft cheek.

"Oliver," you whispered into the darkness.

"Yes, Y/N?" he said, playing with your hair.

"Tell me, you've liked me since Oxford, haven't you? At first, I didn't even realise it, but in recent days I've been thinking so much about our acquaintance and how you looked at me then… So I thought it might be true..."

Oliver chuckled softly.

"Yes, my clever Y/N, you're absolutely right. I lost my head about you nearly as soon as I saw you. Seems you can't hide the truth from you."

You smiled, snuggling closer to him, "It's so good that you also got to Saltburn this summer," you mused, "Maybe, it is some kind of fate."

Oliver smiled at your words, gently tucking a lock behind your ear.

"Yes, I guess, it is."

The mixture of satisfaction, happiness and alcohol acted on you like a magic potion, and soon you peacefully fell asleep on his shoulder. Oliver was very glad that it was your room and you didn't have to be disturbed in any way. Saltburn had his own eyes and ears, it was not worth creating unnecessary rumors now. He wasn't in a position here to be able to afford it, at least, not now.

He kissed you gently on the temple and carefully left your bed, dressing up in his tuxedo and returning to the living room.

The fun continued. The hunt was a success.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 22

Part 1 Part 21

It’s either very late or very early. The early rays of dawn light are just barely shining through the windshield. It’s warm on Will’s face in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. That place had been cold. It had been dark. He had been alone.

And then there was Eddie and Steve. Their hands were warm on his shoulder, on his cheek. Their quiet voices are a balm to the bleakness blooming in his lungs. They’d saved him, time and again. And now Eddie’s catatonic in the seat beside him, and Steve is still there. In the dark. Alone. 

Where WIll had left him. 

Barbara’s looking out the window on his other side, leaning as far away from him as possible, like she can feel the darkness that he can still feel clinging to him from that place.  In the front seat, Jonathan’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Nancy’s vibrating in the passenger seat, twitching like she’s bursting for a fight.

Will doesn’t know why any of these people are here, or where they’re going. He doesn’t know much of anything anymore. 

The unasked question is answered when Jonathan pulls into the driveway. He’s home. 

The house is in shambles when he walks in. Christmas lights hang, unlit from the ceiling like they’d been strung up in a hurry. The dining room table is overturned, chairs upside down, boxes scattered to and fro. Will doesn’t know what happened here, and that unknowing makes the pit finally sink into his stomach. He’s been gone. He doesn’t know how long, but it’s written into the disarray of their home. He’s been gone. 

“Mom?” Jonathan calls. 

Will stands on the threshold, something tightening in his throat. For a second, he swears there’s ash raining down. Blinks and it’s gone.

“Mom?” Jonathan calls again, louder.

Barbara and Nancy follow him in. Eddie stands by his side, slinging his arm around his shoulders, warm like forgiveness. “Come on, baby Byers.” Talking sounds like it hurts him. Will lets himself be led.

Jonathan comes back from his walkthrough of the house. “She’s not here,” he says. Will nods, leans further into Eddie’s side. There’s a funny look on Jonathan’s face that he’s never seen before. It congeals in his throat until he’s hiccuping on it. “Oh, hey, she’s just been spending a lot of time with the Chief. Trying to get you back.”

She’d sounded so desperate on the phone, and when the lights started flickering. He’d heard his Mom and Lonnie talking once, back when things weren’t good between them, but a little better. Lonnie had said, “no one should have to bury their own kid,” and his Mom had sucked in a breath like even the thought was enough to leave her breathless. 

There’d been a story in the newspaper that day about a kid two towns over drowning in the river. His Mom’s hug was extra hard that day.

He wants her arms now. She’ll know how to bring Eddie back from the brink, and get Steve out of that place where everything is wrong. She can do anything.

“How long has it been?” He doesn’t realize he’s the one who asked until Eddie squeezes his shoulders.

Jonathan takes a step back, like Will’s question hit him like a slap. Nancy takes a step forward, opens her mouth, and answers. “Five days.” 

It seems like too long and not long enough. He feels tainted, permanently changed from being out of school for a week. 

“So, four days for me and Steve?” Eddie asks.

“When did you two get there?” Nancy asks.

Did anyone even know they were missing? Did anyone look for them like they had for Will? 

“At that party,” Eddie says. “When you and Steve had your little, uh, lovers quarrel.” The last part comes out biting and bitter, like Eddie’s a dog being fed rancid meat, but he’s too hungry not to eat. 

“Oh,” Nancy says, looking down at her white tennis shoes. Everyone in this house looks like a real person – real and clean and alive. Will’s not sure what crawled out of the hole in that place in his place, but he’s not sure it’s alive.

His insides are gnawing at him, writhing like they’re alive.

“What now?” Barbara asks.

“Now, we feed the squirt here,” Eddie says, shaking Will around like a ragdoll, “and then we get Steve the fuck out of there.”

Jonathan and Nancy make sandwiches. Will wonders if Eddie’s tastes like sawdust, too. 

“We should go to his parents, right?” Barbara asks, picking at her own sandwich disinterestedly.

“No,” Will says, just at the same time as Eddie says, “No fucking way!”

Barbara widens her eyes, clearly shocked. She hadn’t been there when Steve seemed like he’d rather gnaw his own arm off than go to his house to try and call his own parents. She’s never lived with the looming shadow of Lonnie Byers pacing outside her bedroom door in the middle of the night.

“There’s no way they’ve even realized Steve is missing,” Eddie says, vehemently, “much less care.”

Jonathan shoots Will a look, and Will knows they’ve both mentally inducted Steve Harrington into the bad dad’s club. Maybe Eddie, too. 

“Then, what?” Barbara asks with a sigh, clearly done with their shit. 

“We have to find it again,” Nancy says.

Barbara looks at her best friend like she’s never seen her before. “You want to go back out there?”

“Maybe we don’t have to.”  she says, folding her hands primly on the table, even as her eyes go flinty and hard. “When I saw it, it was feeding on a dead deer, meaning it’s a predator, right?” No one responds, so she keeps going. “And it seems to hunt at night, like a lion or a coyote.”

“It got me and Steve at night,” Eddie says.

“Me, too,” Will contributes, when everyone looks at him. “I fell off my bike and scraped my hands. It got in the house.”

“You were bleeding?” Eddie asks, turning fully in his chair to bore holes into Will’s head until he nods. He sinks into his chair, knocking his head backward to stare up at the ceiling. “At the party, Steve punched the wall. His knuckles were bleeding.”

It comes out lifeless. Will wants to beg him to stay here at the table with them, not drift back into his mind where no one can follow. But, Steve and Eddie seem a lot like him and Mike, intrinsically linked until one doesn’t seem right without the other, like best friends always are. 

He hopes Mike is okay. 

“Of course he did,” Barbara mutters.

Eddie comes back to life at the comment to snarl at the girl. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Okay!” Nancy says, raising her hands palm up, placating. “We all want Steve back, right?” Everyone nods, even Barbara with her pursed mouth and cold eyes.  “It's just a theory, but sharks can detect blood in one part per million, that’s one drop in a million, and they can smell it from a quarter mile away.”

“So, you’re saying it can detect blood?” Jonathan asks.

“It’s just a theory,” Nancy replies.

“We could test it,” Will says. “But if it works.” He doesn’t finish the thought. He never wants to see the Demogorgon again, but for Steve, he will. Steve Harrington had saved his life, and then Will had taken Eddie away from him. 

“At least we’ll know it’s coming,” Eddie says, as only a person who’d been surprised by it too many times. “And we’ll be ready. 

Part 23

[cherrychilli]

18+

AFAB reader, oral sex(f), face sitting

A/N: Inspiration struck when I watched Pamela Anderson's In the Bag video for British Vogue. If you've seen it then you know where I'm going with this. Also, I usually try to avoid giving reader any specific physical characteristics but in order for this particular drabble to work I've described her as having hair that's long enough to be tied up.

You pass by a trail of Steve's belongings on your way upstairs. Keys on the floor by the front door, having completely missed the little cerulean bowl that usually contained them on the entryway table. His jacket's been shed at the bottom of the staircase, one shoe abandoned on a step mid way up the flight and the other turned on it's side on the landing. When you step inside his bedroom you're only mildly surprised to find him sprawled out on the floor staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

The urge to lightheartedly tease him about the dramatics is there until your heart falters at the sight of the despondent look on his face. "Rough day, huh?", you greet him as you shut the door behind you. The sound of your voice makes him turn his head towards you, cheek resting against carpet as he meets your soft eyes with his tired ones. Yup, it had definitely been one of those days where everything had gone wrong at work, you knew for certain now.

"Your hair looks nice like that", he compliments your tousled up do, voice soft and weary from his exhausting shift. "Thanks", you brush a few imaginary strands away from your face, something indiscernible clouding your expression before relaxing again. He notices but doesn't comment. Whatever had flashed across your face is gone now and your familiar smile remains.

You take a few steps closer towards the heap on the floor that is your boyfriend.

"Gonna stay down there?", you peered at him, bottom lip pushing into a little pout.

The question triggers more dramatics. Steve releases a deep sigh before making a mock effort at getting up, slowly lifting his arms up before letting them flop lifelessly back down to the soft floor.

"Guess so", he answers, looking more spent by the second.

You take another step closer.

"Anything I can do to cheer you up?", you offer sweetly.

He gives you weary smile as he shakes his head. Steve appreciates your gesture and despite his lack of energy, having you here was more than enough to comfort him. He tells you as much and you take a few more steps until you're leaning over him, palms flattened over the front of your tennis skirt.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to make you feel better?", you ask again, voice airy and sweet like spun sugar as you slowly pick up the hem of your skirt. Steve's half lidded gaze turns wide, mouth falling open as he springs up to prop himself on his elbows.

He looks plenty recharged now.

He stares mutely for a few seconds before finally asking, "angel, where're your panties?"

You giggle, dropping your skirt to untie your hair. Steve watches your locks come loose, jaw dropping lower when you toss something silk and peachy into his lap. "I got hot during my drive over and I didn't have a hair tie. So, I improvised", you gave him a coy little shrug. Caramel eyes darting to inspect the makeshift hair tie, Steve pinches the soft material of the skimpy G-string between his fingers, head feeling full of static. "That's...wow", he declares in a daze.

Another giggle from you has him scrambling to his knees, hands hungrily smoothing up your thighs. "Lemme look again -baby, please?". He's like a hummingbird zeroing in on a posy of the sweetest honeysuckle and you can't help the quiet glee it brings you to know that you're the reason why. You take your bottom lip between your teeth, spreading your legs a little before lifting your skirt for him again.

Fuck

Steve takes another moment to stare at your bare pussy, fingers skimming higher and higher. With nothing there to catch your slick, a clear bead of arousal travels down your inner thigh getting closer and closer to your knee. He watches it glide along your skin, parting his lips to find the drop with his tongue. You hiss as it leaves your skin even wetter, knees trembling while he licks his way up to your folds. "Stevie, when I came over- shit, I wanted- I wanted..., fuck Steve, I'm supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around", you stutter and scold shakily. You're convinced that your complaint's gone unnoticed when he groans into you, nose bumping your clit. You tug on his hair after an involuntary buck of your hips and he pulls away to direct his eyes up at you. His pupils are blown, lips pink and plush and glistening.

"Still wanna cheer me up?", he asked, one of his hands slipping higher to squeeze your ass.

"Of course", you breathed out your reply.

"Sit on my face"

He's back to being flat on the bedroom floor, this time in much higher spirits as he excitedly rambles about how good you taste and how long he's waited to try this. It's endearing in a way but you choose to concentrate on lowering yourself carefully, placing your knees on either side of his head, dripping core hovering inches away from his mouth. Steve waits long enough for you to balance yourself with one hand pressed against his chest before he's pulling you down by your hips, fervently sucking on your puffy folds. You yelp, free hand shooting out to grasp his hair again because it's so much so fast. "Shit, Steve- slow down...", your voice wavers, tapering into a moan as he flicks your clit with his tongue. He's ravenous between your legs, tongue fitting between your folds to lick and slip into your clenching hole, lips trapping your throbbing clit and sucking until he can feel your thighs tense and quiver sporadically beneath his fingers.

The heat building inside you is careening towards molten. More broken moans and high pitched whimpers of his name spill out of you between the occasional gasp, not even realizing that you've begun to grind your cunt against his mouth.

"Ohmygod- fuck fuck fuck- Steve I'm clo-", your eyes snap shut, white flashing behind your pinched eyelids. You've misjudged how close you really were but his strong hands keep you balanced when your hips spasm and rock messily through your orgasm. The scrape of your nails on his scalp compels Steve to suck harder and pulse his tongue against your swollen clit faster, only showing you mercy after the third sharp tug on his hair and the sound of your squealing when you near overstimulation.

His fingers leave indents on your hips as he releases you, sure to bloom into bruises tomorrow. You pant, using what little strength you have left to lift yourself and flop down onto your back besides Steve. When you turn to look at him your cheeks turn hot again. He's soaked. His lips, his jaw, his chin, his cheeks, his neck.

He's never looked happier.

"Good, huh?", he nudges your arm gently with his elbow, giving you a smile that told you he was pretty pleased with himself.

You roll your eyes at him playfully, too spent to get snarky.

"That definitely improved my mood", he lets out a dreamy sigh.

"Mine too", you replied with a sated smile.

[fairytsuk1]

cupid's arrow | (s)

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

pairing: izuku midoriya x reader

words: 8.3k

prompt: "getting set up by their lovely grandmas, who always go to the same café and gush about their grandkids"

warnings: teasing game, public sex, quickie, protected sex, tit play, praise kink, missionary position, soft dom!midoriya

The retirement home was an amalgamation of both good and evil. It had the finest foods for delicate denture havers and was home to some of life’s more depressing thought processes. You preferred being able to drive over the speed limit as the city air lashed at your face; being young and carefree was much more appealing. However, this couldn’t be your reality anymore as you knew your grandmother needed you more than ever. Things were about to change. You’d be moving onto bigger steps in your life! Finding a partner, making a home together, advancing in your career…

Before leaving for the retirement home, you hoped you’d be walking out of there glimmering with adjusting to adulthood. No games or silly adventures, a part of you lit up at the idea of this summer excursion changing your life. You really, really hoped it would.

You smooth your tennis skirt over your thighs, ankles crossing and a warm smile gracing your features when your grandmother waltz in with house slippers and an old tea set. The smell of earthy leaves wafts into your nose, and you already know she’s made two steaming cups of green tea before she pours it.

“Nana, you know you don’t have to make anything when I visit,” you’d figured she’d stop making cookies past your twelfth birthday, but she clearly planned to wave you off every single time.

Snarkily, your grandmother rolls her eyes and takes a slurping sip of her tea.

“It’s not about that. It’s about keeping ancient traditions! We’re family, and that means grandmothers make their grandchildren tea!”

She nods, pleased with herself, and her eyes are closed as she savors the grass notes, the feeling of toastiness, and the mild sweetness. Your eyebrows twitch, and you miss how she does the same once she’s placed her cup back down.

“Mhm, it’s very good, did you taste the grass?” you swallow and nod, “yes, me too. So… Have you found a boyfriend yet?”

You’re in the process of drinking more tea but her comment startles you; the cup is hastily set back on the coffee table and leaving a liquid trail in its wake. Practically spitting out your tea, you’re quick to wipe your mouth with a napkin and set the record straight.

“Huh?! Where is that coming from? …I don’t, but why are you asking, nana?”

She’s got this unreadable look on her face. Then, she’s giving you this cheeky grin and sighing wistfully as if thinking of a past lover. You’re curling your fingers into your palms, nearly shaking in anticipation as her hands rub together sneakily.

“It’s my friend’s grandson! You know me. Always talking, but if I were you, I’d snatch him right up! He’s strong, and he’s got bright green eyes! They’d compliment yours so well,” and she’s scooting forward in her seat, “you will like him! He’s a very nice boy.”

Nana’s been gossiping again. You’re relieved she wasn’t trying to reconnect you and former lovers (an activity that had proven to be unsuccessful, twice.) Still, the idea of her pitching you to random strangers like an ATM card makes your face twist in an attempt to tell her how you really feel.

“I-I don’t know, nana. I’m not even sure if I’m looking for anything right now,” and you were right. 

A relationship seemed like a huge step, and this was supposed to be your summer “boss up” phase. To be honest, you weren’t sure if you had trust in your grandma’s romantic instincts for matchmaking either. A wrinkled hand covers yours, and your nana is beaming with her body leaned towards you.

“Tell you what, he will be here for breakfast tomorrow morning. You don’t have to do much, but you should see him in person! Get to know him a little.”

You let the offer hang in the air for a moment before shrugging.

“...I guess I can do that. I don’t want this to become an everyday thing, though! I came here to spend time with you, nana. Not with some guy!”

Nana had already returned to sipping her tea and nodded before licking her lips.

“Of course, dear. However, if you like this Midoriya as much as I think you will, you’ll end up regretting saying that!”

You take a sip, and two pairs of eyebrows raise. You doubted it. This “Midoriya” person was probably some nerdy guy that didn’t know how to talk to girls. It didn’t matter anyways, so on that fateful day you brushed mascara on thick lashes and made sure your lips looked as plump as ever in your pink lip gloss. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, not at all!

Something in your gut had just told you to make an effort, but it was hard to tell whether this gut feeling was good or bad.

The situation had proven that you needed to take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror. He wasn’t ugly, no. He was anything but. He was so handsome that as you and your grandmother circled the table to sit, your foot caught on the leg of the table. Practically every brain cell had been focused on the promise of muscles under his white button-up plus the extra show of solid, veiny forearms. He was hot.

“This is my friend, Kotoe! And this is her grandson, Izuku Midoriya! He’s the one I brought up to you last night,” and for the first time, you’re aware of how red Midoriya looks; maybe he was thinking the same things about you.

Kotoe grins widely, and the wave crashes on you and Midoriya because the embarrassment of the situation keeps getting worse. First, the table. Then, he’s watching you as you settle yourself across from him. This feels more like you’re being judged than trying to link up with someone.

“You remember her, right? I showed you that picture of her at that one band performance.”

Your pride is fatally wounded, but you’re even more aghast that one of the cutest boys you’ve ever seen is actually seeing you for the second time. The idea that Midoriya’s first impression was of you with braces and frizzy hair left you feeling like you could melt into your seat effortlessly.

Nana guiltily peruses the menu, but you know there’s no one else that has that picture. You’d tried to erase every copy of it but… she had her ways.

“Nana.”

She grins sheepishly while fluffing her curls, “it’s not my fault your mother only sends me photos when she feels like it. You look cute in the photo!”

If you didn’t stop her now, maybe nothing could. Along with this setting not seeming like the right time to discuss the ins and outs of your family relationships, you turn to Midoriya and smile warmly. 

“Right. Well, Midoriya, it’s nice to meet you. You’re lucky you were spared from the dreaded band photo. I’m jealous,” with a hair flip for good measure.

She’s so cute, he thinks.

“If only you could have the same fate.”

It’s so boyish, so ridiculous, and it makes your heart-beat rabbit fast because it’s not fair that his voice is gentle yet had an edge to it. His smile and even the licking of lips were uncalled for. He was charming you way too easily. How long had you two been sitting here again? 

He’s tuning you like a fiddle to his chosen song, and you play beautifully. You need fresh air, so your cup of water is gulped down to curb the romantic-tension fever rising inside you. 

Your grandmother and Kotoe fall into conversation like it’s natural. Midoriya keeps taking tentative glances at you but looking away before something productive happens, so you begin to copy him; now you just feel like you’re in the hall of mirrors.

“So, Midoriya… Do you go to university?”

“I-I do! I’m an archaeology major with a minor in history! It’s a lot of nerdy stuff, but it’s more interesting than calculus!”

His eyes sparkle at the topic, and the passion leaking through his words is evident. It’s cute, and your cheeks lift without thinking about it. He’s infectious, and in a bad way.

The type of infection where every glance feels like slow motion, and your brain skips ahead to when his mouth is on yours, and his hands are tugging, pulling, squeezing…

“That’s really cool! I’ve never heard of someone majoring in something like that! I’m doing public administration; it’s like political science but not really.”

Midoriya can’t wait to dig his hands into you and bury his cock deep inside you, but he can’t think about that right now. He mentally files away the memories of your shy looks so he can wrap a fist around himself in the shower later as he thinks of ruining your tight little pussy.

“No, yeah, that’s brave stuff to do! That can be in any sector, right? Public, private, and all of that.”

Both brains come to rest on the same wavelength as the same thought swirls in and out of two opposite gender heads.

I wanna fuck you.

“Yeah! Yeah, it can be,” your legs cross to lessen the pulsing between your legs.

“I kind of get it! History is so broad that it throws people off a bit,” Midoriya presses a palm to his aching cock as discreetly as possible.

The two of you try to avoid letting your need spill over past inappropriate boundaries. You both don’t realize that notion was abandoned the second first eye contact was made. Lunch passes by quickly, and you’re thankful. That was a bit too tense, and your male counterpart seems to be exhausted from the mental energy of ignoring something so potent. So heady.

“That nasty little Annie is going to supervise my cycling class, so I’m going to the pool today! You should come with me; you’ll never believe what she did the other day when I was struggling with my nightgown….”

Kotoe leads your four person group to the elevators, but your nana tells her she likes to walk after breakfast, so you mourn the loss of Midoriya as nonchalantly as possible. A big ego was annoying, and he didn’t need to know that you were dying to see under his pants. Honestly, even just getting to talk alone would be nice. 

“Well, Kotoe, I’ll meet you back at the pool after my nap.”

Your grandmother silently gives you a look that tells you everything you need to know about the pool situation.

Get your swimsuit!

It’s not too hot out that when you take a step the ground pierces your foot with its heat. The sun is shining just enough to cast a warm, soft glow on honeyed skin; it’s making you look too good, you feared. What if Midoriya was a nervous guy? Your ego shoots to the sky as you secure your jewelry and make your way to the pool with your nana.

Midoriya thought he might’ve had you beat, that maybe he’d get the edge in the game you two were playing where you’d feel more flushed than him. He certainly played a good hand, muscles rippling in black swim shorts highlighting his lean body. Freckles dotted his skin, and he felt embarrassed at ogling himself in the mirror.

“Kotoeee! I love your bathing suit; where’d you get the damn thing?!”

Nana runs off quickly, having debriefed you in the elevator that she intended to leave you and Midoriya “to it.” You’d vehemently denied the allegations of something like this happening, but there was a decent chance with how you and him were looking at each other that her suspicions were correct.

Your stuff is set by the chatty old ladies, and Midoriya takes the time to sidle up close to you. Squinting at him, he really does look good up close.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Do you want to swim with me?”

“What are we, five?”

He laughs lightly, shrugging and rubbing at the nape of his neck.

“Well, it’s not like there’s anything else to do! Not here, anyways,” and you feel your cheek twitch with the urge to smile.

He’s… saucy. And maybe you like it, a lot.

“If you say it like that, you can admit that no other girls wanna swim with you,” and he scoffs playfully at you before standing up, “but sure, I’ll hop in for a bit.”

The two of you make your way to the water. Midoriya gets in first, and he extends an arm to help you in like a proper gentleman.

“Are you always this kind?”

“I’m just on my best behavior,” and he grins like a shark.

Water swishes around you two, droplets hiding each other’s best features like a love potion. The grannies are still talking, and there are splashes from other patrons using the facility. Nothing can happen now, even if you want to jump his bones badly.

“I think the class starts soon, the water weights one?”

“What even is that class? What’s the point?”

Midoriya circles like you’re dancing, so you bat your eyes lashes and take a thumb to your lip. It makes him laugh, and you suddenly feel yourself dropping the act.

“No, no, I like it! And it’s, uhm, they lift weights to strengthen their bones! But it’s easier on their joints. My Obaasan also likes getting some fresh air,” he flicks his hair back, and the water rolls down his skin seamlessly, “maybe we could do something on our own.”

Raunchy daydreams smack you in the face; he could fuck you here. He could bend you over the water edge, eat your pussy and make you cream right in the pool chair just feet away! Maybe he’s sucking on your clit, pulling on your nipple, or maybe he’d rock his cock deep into you just because you begged for it!

“Yeah,” his eyes trace the soft edges of your curves, and you feel so high on feeling desired, “where could we go?”

Your question is interrupted with a loud, unfortunate, shrieky exclaim of, “Midoriya!” that shakes both you and the man in question enough to cause ripples in the water. Two heads turn towards the pair of grannies, now suited up in swimsuits that go to their knobby knees, plus bulky goggles.

“Go check for some floaties in the back room, please! I might really need them this time!”

Midoriya doesn’t even make a face but nods in understanding before turning guiltily to you, “...I guess I’ll be right back?”

This seems like a set-up. Back room? For floaties? Midoriya doesn’t seem to have picked up that this is the moment, but you have.

“Well, why don’t I just come with you?”

The grandmothers have gone back to their own personal conversation (gossiping), so you assume it’s okay. Midoriya gives a tentative look to Kotoe, before looking you back in your eyes and nodding. Ah, now he gets it.

You both are giddy as soaking wet bodies slip out of the pool easily and pad like excited puppies down to the deserted storage closet. Midoriya lets you duck in first, flip-flops clacking against the pavement as you flick on the dim lights and wait for the show to begin. Then, the green-haired boy eagerly locks the door and turns to look at you with lustful eyes.

“So!”

“You know, this is extremely typical, right?”

He grows closer as if wanting to slowly overpower you with every step. You remain firm in your pink flip-flops.

“Even if it is typical, I can’t help but feel lucky,” and he oozes attractiveness.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. How often do you get to kiss a pretty girl?”

Maybe it’s the sparkle in his eyes or how he bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“Mmph!—”

The two of you crash into each other, your hands flying to tangle in his unique tresses, and you can almost hear the “SMOOCH!” sound as the two of you have your first heated kiss; breaking the ice-cold layer of tension. The kiss was groundbreaking, earth-shattering, and your foreheads dipped and pressed together as you heaved for breaths.

Your first kiss with him.

It’s practically perfect, and it's ending could be considered admirable because it was so cliche. Someone had called out towards the storage closet, and the two of you ran out of there like the guilty criminals you were. The thrill kept you moving like a wild animal. You loved it; the two of you loved it.

That memory didn’t leave you, not when you parted ways or thought about keeping your lips as they were so you wouldn’t forget that you’d kissed him. Maybe you were too into a fling, a fleeting romance, but having someone you could call yours felt fulfilling. Whatever happened to moving on with life?

No, you’d changed your mind. Who cared about doing career things in an old folks home? You could do that any time, good dick doesn’t always come around.

Adrenaline was still thrumming in your veins as you kept going about your day as if the feeling of his soft lips on yours wasn’t being replayed every ten seconds; it was so perfectly taboo and hot. You wondered if he was thinking the same things, maybe taking a hand and palming his half-chub in his swim shorts because he just couldn’t hold back and wait anymore.

The two of you shared looks for the rest of the swim class as you leisurely tanned your golden skin while Midoriya lounged around (fetching equipment as needed.) His new “job” grew quickly on you, the ability to get an eyeful of strained muscles and bulging thighs that jogged ’round and ’round the pool like a carousel felt like a reward.

Your grandmother draws you close with a hand motion, bony fingers clasped to the ledge as you draw closer, “oh good, you heard me! Could you bring me my bag? I left it in the locker room!”

“Sure thing, I’ll only be a sec!”

Quickly, you head towards the women’s locker room and spot the flowered print pool bag. You snatch it up and make your way back, feet slowing their speed, when you see an unfamiliar face sticking out like a sore thumb.

She was pretty, blonde, with a thin neck that made you envy her allure from where you stood. Not only that, but definitely flirting with a resting Midoriya.

“Here, nana…”

“Thank you! What are you looking at—” your grandmother makes the same frowning expression as you, “oh, right. She’s getting in between you and your future husband, you know! She just waltzed on over like she owned the place, and he fell for it, hook, line, and sinker! Don’t tell Kotoe, but you ought to…”

Her rambling goes muffled and indiscernible, and you feel your hand clench at your side. You stormed over to the spot without even considering the consequences and grinned widely. She gives you a skeptical eye before batting curled lashes towards Midoriya.

“So, what were you saying about working out together?”

Nervous green eyes flick to yours, gauging your level of emotion from the deep recesses of your eyes. Midoriya can’t see anything. In fact, it’s more like you’re looking through him as he sputters his way through an excuse of being “really busy, so maybe we should wait till we make actual plans!”

He was good, and maybe it was the fact he was the first attractive boy you’d seen in the several weeks of being with your grandmother. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t been properly fucked in a minute, so you were a loose screw about to make everything fall apart.

‘I see,” and you shrug at him, “we should wait till we make actual plans too! You know, just so we can be sure.”

Then, you prissily walk off, determined to not seem shaken by the seeming turn of events being that IZUKU MIDORIYA was a man-whore, one hundred percent. He just wanted to rile you up, and two could most certainly play at that game. You’d just have to show him what he was missing out on, all because he wasn’t too sure he wanted you. You’d make him sure.

He’d kissed you for god’s sake! You fumed alone in the elevator, grumbling things no one would ever hear.

The plan had worked spectacularly. There was no way Midoriya was actually going to go for the blonde that seemed eager to be alone with him now that the swimming class was over. Sure, he’d smooth-talked her, but it was all for you. He could tell that there was something you were hiding from him in all your shy looks and glossy lips.

“Was that your girlfriend? She looked rude,” Ayaka grinned wildly, “she’s not right?”

“It doesn’t really matter what she is,” and he stands gingerly, all shy and nervous, “I-I have to go now!”

Ayaka tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and her arms push her breasts up obscenely.

“You really gotta go?”

The awkwardness is back, and it seemed that the boy could only be flirty when it came to you. Now, he was a fish out of water flopping around on the deck.

“Yup! I’ll see you later, or whatever!”

He’d finally figured it out, aside from the awkwardness of forcing jealousy within you. You were a brat! He couldn’t wait to see how this developed, the greedy part of him hoping you’d make another move because he wanted to see you again. Badly.

“...Bye!”

You didn’t leave his mind, and he wondered what the two of you could do together. Did you like ice cream? Games? Yeah, sometimes he thought with his dick but other times… Well, you were the exact type of girl he’d love to take out.

He had no idea that as part of your newly created plan… you planned to kiss Hitoshi Shinsou right in front of him.

-

Shinsou was calm, collected, and rarely ever smiled. You hadn’t been lying when you’d said that boys like Midoriya were few and far between, so you’d already recognized potential suitors (meaning you’d told your best friends, in ranked form, the cutest boys at the UA Retirement Home.)

You’d decided Shinsou was one of the cuter ones considering you didn’t see him all the time. His face was pleasant to look at whenever you saw him working his shift, and he was plopped at the desk today with no one around… it seemed like today would be the day.

You and Midoriya hadn’t spoken in two days since you last saw him potentially entertaining the advances of some blonde girl. You weren’t stupid, after the heat of the moment and going over the situation one more time, it was clear. He wanted to tease you, make you feel the fire burning inside you grow hotter and hotter.

“Hey, Shinsou!” 

It was time to get him back in a major way. You push your torso an inch or two across the desk to smile at the purple-haired boy and let your head fall to the side. It was unclear whether or not it was actually having an effect, but you trekked along.

“Morning, what are you doing here?”

He already looks closed off, and you’re hoping he doesn’t hate you by the end of this.

“I just wanted to say hi! A girl can’t just hang out by the front desk?”

“No, actually,” his finger taps a sticker on the glass barrier between you, an obnoxious sticker reading “NO LOITERING” sitting there to mock you, “there is. See?”

…

“Oh! Well, I mean, well,” you look around frantically, the heat of embarrassment crippling you to where you stood.

“Look, if you just tell me, then maybe I can–” and the two of you are yelping as you push past the swinging door that separates Shinsou from other residents, “what the hell?! What are you doing?”

It suddenly feels like a huge mistake, and if you could swallow your anxieties, maybe this would’ve gone over easier. The position you two are in now, it feels warm. Steamy. His eye bags are less prominent when he’s slouched beneath you in his desk chair. Slender legs manspreading, and you could easily settle yourself on top of him if you felt like getting it on from behind the front desk.

“I just wanted… to see what it all looks like from behind here! Very, very nice. Did your boss get you that mug?”

“You need to leave,” and he sighs, but every action is gentle as he takes your arm, “what’s making you act so weird?”

Had anyone else been watching, they would have assumed the two of you were up to pure shenanigans. Midoriya yawns, eyes sleepy from his daytime nap as he trods towards the eating hall to peruse the options.

Midoriya hoped you weren’t genuinely upset about anything. Considering your demeanor and attitude, it seemed like something you would’ve liked, would’ve wanted. Maybe he went too far; it agonized him to think about it.

“Please, Shinsou! Don’t kick me out,” you’re grappling with his limbs, and you try to stand firmly, “you can’t treat a guest like this! I’ll make a scene!”

“You caused the scene!” 

The commotion is growing louder, making the green-haired boy’s head tilt because the voices sound too familiar. His feet turn right, heading towards the hall's entrance, and it’s unmistakable that you had been the feminine voice whining. 

“I know, but I had to do something!”

“Do what?”

Midoriya barely rounds the corner when you bend over, ass sticking up in the air, and plant a firm kiss on Shinsou’s lips. He doesn’t move but lets a soft groan slip as your hands trace the tops of his shoulders.

You’re crazy, he realizes. Just from watching you kiss Shinsou, he assumes he’s probably crazy, too, because it does nothing but make his cock throb. The two of you pull away, and you’re wiping your lips with the back of your hand. He wishes he could spy on what you were saying to him, using all your best tantalizing moves to keep Shinsou in a partial state of shock; you’re taking small steps back past the swinging door and nodding reassuringly.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah. I’ll see you…?”

“Uh-huh! Bye!”

Midoriya had ducked behind a wall, but your footsteps were growing closer and closer. Then, you’re a blur past him, but he can make out your face. It’s the face of sadism, of one that grins while you walk past him because you know that he knows you have the taste of Shinsou on your tongue and that you’re the one who gave him the bulge in his sweatpants. 

He quickly grabs onto your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Yes?”

“You know what you’re doing, right? Do you really wanna play this game?”

“What game?”

This will end with him fucking the shit out of you, and you know it. Midoriya feels his heart swell with dominance, pulling you closer so your hand can cup his cock in his shorts. He manually curls your fingers around his length, small puffs of air coming out of him as you submissively run your palm over the salacious hardness under his sweatpants. 

“I like when you touch me like that! Reminds me that even though you might go and kiss other guys….”

His hand brushes against your hip, thumb dipping just under your shorts and panties to feel the forbidden skin you hid from him.

“I just know that under these panties, you’re soaking.”

You feel relief that he doesn’t try to check because you know your hole is dripping and staining your cute pair of panties.

“I…”

Midoriya shushes you, an adorable smile on display as he firmly squeezes your ass cheek. He grunts as you put more pressure on his dick before taking your hand and squeezing it.

“Don’t talk. I just want you to think, cutie,” and he gets impossibly closer.

“Do you really think you’ll win?”

You don’t think you’ll win at all, and that’s the fun in it.

Midoriya sighs, feeling your hand stroke him over the fabric before breathing out and pulling away. He kisses your cheek, pointedly avoiding your lips.

“I’ll see you later.”

You’re left as shocked as Shinsou was.

-

“Have you noticed how often the kids have been hanging out together? I knew it, Kotoe. I knew they’d hit it off,” your grandmother smirks cockily, “where are they now, anyways?”

It had been true that you and Midoriya had been spending as much time as possible together since the Shinsou incident. It’s been a day since anything had happened, but you’d already shown your hand with tight workout shorts that cupped your ass perfectly that afternoon. You’d given your soon-to-be fling an eyeful, bending over with a sway in the hips so he could see the soft, tender flesh jiggle as you sweat all over yourself.

Even just your body seemed obscene, Midoriya couldn’t stop his eyes from tracking your hand towel as it dried in between the valley of your tits (that he wished so badly he could suck on) or when you took a heaving breath while wiping the sweat off from your forehead. Midoriya felt like a pervert; images of painting you in thick ropes of cum kept him hot-blooded.

“Oops, be careful!”

Midoriya wanted to push you, though. To really test your limits as far as teasing went. He’d tried all his best tips and tricks that he knew, but he wanted more. You saw it all, the thumb brushing his lip being the first strike of many. A hand on your thigh that every so often grew so close to your cunt before pulling away and giving you a wry shrug, “I just like having something to hold!”

Things like that.

“You look really good with cream on your face,” he hummed nonchalantly over a cup of hot chocolate.

“Huh?!”

He doesn’t even have the shame to pretend that he didn’t say what he said.

“I said, if you wanted cream on your face so bad, you should’ve just asked me instead.”

He’s even cocky enough to embellish a little. By dinnertime, you can’t stop wondering what his lips would feel like as he ate you like a man starved, slurping at your folds and tonguing you deep because he wanted to give you everything plus more.

Maybe he’d be willing to go a little further! If you could find somewhere private, maybe he’d cave to your soft eyes and alluring words. While your grandmothers choose what to eat at the bar, you’re busying yourself with tugging on Midoriya’s shirt sleeve.

“So…”

“So?”

“Um, do you wanna,” you didn’t start out too strong, but then he’s leaning in a microinch more and licking his lips, “wanna… find somewhere more private?”

The two of you aren’t being very inconspicuous, and your lips are parting for ones that don’t reach yours. A light laugh is heard beside you as your eyes flutter open. You frown.

“Private? Why would we do that?”

“Midoriya. C’mon,” you give a quick look at your surroundings and hope the elderly really are deaf, “we’ve been doing this, but what about a break? You know, I could help with what’s going on with you….”

He’ll give you one thing, you’re trying really hard. You look great, and he’s noticed the infrequent squeezing of your thighs. You’re probably dripping right now, all because he touched you a little and murmured about how much he wants you. 

“Baby,” and he pecks the knuckles of your hands, “it’s just not gonna happen, yet. You can be patient, right?”

Maybe you’ll explode, turn into flames and die of spontaneous combustion. This is torturous. Blasphemous.

“...But I don’t want to wait anymore!”

Then, a firm hand holds your face in his cheeks. Anyone could see you two, but Midoriya has the gall to grab your face and squeeze just a little. You’re mush, and you’re looking at him with starry eyes as he squishes your cheeks.

“Don’t make me have to really punish you,” and while he doesn’t sound threatening, you have half a mind to take him seriously.

Your face is released, and you almost want to grind down in your seat. Adjusting yourself, you pop a tater-tot in your mouth to try and distract yourself from your need. To your utter annoyance, the boy next to you elbows you.

“Besides, you already know that when we do fuck, you'll get everything you want, right? I haven’t forgotten about that kiss, I’m going to prove to you I’m better than him!”

He eats a piece of broccoli like it’s nothing, and you have to fight to hide your grin over your predicament. Midoriya gives you one last look. He fears the feelings inside him. Maybe he likes you like that. He settles to focus on his broccoli.

-

This game the two of you had been playing was getting rough. Time seemed to fly by, and suddenly you were looking at only a couple weeks left to stay with your grandmother. In turn, this meant that after these few weeks… what you and Midoriya had would cease to exist. You tried not to think about it.

Neither of you brought it up, but aside from every sexual advance, it seemed like the elephant in the room followed you wherever you went. Midoriya had started pulling your chair out for you, started to buy you gifts, and you suspected his soft touches were his biggest tell. Midoriya didn’t seem like the type to fight feelings, and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Not because you didn’t like him, of course. You just didn’t know how to feel because you couldn’t fight these feelings if you tried.

“Do you wanna call me Izuku?”

“Huh?! Well, well, are you sure?”

“Yeah! We’re, um, we’re close, you know? So I don’t mind! I’d prefer it, coming from you,” it’s funny because the two of you are physically close too, essentially cuddling.

After familiarizing yourself with the entire facility, the two of you managed to find the ideal spots to hang out for some alone time! It was like walking a tightrope, was it going to be you who fell first when you sidled up real close to him? Or was it going to be him when he reached an arm around to comfortably hug your shoulder?

“Well, that does make sense! Okay, Izuku,” you wiggle your shoulders and say it so sweetly that he almost kisses you, “I like it! It suits you, at least when I’m saying it.”

You ham it up, stroking his cheek and murmuring his name like you’re a cheesy romance movie lead. He’s giggling as your hand brushes his sides to tickle him.

“Hey, come on! I told you something personal and now you’re going to tickle me?!”

“Of course I am! Don’t you know who I am?!”

It’s a blur, Izuku’s laughing and you’re telling him about the “tickle monster” that’d just appeared. Once coming down from the gusto of play fighting, something’s changed.

The two of you are stunned when you realize what has happened. Maybe it was Izuku’s fault for flying backwards or yours for following him diligently with wandering hands. The two of you seem to just fit, hips slotted against his own as you look down at him. You’d landed nearly perfectly in his lap, bated breath as both of you took in what it all meant.

“Oh, I know who you are.”

It’s tense.

“The tickle monster is going away, but you better be careful,” you say in a near whisper.

…It’s so tense.

“What do I have to be scared of? You’re just a brat.”

Your heart is beating, and this is too considering you’re chest to chest. Every touch, laugh, and first kiss replays in your memory like a flashback. The smell of anticipation hangs in the air, and you smile because this is finally it.

And he beats you to the chase, lips puckered as he finally kisses you with the passion of the first one after leaving you wanting for too long. He tastes like peppermint, and it’s so hot. Gasping breaths are taken; hormones at an all-time high because you can’t get enough of him now that you know he’s yours.

“Fuck,” he pants, “we can’t do it here.”

You’re still trying to mouth at his jaw, desperate to continue planting heated bursts of love across every inch of his skin. His hands come to your waist, and you’re frowning cutely as if your favorite toy was taken.

“If we’re quiet, no one’s even gonna come….”

Izuku’s nervous. He’s been waiting for so long. Hell, he has the most beautiful girl sitting pretty in his lap, eager to get naked, and yet he’s still hesitating. Your manicured nail tilts his head away from the double doors and back to your panting face.

“We don’t have to,” you say calmly, but you suddenly feel so vulnerable.

Suddenly Izuku realizes you’re about to slip from his grasp like melted butter. It all makes sense. 

“No. I’ll fuck you here! We just…need to be quiet, okay?”

“Okay!”

Both mouths go back to sliding against each other, and your teeth tug his lip just so see the redness bloom under the thin skin. All you can hear are the slick sounds of the two of you making out, and your hips start tilting into Izuku’s bulge before you can try to contain yourself.

“We should…” he seems to contemplate your position, “hm. Get on your back, baby.”

Honestly, the couch isn’t the greatest. The narrowness makes you nervous, but the strong arm that nearly lifts you onto your back gives you starry eyes; you can’t complain. One of Izuku’s legs supports him from the floor and for some reason, it all feels so intimate. The way you offer a shy smile and how he pecks your nose so sweetly you almost don’t hear it.

He holds himself up above you, and you can actually see his freckles up close now. He has so many, and each one is wonderful.

Then, his head dives down into the curve of your neck with the swiftness of a cheetah. His teeth graze your pulse point, your back arching and breath hitching as he suckles until a tender purple bruise appears.

“Izuku!”

His cock throbs at how you moan his name.

“Shh! I don’t want to have to keep you quiet, right? Ah…”

His hips grind into yours easily with a fervor that only comes from days of teasing and sexual repression. 

“Want you to take off my shirt, ‘zuku,” you mumble weakly, arms already winding around his neck for support as he dry humps you like a fuckdoll.

“Mhm, I will, I will! Just wanna feel you for a second; you’re so fucking warm.”

You’re soaking through your panties. He’s found a good angle, the two of you whimpering together as he mimics fucking you deep and slow. If he was inside you, you’re sure he’d be balls deep with your legs over his shoulders.

But there was no time, and you’re bringing him back to your lips with a twist. If you didn’t reign him in, you were sure the two of you would cum in your pants, and that wasn’t enough. His hand is brought to your chest, squeezing over the fabric so you can squeal in between his tongue that licks into your mouth.

“Play with my tits, only wanna feel you on me,” you can’t even stop talking when his hand travels under your soft cardigan to tug the cups of your bra down, “want you to be the only one that touches me like this.”

He’s transfixed, rough palm skirting over your nipple in a way that makes you shudder.

“You’re so sensitive…”

Your leg is pushed to the floor as Midoriya flips your skirt up.

“I knew it. You’re soaking from me. You’re telling me all these things, but,” and your chest is spilling out from your bra cups as he fully exposes you, “I knew I was yours the minute I saw you.”

If you weren’t in the process of tugging the boy’s mouth closer to your tit, you might’ve picked up on the near-love confession he’d murmured into the fat of your breasts. It’s so heady, so exhilarating knowing someone could walk in on your sticky thighs spread while Izuku gropes your chest.

“Mmph, Izuku! I need more.”

“I know, and we need to hurry this along too…”

It’s a regret he’s forced to pull away from your upper half. Markings dot areas all over your chest and he shudders with empathetic pleasure, knowing you’ll be walking around with skin he defiled is so deeply arousing. You’ll walk around after he stretches you with his pulsing cock, dragging you back onto him like you were made for it. No one would know a thing, and it makes Midoriya tug his belt off with a sense of urgency.

You watch carefully as his thick fingers make quick work on his belt. You can’t help yourself from letting a wandering hand stroke your soaked pussy, adding the slightest amount of pressure on your clit with slow, deliberate circles. His eyes catch yours and then your trembling hand. You feel caught, hand pausing while you turn cherry red.

“No, no. Why’d you stop? Keep going.”

He unbuttons his jeans, but his hands go to palm himself instead of sliding the zipper down like you want.

“Izuku?”

“Get yourself all wet for me, pretty. I wanna see how you touch yourself.”

It’s maybe one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard, and it’s even more attractive when a strong hand drags your hand down to your swollen cunt.

“Are you that bad at being good? You heard me.”

His voice has the same bite it always does. Friendly but in no doubt in charge. Your body temperature rises, and it’s almost embarrassing to get yourself off knowing he’s watching you like a hawk.

He even laughs when your hips jolt, “you can rub harder than that.”

“Why don’t you try?!”

The words don’t come out half as strong as you’d like. Rather, you sound pathetic because his groans are spurring your fingers to pull your panties to the side and actually touch yourself for real. The tips of your fingers are slick, and lewd sounds are echoing as you pump a finger into your gummy walls.

“I’m sure you’re just as good. I mean, you had every day to practice! Shit,” he sighs and dips a hand under his jeans, “wish I had time to use my mouth on you. I bet you taste so good, too.”

You spread your lips to expose your dripping hole, clenching around nothing and leaving a syrupy trail of wetness on your fingers. Izuku trembles, hand gripping the base of his cock as you nearly weep for him.

“I want you to fill me, Izuku. My fingers aren’t enough; I need you here,” and you lay a hand on your lower stomach, “wanna feel you here.”

After begging so cutely and winding yourself up so much that you’re nearly grinding onto the couch cushion, you hope it works. You even move to cup your breast for good measure.

“Don’t you wanna see how good I’d squeeze you?”

It hangs in the air for a moment before Midoriya nods hastily.

“Okay. Yes, okay!”

He digs through his wallet, pulling out a foil square and pushing his boxers down to alleviate the pressure bearing down at him. Sharp teeth rip the foil apart while you take mental notes on the boy before you.

It’s certainly not a disappointment! The mushroom head leaks precum like a fountain. Beading at the slit and eventually bubbling over, it’s so enticing that you’re willing to take him into your mouth just for one second.

Instead, you grab the condom with your hand, and both of you work together to roll it on. He hisses at the contact of your hand gripping his so you can’t help but give a tug just to hear him gasp.

“You’ll make me cum if you do that! Don’t,” he chuckles, swatting your hand away.

“Are you even gonna last more than a minute?”

“Will you?”

The two of you giggle as you maneuver yourself, spreading slick thighs and Izuku splaying your lower half against his. He hisses when his cock slides through your dripping folds, “I’m gonna love this pussy.”

“C’mon,” you whine impatiently, “you’re being unfair–”

He’d had enough of your needy voice, and Izuku could feel all his self-control melt away like snow. First, he pushes the tip in just to keep you quiet (and it works, just as he imagined.) 

“Ngh! Ah, wait! Wait, wait…” you’re suddenly about to topple off the edge of pure pleasure if not for Izuku holding your hand in his.

“I-I can’t! Baby, I need to be inside you. You can take it, right?”

He’s pushing his thick dick further in you, and your breath skips in your throat because he’s stretching you so good and making such sinful noises.

“There ‘ya go! There… fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Izuku has to force himself to think of other things, to not think of your drooling pussy taking him in like he belonged there. To not think of how you kept wiggling for more; you couldn’t get enough of feeling him hit that spongy spot that felt so good inside you. He hasn’t even started thrusting yet, just huffing expletives in your ear as he forces himself to not shoot his load too early.

You already look fucked out, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky for you. You’re looking at him like you love him, and he snaps his hips forward so hard you jerk upwards against the cushions. Soft hands fly to cover your mouth, and you look so pathetic trying to keep quiet as he carves a space inside you for him and only him.

  Quiet little “ah, ah, ah!” come out of you in bursts, utterly helpless to the fact that you must stay silent while Izuku pounds you into the worn couch of your grandmother’s retirement home. It’s debauched. It’s so fucking hot.

“I’ve wanted you since the beginning, hah. I was waiting for the right time,” he rambles, but his gaze is stuck on the way he slides way deep into you just to feel his heaviness drag against your folds till it’s just the tip. Again and again, and he’s nearly salivating with the froth you cream on his base, “and you look so pretty and I wanna do more, I–”

You realize he needs to shut up while trying to regain your own bearings. You’re still being vigorously fucked, and you can hardly get a word in with how he punches his cock just deep enough the graze your womb.

It makes you cry out because it hurts so fucking good, and Midoriya is quick shush you like a baby.

“Izu–oh, fuck! Izuku! Izu,” your hand cups his cheek to bring his lips against yours, effectively keeping him quiet.

The natural body weight of Izuku’s body excites your nerves so much that you feel on fire.

“‘M not gonna last long,” he gives a stuttering whisper and sneaks a hand between your bodies, balls slapping lewdly against your ass as he drills into you, “wanna get you off though, hm? Gotta make my pretty girl cum, right?”

He has no idea if he’s just muttering bullshit at this point, but it seems to work considering your increase in volume (something he can’t be bothered to fix.) Izuku wipes his hand on his shirt and rubs slow, small circles on your clit. It’s so methodical. It’s so targeted that you clench harder and harder.

“‘M gonna cum–gonna cream all over you,” your folds flutter so enticingly around him.

“You’re such a good girl, ngh! Cum around my cock; you deserve it..!”

You cum with a wail, no doubt soaking Izuku as he hunkers down onto you and grinds messily into you.

“W-Wish I could fill you up!! You’re so–so perfect.”

“Cum with me, ‘zuku,” you whisper as you comb your fingers through the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead.

Izuku muffles his groan into the crook of your neck, spilling his load in the rubber and sighing as the euphoria washes over him. The two of you take a moment to catch your breath, and you cringe at how the back of your shirt is stuck with sweat from your unexpected tryst. The boy on top of you can barely hold himself up, shaky hands tugging the condom off and tucking himself back into his jeans.

“Oh no!”

There’s a clear wet spot on his jeans, no doubt from barely undressing and thus spilling remnants of your cum together. Part of you wishes you could lick it off, and you have to shut your legs to keep your oversensitive clit from throbbing.

“Oh! That’s… okay. Um, is there a trash can near?...”

It makes you want to laugh at how he looks so boyish now in the post-coital glow. Adjusting your panties, after much deliberation of taking them off since they were soaked, you sit back and rest a hand on Izuku’s knee.

“I think there’s one right outside the main exit,” and then you’re leaning forward to kiss his nose, “...do you wanna go on a date?”

“You can’t say that while I’m still holding the condom that I just fucked you with!”

The two of you laugh before he softly kisses your shiny lips, “but okay.”

By next summer, your grandmothers are wondering how many kids the two of you will have.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Weiss: We need to get you something casual to wear. Even I don't just have dresses. I have skirts, and jeans and yoga pants.

Jaune: What's wrong with this shirt? It's cotton. It's comfortable.

Weiss: You don't have any other shoes just those heavy boots.

Jaune: What's wrong with my boots? They're comfortable and I know if I have to I can crush somebody's skull with them.

Weiss: Besides the fact they are on my new coffee table? Get some slippers, sandals, or tennis shoes and I'll let the shirt and pants go.

Jaune: I have jeans...

Weiss: One pair? I've seen your closet. Face it. You've gone all hunter with no relaxation.

Jaune: I sleep shirtless in gym shorts. Are you complaining about that? It's not typically something a loving wife tells their husband. 'Put on more clothes.'

Weiss: You also only have one pair of gym shorts. You're so military it would make a Spartan cringe. It's not like you don't have the money for clothes.

Jaune: I've been busy.

Weiss: But now you're not.

Ruby: Ooh! We should dress him up!

Jaune: What am I? A doll?

Weiss: It's settled then.

Jaune: Settled how? Since when are we putting things to a vote. That's not allowed. Everyone has to be onboard.

Ruby: Get democratized.

Weiss: What happened to your onesie? At least you had that. At least it existed even if I am glad you just sleep in gym shorts.

Ruby: Your chest is nice to sleep on. How is it soft and hard at the same time? But we aren't hoofing it around anima anymore and you're not clawing your way back to Vale. Let us dress you up.

Jaune: Again like a doll?

Ruby: Yeah. But you're our doll. Please? For me?

Jaune: *makes the mistake of looking into her eyes, gets up with a sigh*

Weiss: We don't mean right this minute. Good gods.

Jaune: *sits back down* You know where to find me.

Weiss: You have to teach me how to do that Ruby.

Jaune: You both do that to me. You looked at me, folded your arms, and told me to get a psychiatrist and I did.

Weiss: True. But there’s something special about the way Ruby says ‘please? For me?’ Isn’t there? She does it to me too. She’s like ‘I know you like this color of paint for the bedroom but I like this one. Won’t you agree to it? For me?

Ruby: *has this look of 'who? Me? I'm not familiar*

Jaune: As far as I’m concerned you both cheat hard and ruthlessly. How often do you walk around singing in the kitchen while you’re making coffee? You cheat. You both do. You both do it as much as you can get away with and that’s quite a lot. And what am I supposed to do? I’ve got nothing. I have neither defense or offense.

Weiss: How is doing things you love cheating? I happen to sing while I’m doing chores. That’s for me. If you happen to like it, then that is on you. I am talking about how Ruby actively uses her charms to get us both to do what she wants.

Jaune: And I’m just saying you’re not innocent. As soon as you found out it turns me on when you sing you started singing at me all the time.

Weiss: Okay. I did do that.

Jaune: Bangarang. And everyone in this house knows that Ruby just looks up at you with those big silver eyes and asks nicely and gets her wishes granted. Everyone knows that. Especially Ruby. She knows we can’t help ourselves and she knows that we know that she knows. But there’s nothing to be done. What am I going to do to get what I want?

Weiss: You don’t want anything though. You don’t really care what color the annex office gets painted. You hardly care what you eat for dinner. You could probably eat the same thing every day without complaint.

Jaune: That’s exactly what I used to do at Beacon until you moved in with me. I ate the same thing every single day. And you know what? I liked it.

Weiss: You’re schizophrenic. You have to stop with these mentally unwell behaviors. That’s a part of fighting back against your illness. It’s not enough to just take the meds.

Ruby: Yeah, that’s a sign of mental unwellness… You should eat different things…

Jaune: Exactly how long term am I supposed to be thinking here?

Weiss: *Smacks his chest gently with the back of her hand*

Ruby: *much less flirtatiously and aggressively hits the inside of his thigh*

Jaune: And you both abuse me.

Weiss: Oh shut up.

Ruby: Big baby.

[heartfullofleeches]

A People Eater's Worse Nightmare

Yandere Parasite/Shapeshifter + G.N Reader blurb

Summary: They love you. What the fuck's wrong with them.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism

A nice big house. Large group of friends.

Yeah- this life was great.

Framed pictures of loved ones on the wall, freezer stocked full of meat. Beer cans on the coffee table and blood stains in the carpet. Such accomities made this place fitting to be their perfect home.

Shame they couldn't stick around.

[Hey, Dude! Last night was killer. You on for Sunday?]

The homeowner shoots a dismissive reply, sinking deeper into the revels of their catch present in the murky waters they reside. It was far too easy this time. A homebody with loose ties to numerous people turned the life of the party and friend group after a trip out of town. "Taking a new approach on life." And all that other horseshit that left people none the wiser to the horrors committed behind locked doors.

It was paradise, but too much of a good thing was bad for anyone's health. Getting to caught up in prey's daily life could make one sloppy. How people managed to miss those tiny spots of macroon in the rug or the smell that lingered was beyond them, but maybe that's just how primitive those claimed to be the top of the chain were. They needed to move ship, and fast.

A new message pops up on the screen, from a number simply marked with a heart.

[I had a really nice time with you last night. I hope we can meet up again soon.]

There it was. The other issue with being human. With how many lives they have under their belt, they've done this song and dance many times before. They've been married and divorced. Slept with numerous people in one night, and had committed friend with benefits deals. They could've made excuses for it all, but there was a side of them that longed for connect. An amalgamation of the feelings the one before them held and their own urges. There was many partners before this one and there would be plenty after.

So why can't they hit send?

[Hey, Y/n. Some stuff came up with my folks so I'll be out of town for a while. I'll hit you up when I get back.

A passage excuse. One that could potentially throw off their temporary mate if they were the type to overthink. For some reason, that got under their skin. Freaky. Maybe it's because they never managed to get them in the sack - or call them by their real name.

It's cool - By morning those feelings will be gone and they'll move onto the next. Just one more night and the homeowner would go back from social outcast turned devil worshipper - to a beast a little closer to home.

As their head sinks under the water, the homeowner just can't get that smile out of their head.

-

The parasite groans as it pull itself out of the bathtub. Hangovers were a bitch no matter what breed you were. It drags its heavy body off the floor and picks up the homeowner's phone. There's a missed message on screen. Their body suddenly feels lighter

[Hi. I saw you read my message, and I'm not trying to push things, but I wanted to invite you to breakfast if you were free.]

[Sure thing, Sweetheart. Just send me the locale]

The parasite hums to itself and it walks in front of the mirror, thinking about what to wear for its date with its partner. They open the cabinet to grab that perfume you said was nice on your second date-

What. What the fuck?

Ink slams the door shut; whiplash cracking the mirror. They stare at the exposed muscle structure of their skin, narrow eyes large as tennis balls. They - were themselves again, but they still as they did masquerading as that whiny little bitch. Their heart smiled in tune seeing that message, and their guts bubbled in anticipation for being beside the one to make them feel this way. They feel sick.

"What did you do to me. What did you do-"

Ink scrolls through the texts you've sent and photos you've taken together. You had to've done something. Poisoned them with some fucked up chemical. Snuck a part of yourself in their food to make them crave you so god damn bad.

Their search leaves them with nothing but a swollen heart and rage filled mind. They punch the mirror. Angry at the world, they still want nothing more than to see your disgustingly pretty face again.

"Fuck."

[fairyniceyeah]

💎 I love my team, I love my crew (Part 1/7)

Title from Super (SEVENTEEN)

Summary: While filming on a small sailing boat a few SVT members start feeling sick - the very contagious norovirus is the most likely reason.

CW: emeto, diarrhea in the context of illness

Sickies: Woozi/Jihoon + Joshua + Minghao + S.Coups/Seungcheol

Caretakers: Wonwoo + Seungkwan + Vernon

💎🐈‍⬛

“Wonwoo-hyung”, a voice called behind the rapper. Wonwoo stopped in his tracks and turned around. 

It had been Seungkwan calling after him, entering the ship’s hallway from the cabin he shared with Woozi, Minghao and Dino. For the next Going Seventeen Episodes they had decided to do a three part sailing experience. Well, it was less sailing and more fun and water-based games in the middle of the open sea. As far as Wonwoo knew, Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Dino were actually swimming at that very moment and Jun and Hoshi had said something about a table tennis match. He himself would be happy to just sit on a recliner and read a book. It was where he actually had been headed before Seungkwan had called him back.

Facing the young vocalist Wonwoo couldn’t help but notice the way Seungkwan was biting his lip in worry and was anxiously playing with the hem of his shirt. He had his legs crossed and leaned against the hall, which struck Wonwoo as very odd.

“What’s wrong, Kwan-ah?”, Wonwoo asked, immediately on alert, striding towards his dongsaeng in three big steps, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine, hyung. Have you seen the hyungs?”, Seungkwan asked, looking down at his flip-flops.

“Uhm, well, I think Cheol-hyung and Hannie-hyung are swimming. I haven’t seen Shua-hyung in some time now”, Wonwoo replied kindly, “is there anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, what the hell”, Seengkwan mumbled, then said louder, “it’s Woozi-hyung. He locked himself in the bathroom. I think he is seasick again.”

That at least explained on two levels why Seungkwan was standing this weirdly and was so fidgety. Wonwoo already felt worried for Jihoon - now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen the vocalist since breakfast and it was after lunch. It wasn’t unusual for some members to skip meals, especially with the heat, but if he truly wasn’t well…

“Why don’t you go use the bathroom in my room?”, Wonwoo suggested, “I’ll go check on Jihoonie.”

“Alright, thanks”, Seungkwan said and hurried towards the room Wonwoo shared with Joshua, Minghao and Seokmin.

With a sigh Wonwoo entered the room Seungkwan had come from. Nobody was inside but he saw the occupied symbol on the bathroom door. He passed the two bunk beds, noticing how Jihoon’s bed sheets were pushed into a ball at the foot of the bed, half-way to falling off. It seemed like the bed’s occupant had been in a rush to leave.

Wonwoo walked over to the bathroom door and rapped against it. He didn’t hear anything from inside and was about to knock again when he received his reply: “Seungkwan, I told you to go away.”

“It’s Wonwoo”, Wonwoo stated, “Kwan-ah is worried about you. Frankly, so am I. Is everything alright?”

Instead of answering, Jihoon opened the door’s lock. Before the producer could decide differently again, Wonwoo pushed the door open, careful as not to accidentally hit Jihoon. The bathrooms on the ship were tiny, but Jihoon had managed to curl himself into such a small ball that Wonwoo had no trouble opening the door. 

While he had expected it, Wonwoo was still taken aback by how awful Jihoon looked. The producer was slumped over the toilet bowl, one arm resting on it and cushioning his head. His other arm was wrapped around his stomach. Long strands of his blond hair were falling into his white face. He looked like he had gone through the wringer.

Jihoon turned around to look at Wonwoo and croaked: “Welcome to the party. The motion-sickness medicine does an awful job though.”

“I’d rather not be invited”, Wonwoo replied, happy that Jihoon seemed at least still able to make jokes. “Did you take other meds than unusual? Normally you feel okay when you take them, don’t you?”

Careful not to step on Jihoon or injure himself on a shelf or the door, Wonwoo sat down next to his younger chingu. Jihoon just shrugged and laid his head back down on his arm. It had been some time since he had been so awfully seasick.

“Have you thrown up?”, Wonwoo asked, daring to put a hand on Jihoon’s back. He supposed that if Jihoon hadn’t wanted comfort he wouldn’t have opened the door for him in the first place. And indeed, Jihoon even leaned a bit into the touch.

“Just, uhm, the sheets, only a mouthful, really”, Jihoon stuttered, flushing bright red, “I woke up feeling so nauseous and well, I uh, threw up a bit. Ever since …” He stopped and swallowed harshly. Speaking seemed to make him feel more sick. “... I’ve been in here. I’m so nauseous, Wonwoo.”

“I’m sorry you’re having such a bad time. What can I do for you?” Wonwoo rubbed his hand up and down Jihoon’s back, hoping it would comfort him even more than the simple hand on his back.

“Can you make it go away?”, Jihoon asked, an exasperated undertone to his light words.

“No, sorry. All out of magic potions”, Wonwoo joked, “I can go ask the staff for more or others meds if you want?”

“I … uh, could you just stay here?”, Jihoon questioned quietly. He seemed embarrassed by the question, despite it being a very legit request in Wonwoo’s opinion. Not wanting to make the producer feel more uncomfortable, the rapper quickly reassured: “Don’t worry, I’ll stay. Would it be okay if I texted staff for meds still?”

Jihoon nodded weakly. “Don’t know if I can take them though. I’m starting to feel really sick again.”

“That’s okay. I got you”, Wonwoo promised and finished up his text message to a manager. “Do you want me to braid your hair out of your face? You might be more comfortable that way?”

“If you would?”, Jihoon whispered. 

Wonwoo just reached over to gather the long, sweaty hair and started to braid.

💎🍊

Seungkwan rushed into Wonwoo’s cabin only to realize that the blinds were drawn and that Joshua was asleep on one bed. As quietly as his bursting bladder allowed, he rushed into the bathroom to relieve himself. 

He exited the bathroom just in time to get scared senseless when the door to the cabin was flung open, admitting Mingyu and Seokmin who were seemingly lightly arguing over something. Seungkwan frantically tried to calm his racing heart and shush them, hoping that by some miracle Joshua was not awoken by the abrupt entrance.

“Kwan-ah, what are you doing in here?”, Seokmin chirped, confused. 

Seungkwan shushed them again, waving his arms into Joshua’s direction, but it was too late. Their hyung opened his eyes, blinking up at them and frowning. 

“Wha’s go’n on?”, he slurred, clearly still half-asleep.

“Great, now you woke Shua-hyung”, Mingyu exclaimed, exasperated. 

“It’s not only my fault. You’re just annoyed that you lost at table tennis”, Seokmin countered.

“Well, you’re a terrible referee”, Mingyu said.

“Maybe you wanna take this bickering outside?”, Seungkwan suggested, still holding his hands to point at Joshua, who was now slowly sitting up.

“Alright, fine”, Mingyu and Seokmin agreed. The last thing Seungkwan heard before they shut the door again was Seokmin mumbling: “It’s not my fault that you were alone after…”

“Sorry, Shua-hyung”, Seungkwan apologized, dropping his arms and walking over to sit next to the older vocalist on the bed. 

“It’s fine”, Joshua mumbled and leaned his head on Seungkwan’s shoulder. “I probably should get up. I didn’t even mean to fall asleep - I just wanted to lay down a bit. My head hurts.”

Internally Seungkwan groaned. It was promising to be a really bad day if Joshua’s headache turned into a migraine, Seokmin and Mingyu kept bickering and Woozi was seasick. Seungkwan just hoped that Wonwoo got further than him with the stubborn producer who firmly believed that anybody younger than him was a baby and not to be involved in his issues.

“Do you want some painkillers?”, Seungkwan asked.

“Please. They are in my bag”, Joshua replied, nodding his head into the direction of the shelf at the headend of his bed and immediately wincing. “Actually, I think I will go back to sleep after I’ve taken them after all. I really don’t feel good.”

Seungkwan nodded and quickly managed to obtain the mild painkillers that Joshua took when a migraine was on its way. Joshua quickly swallowed them with a sip of water and sunk under his blankets. 

💎🐢

Vernon watched the table tennis match with interest. He himself had not wanted to play, enjoying the freetime while listening to music with one headphone on his ear, the other off to know how the game went. Mingyu and Minghao were playing against Hoshi and Jun with Seokmin as the referee. None of them had any real talent, Minghao the best of them but only due to his amazing reflexes. It was fun.

Below them in the water, Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Dino were swimming and snorkeling in the open sea together with a few staff members. Vernon didn’t know why anybody would willingly do that but he hoped they had more fun than Mingyu who was slowly getting annoyed over the table tennis game.

“Hao, I thought you were supposed to be good”, Mingyu groaned as Minghao missed another ball, causing cheering by Jun and Hoshi.

Minghao muttered a reply that Vernon didn’t quite catch, then pushed himself away from the table and left. Hoshi, Jun and Seokmin seemed as confused as Vernon felt. 

“He said it’s too hot to play”, Mingyu said, also a bit stunned, “uh, do we just go on?”

“Jo, Vernon, you wanna join instead?”, Seokmin yelled as if Vernon was on the other side of the boat, not just a few meters away. 

“Nah”, Vernon replied, shaking his head and pulling off his headphones. He had a bad feeling about Minghao - the older would never leave in the middle of a game. Despite his regular meditations he was competitive. “I’m going to get myself something to drink. Have fun!”

The staff had stocked the living room below deck with a tiny bar - a few different sports drinks and some snacks to choose from. Vernon grabbed a Sprite and took a few sips before heading further inside in search of the missing Chinese member. He wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong, it wasn’t like Minghao to be sulky, especially since Mingyu’s words had been just in good fun and he was easy to read. 

The young rapper didn’t even have to go check the cabin he knew Minghao shared with Woozi, Dino and Seungkwan. When he left the living room he nearly collided with Minghao exiting the bathroom across the hall. 

For a second Vernon was confused - if Minghao had just needed to go to the bathroom they could have stopped the game for him. They may have made a bit of fun of him yet ultimately some stuff was more important than games. But then he noticed the way Minghao had his arms wrapped around his stomach and was doubled over. His complexion was ashen gray and he was covered in sweat.

“Hao-hyung?”, Vernon asked and reached out to the unsteady older member. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“Nonie?”, Minghao asked and lifted his head. His eyes were a bit glazy and it was a bad sign that he only seemed to have noticed Vernon when he spoke. Normally Minghao was so aware of his surroundings. “I … uh… I don’t feel well.”

For a second Vernon contemplated getting Jun or any other of the hyungs, he himself not often in the role of the caretaker of a sick member but Minghao didn’t look good and Vernon didn’t feel right to leave him alone at the moment.

“Let’s sit down, okay?”, he suggested instead, hoping it was the right thing. Minghao looked really bad and so shaky. 

The older nodded and let Vernon guide him to a chair in the living room. He sank down with a wince, still holding his stomach tightly. 

“Can you try to drink something?”, Vernon asked. Maybe Minghao was just a bit sunburned, a bit overheated, and a cold, sugary drink would cure it all. The rapper held out his own bottle of Sprite, feeling a lot out of his depth just standing there watching the other look so unwell.

“I don’t really want to”, Minghao mumbled, “my stomach …”

“Have you thrown up?”, Vernon asked panically. Uh oh, this was not going as he had wanted. Maybe he should have gotten a hyung after all. He really didn’t like vomit.

But Minghao shook his head, flushing and stammered out: “I … I was feeling really hot and my stomach was feeling really upset. I, uh …” 

The last part was muttered and spoken so fast that Vernon wasn’t able to catch it. “Come again?”

“I had diarrhea”, Minghao mumbled, barely louder than before but not as fast. 

Vernon tried to school the grimace creeping up on his face into a neutral expression. There was no reason to make Minghao feel more humiliated than he already was. At least he wasn’t throwing up.

 “Do you feel better now?”, he decided to ask instead. 

“Barely”, the dancer replied, curling into himself more again, “my stomach is still cramping badly. Actually, I think, I need to …” Minghao’s eyes went wide and he pushed past Vernon to hobble to the bathroom again.

Fuck.

💎😇

“I think I’m going to go back to the boat”, Seungcheol said through chattering teeth, “it’s so cold.”

“What are you talking about, hyung? It’s so hot”, Dino exclaimed, swimming up to where Seungcheol was holding onto a unicorn floatie and Jeonghan was floating on his back. The youngest had been happy to swim around the sea, pulling his eldest hyungs with him. Since it was a calm day there were barely any waves in their way and the maknae had been fascinated by the coral reef they had been able to see below them. The ship was anchored in a shallow area in the middle of the sea that day. So they had taken the opportunity to swim in the open sea when offered by the staff. It was fun but also exhausting.

Jeonghan moved from his position on his back to just paddle lazily by the other two. He had to agree with Dino, it truly was warm even in the water. But then again Seungcheol had always easily felt cold. And again, it was exhausting.

“I’m going to join you”, Jeonghan said smoothly and pushed the floatie closer to the ladder at the side of the boat that would take them back up to the deck. “I’m beat.”

“Don’t leave me here”, Dino pouted and quickly followed his hyungs. 

Seungcheol couldn’t seem to get out of the water fast enough. He moved the floatie to a staff member and started climbing up the ladder at a quick pace. It was lucky that a slight breeze of wind had pushed the floatie more to Jeonghan than to the staff member. Instead of climbing directly behind Seungcheol, Jeonghan was a bit away, trying to catch the floatie, when the leader lost his grip on the metal bars and fell back into the water with a splash and a surprised yell that abruptly stopped.

“Cheollie?”, Jeonghan called, feeling adrenaline course through his veins. It was useless, really, since the leader was still submerged when he spoke. Luckily, in the few strong strokes, exhaustion forgotten, Jeonghan needed to get to him, Seungcheol managed to resurface. 

He was coughing badly and clutched at Jeonghan tightly to keep afloat. Dino had swam over too, concerned as well, and together they held Seungcheol up until he managed to stop coughing and spitting out salt water. 

“Are you alright?”, Jeonghan asked, “what happened? Did you slip?”

“Lost my grip”, the rapper replied a bit breathlessly. “Can we go up? I’m really cold. I just wanna get warm.”

They managed to climb up the ladder without any incidents this time. Seungcheol was trembling, from shock or cold or both, but Jeonghan stayed directly behind him. Once on deck, Seungcheol collapsed backwards onto the warm wood, sighing in relief. 

“Are you feeling alright, Seungcheol?”, the main manager, who had likely seen the incident happen from above, asked and came over carrying three towels. 

Jeonghan was surprised by his best friend’s honesty as he answered: “I’ve been better. I’m so cold and my chest hurts from coughing. My stomach feels a bit upset too, I think I swallowed a bit too much of the salt water.”

“Take it easy for the rest of the day and let us know if …”, the manager said but trailed off as a loud voice called: “Hyungs? Hannie-hyung?”

The voice was followed by Vernon’s body as he slid around a corner to reach them. “Oh, I’m glad you’re out of the water”, he said, “Minghao-hyung isn’t feeling well.”

“What’s wrong exactly?”, Seungcheol asked immediately and Jeonghan forgot about Seungcheol to focus on the gasping Vernon. He must have run all across the boat to reach them and he looked frazzled in a way that seemed quite worrisome. What the hell had happened while they were in the water?

“Well, he, uh, he said he had diarrhea earlier and now he locked himself in the bathroom but it sounded like he was throwing up too”, Vernon replied with a frown. Before they had a chance to react the manager’s phone beeped and he read the message that had plopped up.

“Uh oh”, the manager exclaimed and stared at his phone. “Damn. Wonwoo-yah just texted me, asking for meds because Jihoonie is really seasick and threw up.”

“This isn’t good”, Dino said what they all thought. Jeonghan felt a bit of panic start up - he had made sure to get himself and Jihoon the seasickness medication and he himself felt fine. If Minghao was sick too then it was much more likely that Jihoon wasn’t seasick but sick sick. And if two members were sick on this tiny boat… he really hoped it was just food poisoning but he knew they had all eaten the same food and then everybody would be ill by now. A gastrointestinal sickness was much more likely. 

Jeonghan quickly explained his train of thought out loud and the others nodded in agreement, looking as worried as Jeonghan felt.

“What do we do?”, Vernon asked. Jeonghan met the eyes of Seungcheol and the manager for a moment, before nodding.

“I’ll go look for Jun and go check on Minghao with him”, Jeonghan decided, “manager-hyung and Cheollie will go check on Jihoon-ah. Dino-yah, Vernonie, please don’t worry too much. Find the others but only tell Joshua at first, okay? We don’t need worry and panic now.”

ILMTILMC Part II

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[hearts-hunger]

big squeeze || josh kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist

Summary: When you need a little extra love, Josh knows just the thing to help.

Pairings: Josh x Reader, Danny x Reader (platonic) | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 1k | Warnings: mentions of family drama

A/N: Hi! Here's a little fluff for your evening! I hope you like it! ♡

“Oh, for the love.”

You rolled your eyes at the most recent text and turned your phone off, putting the argument out of sight but unfortunately not out of mind. You looked over at Josh and saw him studying your face with a bemused and mildly worried gaze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. He offered a smile. “Sam’s sending you memes again?”

You wished you could have coaxed out a laugh, but you couldn’t manage it. 

“Yeah, I wish.” You set your phone on the side table and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back further into the uncomfortable green room couch.

“Family shit,” you said after a moment, knowing Josh was hoping for an explanation. “It’s stupid. My family’s exhausting sometimes.”

His expression softened. “I’m sorry, baby. Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. “No, thanks.” You glanced over and saw the notebook he had open on his lap, the pages covered in lyrics written in his messy scrawl, some of them crossed out, some of them with charming little doodles beside them.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you said softly.

A frown tugged at his features. “Why not?”

You shrugged, embarrassed by the drama you still seemed to get roped up in with your family, wishing you could forget about it altogether and be fully present for your boys. They were doing a radio show in a little while, and they’d invited you and Sparrow to hang out at the studio. Sparrow and the rest of the guys were having a grand old time exploring the studio and raiding the snack bar; you’d gone off on your own to fight with your family over text, and Josh had come to share your couch keep you company even before he’d known what was wrong.

He closed his notebook. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

You ran a hand over your face. “I want to forget about it,” you said truthfully. “And I don’t want to bother you with stuff like this, especially when you’re working.”

“You’re never a bother, baby,” he reminded you gently. “You know that.”

All of a sudden, you felt like crying. “Thank you, Josh.”

“Aw, sweetheart.” He took your hand. “What can I do? I want to help.”

You breathed a mirthless laugh, not really surprised to feel a couple tears fall. “You can fix all my family’s trauma.”

His smile was wry and impossibly tender as he brushed his fingers over your cheek to dry your tears. 

“Something within my power to do, preferably,” he teased gently. “But I’ll certainly try if you want me to.”

You sighed and leaned into his touch. “I don’t know. I feel all... twisted up. Nervous.”

He gave a thoughtful hum. “I think I know something that can help.” He stood. “Are you okay with being touched?”

You nodded, a little bemused as you looked up at him. “Where are you going?”

He smiled. “To get something that’ll help.” He kissed your forehead. “Be right back.”

You watched him go, wondering what on earth he was going to get, wondering why he’d asked if you were okay with being touched only to leave right after. You resisted the urge to pick up your phone when it buzzed again, trying not to get dragged back into the tennis match of stupid texts.

A minute later, Josh came back into the room with Danny right behind him.

“Ta-da!” Josh said, proudly presenting his brother. “Instant serotonin.”

Danny looked you over with a bit of worry as you stood. “Josh said you needed a hug.”

Your heart wobbled. Your gentle giant Danny was famous for his bear hugs, and he was always generous with them when one of his friends needed a little extra love.

“I figured a hug would feel good,” Josh explained. “But I’m a small man, you know this. My hugs aren’t crushing with love. Danny can give you the whole weighted blanket effect.”

Your laugh was watery and tight with emotion. “Yeah, I mean, if...” You looked up at Danny, a little shy. “If you want to.”

He gave you a warm smile. “Come here, trouble.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and instantly felt his arms go around you with a broad, safe, secure affection. He squeezed you tight and gave a contented groan.

“Oh, there we go,” he said happily, rocking you side to side a little. “Big squeeze.”

You smiled to yourself, comfortably crushed against him, knowing without a doubt you were loved and cared for and wanted. You couldn’t help but relax some of the tension in your frame as Danny hugged you, totally safe for a few blissful moments wrapped in his arms.

When you felt a little jelly-legged and more relaxed than you’d felt all day, he gave you one last squeeze and let you go.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Thanks, Dan.”

He grinned and gave you a goofy kiss on the forehead. “You’re welcome. Come get me if you need another.”

He gave Josh a quick smooch on the cheek as he left. “Here. A little something for you, too.”

Josh giggled and playfully pushed Danny away. “You’re a nut, Daniel.”

You heard Danny laugh as he went to rejoin the rest of your friends, and you turned to your boyfriend with a grateful smile.

“Thank you for getting him, Josh.” Your friends were the most precious thing in the world to you next to him, and you were always thankful to be so loved and cared for by the people you loved most.

His smile was gentle. “You’re welcome, honey.” He came close and gave you a hug of his own, not as squeezy as Danny’s, but every bit as nice. You rested your head on his shoulder as he drew his hands up and down your back.

“Did it help?” he asked.

You nodded. He kissed your temple.

“I’m glad,” he said softly. “I knew it would. You needed a good squeeze, and our Danny’s very talented at it.”

“Yeah,” you said, and your voice was tight. You looked up at him. “How do you always know how to take care of me like you do?”

He smiled. “I love to learn how to love you,” he said simply. He laughed. “It's kind of like a hobby. Before we got together, I’d find out something that you liked and promise myself that I’d remember it, so that if I ever worked up the courage to tell you I loved you, I would know all the things that made you happy.”

You framed his beloved face with your hands. “You know you're at the top of that list, right?”

You felt his smile under your hands as you saw it light up his face.

“You’re so sweet, baby.” He kissed you. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I love you very much.”

He hugged you again, and you rested against him. “I love you very much too.”

(i'll rb with tags later because i don't want to wrestle with tumblr right now djhjdhb)

[formulakatya]

SLOW DOWN | MICK SCHUMACHER

“slow down, you crazy child, you’re so ambitious for a juvenile but then if you’re so smart tell me why are you still so afraid?”

not my gif :)

summary: falling victim to your high ambition and expectations, you’re lucky that mick is there to help you work through the burn out

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

notes: idk i just love ‘vienna’ by billy joel, unedited (sorry) because my best ideas come quickly and im writing on tumblr for whatever reason when i should’ve done this on google docs

warnings: mentions of burnout and mental health

—

“this is so stupid!”

your statement catching his attention, mick looked up from his phone as angie quickly ran over to you as you lightly threw your pen on the table. staring at the physics question again, you quickly picked your pen back up before furiously scribbling your answer to the question.

you were close to ripping your hair out at this point, trying to figure out where you had gone wrong as you repeated the question under your breath, justifying each step of your answer.

and though your oblivion to the state you were slowly spiralling into, mick had recognised it all too well as your current position only confirmed the suspicion he had for the past 2 days or so.

“you should take a break, liebling,” mick spoke, petting angie as the dog came back to him as he sat on the edge of your shared bed. “come on!”

“mick, i can’t,” you sighed, not looking up from your notebook as you furiously scribbled on your notebook, putting your pen down so you could turn to look at him. “i’ve got so much to do and there’s so little time! there’s just too much going on…”

“what do you have to do? i can try to help…”

“past papers, some revision and more studying, i’ve finished my homework but i have loads of studying to do for finals that are in like two weeks,” you let out a sigh as you flipped through the papers scattered on your desk. “then i have to go to the gym and i’ve got training, my tennis match is coming up.”

“slow down,” mick chuckled, “you’ve done enough studying, more than enough throughout the past month or so. you’ll be fine, you don’t have to keep pushing this much.”

“but my grade mick! my grade!” you stressed, desperation evident as you spoke, “it has to be good! it’s either great or nothing. and i still have more to do, i still haven’t brought angie out on a walk and i have to run errands and get some stuff.”

you were spiralling, it was obvious. and with so much on your plate, mick couldn’t blame you for it. though he understood your worries and ambition, he still couldn’t help but want you to slow down and take a break. maybe it was out a selfishness, having wanting to spend a day with you ever since he came back to switzerland but it was also out of concern.

he needed you to cool down before you completely burnt out.

you were highly ambitious and a high achiever for as long as he had known you— only ever wanting to be the best in nearly everything you did from sports to academics. and though the results showed it’s benefits, the mindset also came with its downsides.

“it’s okay to take a break for a day or two, and most importantly, it’s okay to rest. you’re only ever human, and so you can’t do everything at once. there’s no reason to feel guilty,” he let out a laugh as he replied to the response he could foresee coming. “you can finish this last bit of work but promise me you’ll take a break.”

“yeah but-“

“no arguments,” mick cut you off before you could continue. “we’ll bring angie out and get some ice cream or we can do something else. i don’t want you burning out. doing things at a slow pace with breaks will always be better than overdoing things and burning out because reigniting a flame isn’t always easy”

[thescarletnargacuga]

Art: @iamespecter

CHAPTER TWO

Racing AU

After the excitement of the track wears off, Pomni's situation sinks in. She's trapped. The others try to make her feel welcome and introduce her to Kaufmo. What could go wrong?

WARNING: angst, abstraction, some violence

Ch1

The racers all filed into the garage as the NPC audience cheered their last. Caine joined them inside and snapped his fingers. All their karts teleported inside to their respective part of the open floor plan garage. There was a spiraling metal stair case to a second floor loft that lined the outer wall. Every upstairs door lead out to overlook the garage. To the far right was a lounge with comfortable looking couches and chairs and recreational activities; such as pool and table tennis.

Pomni wiped the last of the confetti off her shoulder as she looked around. "Is this...all there is?"

"Of course not!" Caine chimed in before anyone else could answer. "In between races you have full use of the practice track! Take a look!" He opened the blinds and the outside looked different. The start line was the same but the stands where empty. The track no longer led underground but instead continued to curve around the garage and looped back to the start in a perfect oval. "And inside, you can play mini games with your new friends!" Pomni stared at the others with uncertainty. "Also!" Caine pulled Pomni by the hand to an empty kart area of the garage. "You can customize your kart! Everything from the engine and tires to the body and paint! The only limit is your imagination!"

"And the game's source engine." Jax added. "I've already tested that. He won't let you add more that five accessories to the kart or you end up clipping into the void."

"The...void?" Pomni paled.

"Now, Jax. We needn't bring THAT up. It's nothing to concern yourself with, my dear. There are many safety features in place to prevent that from happening. I can assure you, as host, I've never lost anyone in the void. I know all your positions at all times thanks to my wacky watch!" Caine proudly showed the small purple TV on his wrist. Six blips appeared on screen.

Caine tapped his watch. "Huh...Welp, I gotta get going! The tracks don't generate themselves! I've got to prepare for tomorrow's race! Speak to one of our Bubble assistants if you have any more questions!" Then with a pop, he was gone.

Pomni took a step back and rubbed her arms as she looked at everyone still staring at her. "Look, uh... The race was fun, but...how do I...leave?"

The others looked down or away from her. None of them wanting to be the one to tell her.

Jax groaned incredulously. "You can't. None of us can."

"Jax!" Ragatha scolded. "Why do have to be so tactless!?"

"Because there is no tact when it comes to telling someone they're stuck in digital purgatory for all of eternity, Ragatha!" He got nose to nose with her and they glared at each other.

"Please, don't fight." Gangle whimpered.

"Seriously. Will you two get a grip?" Zooble rolled their eyes and looked at Pomni. "He's right though. Welcome to your new home." Zooble then went to the pinball machine in the lounge.

"What? Why can't we leave? I don't understand. Isn't this just a game?" Pomni felt he face again for the headset she barely remembered she had on before appearing here.

"It was supposed to be just a game..." A quiet voice came from the lounge. Kinger had turned the couch cushions and pillows into a fort and was securely inside it. "People were never meant to be stuck here. Something went wrong."

Pomni got closer to the fort. "What went wrong?"

Kinger popped his head out. "What went where?"

"You'll have to excuse him." Ragatha sighed. "He's been here the longest."

"That's why he's crazy!" Laughed Jax. "That's all our fates, Pomni. Giving into the madness or being broken by it."

Ragatha grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Jax. "Go be a nuisance somewhere else!"

"My impenetrable fortress!" Cried Kinger as the missing pillow left a hole in his carefully made fort.

"Fine. I've got better things to do anyway. Like eat. Hey, Bubble chef!" Jax walked off to a table set for dining and a Bubble appeared to assist him.

Gangle got the pillow Ragatha threw and fixed Kinger's fort.

"Thank you." Kinger sighed with relief and disappeared inside.

Ragatha put a gentle hand on Pomni's shoulder. "Look...being here isn't so bad. Caine keeps us busy and we have each other." She glared at Jax. "For better or worse. There's one person you haven't met yet, he wasn't at the race today. Would you like to come with me to check on him?"

Pomni had been out of it as she really processed her situation. No way to leave. Stuck in digital purgatory. Forever. She could never go back to the life she had. Everything and everyone she had known didn't matter anymore. She vomited.

Ragatha jumped back to keep from stepping in it, but kept her hand on Pomni. She gently steered Pomni to the stairs. "Come on, Kaufmo will cheer you up. He's very good at it. Clean up!" She called out and a Bubble appeared.

"I'm on it!" The Bubble proceeded to lick up the mess. Gangle was nearly sick herself witnessing it.

Ragatha and Pomni went upstairs and walked along the long loft towards Kaufmo's room.

"Ragatha...I'm confused. Why participate in the races at all? Why not search for a way out? Are we really sure we can't leave?" Pomni said quietly.

"You aren't the first person to search for the exit, many have tried. None have succeeded." They walked past door after door. Many blank but a few had faces. Unknown faces with red Xs painted over them. "We all looked for a way out at some point or another, but we've come to accept our place here because ...well, constantly pursuing an unobtainable goal will drive you to mind breaking insanity. And when you've reached that point...there's no return."

"[@#$& !¥π∆]" Pomni muttered, the cartoonish sound effects not phasing her this time.

"...I know." Ragatha frowned and knocked on the door to Kaufmo's room. No answer. "Kaufmo? Hey, you in there? We got a new racer today! Wanna meet her?" No answer. "Huh, maybe he's not in his room?"

BOOM!

Something large and heavy hit the wall in front of them. It shook the building and got the attentions of those still downstairs.

BOOM!!

The wall around Kaufmo's door started to crack. The door itself buckling from impact.

BOOM!!!

The door flew off the wall, Ragatha and Pomni dove out of the way, missing it by inches. The door hit the railing and fell end over end to the ground floor with a loud crash. The girls looked up at the emerging creature from the broken doorframe. A beast of indeterminate dimensions snarled as it's many eyes look wildly around in their sockets.

"What is that!?"

"Remember that whole 'point of no return'? This is it! Run, Pomni!" Ragatha took off down her section of the railing. Pomni turned on her heel and ran the opposite direction. The beast tried swiping at them both, causing it to flop on the railing in front of it, crushing it. The beast roared and randomly chose to go after Pomni. Those on the ground could only watch as Pomni circle the building trying to get to the stairs.

"What's happening!?" Gangle screamed, hiding behind Zooble.

Zooble looked up in horror as they connected the dots. "Kaufmo...no."

Jax sat under the dinner table with the stack of pancakes he ordered. He sighed and took a bite. "Here we go again."

Pomni made it to the stairs before Ragatha and slid down the railing. She fumbled the landing but kept running to the door that led outside. The beast caught Ragatha at the stairs and smashed her against the wall. The janked nature of the beast made Ragatha glitch. She screamed as she was thrown around again and again, eventually being tossed over the side and landing hard on the garage floor.

The beast jumped with the intent to crush Ragatha, but Gangle's ribbon grabbed her leg and pulled her free of the impact zone. The beast came down hard and broke the floor, textures started glitching in and out.

"In here! Quick!" Kinger opened his fortress and beckoned Zooble, Ragatha and Gangle inside. They hunkered down and held each other as they heard the beast get up from its fall. It roared and started smashing at an outside wall.

"Pomni is still out there!" Ragatha was barely understandable through her glitched speech pattern. "We have to help her!"

"No! Stay out of sight. Safe." Kinger stuttered out. The bashing and crashing of the abstracted Kaufmo brought back too many memories. He curled himself in the fetal position and stared at nothing.

Zooble pulled off one of their eyes and used it to discreetly peak out. The beast was trying to break though the wall where the entrance door was. They looked around and saw Jax still under the dining table, just finishing his pancakes. "He's right. Caine's never gone for too long. We have to wait this out. ...like last time."

"And the time before that and the time before that and the time before that-" Kinger repeated.

Gangle held Zooble's hand. Despite her best brave face, she was shaking. "It's Kaufmo, isn't it?"

Zooble nodded.

Gangle started to cry. "I didn't think it'd be him next. He was always so...so..."

"Happy? Yeah, hate to break it to you, but if someone is happy all the time...they're not." Zooble put their eye back and held Ragatha's glitching hand. It made their own arm glitch but they bared the pain to be of some comfort to Ragatha.

BOOM!!

The building shook as the beast made it outside. It saw Pomni making a break for the stands and charged. Pomni ran as fast as her new little legs could go. She could see an entryway inside the stands, maybe she could hide there. Over her shoulder, she could see the beast gaining. Not looking ahead, she ran into the door and fell on her ass.

She scrambled for the door handle. The beast was nearly upon her and WHAM! She made it though the frame just in time. She got to her feet and ran in any direction away from the door. She saw some stairs with a sign that read "Announcer Booth" and she bolted up them. The higher she went the more the textures around her started to de-load.

"For [✓√@&#] sake, how tall is this tower??" She huffed. She took a moment to catch her breath when she finally made it to the top and took a look around. She wasn't in any kind of tower, in fact, it looked like she wasn't anywhere at all. Blank gridded walls and ceilings went as far as the eye could see. Unused textures and assets sparsely dotted the landscape. Peices of half built track hovered unsupported. Obstacles still in the process of being designed.

"Pomni? What are you doing here??"

Pomni screamed at the top of her lungs and swung around to see Caine hovering just feet from where she stood. Tie loose, cane, top hat, and coat missing, he looked as though he'd been very busy and she interrupted him.

"I realize you're new around here, so you didn't know, but I don't like people seeing my unfinished work. It's...well, a bit embarrassing." He cleared his non-existent throat. "You'll get a front row view of my latest creation tomorrow, I promise! I'll just send you back now."

"WAIT!"

Caine paused mid-snap.

"There's a thing outside! It attacked us!"

"Attacked? No enemies should be in bounds this late in the day."

"No, No! It was the guy! The UHHH-" Pomni struggled to remember the name in panic.

Caine gave her a look. "The 'guy'? Really now, if you just wanted an excuse to stay up here, you could have just said so. I do have a few mostly completed projects I suppose I could show you-"

"NO! THE GUY! THE CLOWN! THE- THE- KAUFMO! That's his name! Kaufmo turned into some beast and is breaking everything! He hurt Ragatha!"

"Kaufmo abstracted!? Why didn't you say so!" He grabbed Pomni's hand and teleported with her to the starting line. There they saw the beast still bashing it's head(?) against the door to the stands. He snapped his fingers and the monster started to levitate.

"Into the cellar you go." A pit opened as Caine lowered the beast down.

Pomni was floating with Caine and the pit opening made her grab his arm tightly. She watched the beast that was Kaufmo fall down into the darkness, his roar sounding like a pitiful wail as the pit closed.

"Well...that's that." Caine's usual boisterous voice came out somber as he looked down where the pit had been.

"How many times has this happened?" Pomni asked, her voice raspy from screaming.

"Too many times." Caine left it at that as he snapped his fingers again and the damage to the buildings repaired. He teleported inside with Pomni to check his charges.

"Caine! About [@#$&!] time!" Zooble grunted as they fought to keep their own composer, helping Ragatha out of the pillow fort.

"Oop-" Caine snapped his fingers and they were normal again. He then floated down to let Pomni touch solid ground again. "Sorry about that, everyone. I was looking for Kaufmo initially, his signature wasn't coming up on my wacky watch, but then I...you know, got distracted. So much work and only so much me to handle it all." He laughed nervously. "Speaking of which, I really need to get back to it. Big race tomorrow! Rest up, my little superstars!" He poofed away.

A heavy silence fell over everyone. They looked at each other, shaken over when just happened. The building was completely repaired, even Kaufmo's room. No signs that someone abstracted. Like it never happened...or mattered.

Jax stretched as he stood up from the floor. "Uuuuugh! Finally. I was tired of sitting under there."

Ragatha saw red. She stormed over to Jax and smacked him hard enough to echoe through the garage. "What the [@#$!] is wrong with you!? Kaufmo just- he- how can you take this so lightly!?" Tears burned her unbuttoned eye.

Jax rubbed his face but otherwise didn't flinch from Ragatha. "How can you take this so seriously? It's not like it's the first time it's happened. And it won't be the last." He looked down at her. "I'm going to bed, unless anyone else wants to smack the [@#$&] out of me?" No one looked at him so he pocketed his hands and went upstairs.

Ragatha broke down into sobs. Gangle tried to comfort her. Zooble couldn't handle any more and left to their room. Kinger was politely putting all of the pillows back to her original places. Pomni went to him.

"Hey, uh...Kinger, right?"

"AH! Oh, hello, didn't see you there." He yeeted the pillow he was holding when he got startled so he clasped his hands together in front of him.

"The... Kaufmo thing-"

"Abstraction." Kinger said flatly.

"Uh, yeah...how many times has it happened?"

"So many times. So many friends. So many-"

"Give me a number. Please." Pomni tried to disguise her frustration with a smile.

"Eight people started the race. Then there were seven. Then six. Then seven. Then six. Then four. Then five. Then eight. Then seven. Then six. Then five. Then six. Then five. Then six. Then seven. Then six." Kinger started to shake in place, his eyes bloodshot.

Pomni took a step back. "Yeesh, maybe you are just crazy." She looked to Ragatha and Gangle having a cry over Kaufmo. She felt awkward possibly interrupting so she went upstairs.

She followed the doors. So many Xs. So many "abstractions". Was this really their fate? To play some game forever or risk falling apart? Her mind raced as she finally saw a door with her face on it. It's big, pleading eyes staring back at her.

"I'm getting out of here. Death would be a kinder fate than this." She took one last glance at the X'd doors and went inside her room.

~~~

Ch3

[capitalisticveins]

SURPRISE D.A.M.N CREW GENERAL HCs ‼️

I don’t like making hcs on my phone but Friendsgiving yesterday rlly motivated me to just do it

— Caelum likes to chew on his shirt when he’s bored

— Dear has 5 umbrellas even though they live alone

— FL has no idea AI art exists

— Dear likes to buy Lasko ties

— Caelum thinks cats are adorable but is absolutely terrified of them

— Gavin is shit at golf, bowling, and basically every sport in existence except for gymnastics, cheerleading, and table tennis

— Huxley can flex his tits

— Lasko buys every fan except Lasko brand fans

— Dear hasn’t played Mario Kart before but when they first played with Lasko they decimated him

— Damien’s favorite kind of animals are the hairless ones

— Caelum can’t hopscotch

— FL can’t be trusted to go grocery shopping for people because they have shit willpower and no common sense they will buy the wrong brand of item you want and buy 3 packs of pizza rolls for themselves with the person’s money

— Huxley can’t jump rope properly because the rope can’t go around his body

— Damien has a schedule of what to wear and when. He wears specific shirts on SPECIFIC days of the week.

— FL has a child safety lock on their computer for Caelum and Gavin

— Everyone has to tell Damien where they’re going whenever they leave their houses

— Dear somehow got everyone’s number before Friendsgiving and asked everyone to point out Lasko’s use of Mahogany/Burnt Sienna on the letters

— Gavin isn’t allowed inside Max’s Rustic Pizza anymore

— If Damien would let him, Huxley would touch lava, like seriously slap it

— FL likes to dress up as Aang for Halloween

— Lasko and Damien are the only ones to own a bidet

— Huxley owns a mermaid dress

— Gavin owns a fur coat

— As a kid, Huxley was too shy to ask his moms to peel his oranges for him so he just sorta ate them with the peel on until he was 11

— Gavin is banned on tiktok

- and twitter

— Caelum’s wings flap like a hummingbird’s

— Huxley is the only member to buy proper sweet snacks. Lasko buys offbrand and Damien doesn’t buy sweets

— Gavin’s favorite cartoon character is Bugs Bunny

— Despite popular belief, Damien is willing to wear an itchy ugly christmas sweater

— Dear owns a border collie

— Lasko writes fanfiction

— Huxley’s luck is fucking amazing when he plays DND, so much so that it pisses off Lasko and now whenever they campaign with others he makes Huxley the dungeon master

— Damien doesn’t know how to skip

— Gavin can make his own alcoholic beverage at will

— FL isn’t from Dahlia. They’re from NY, but have never been in NYC

— Dear has a very strong opinion on Dasani. I don’t know if they strongly dislike it or strongly like it, but they feel very strongly about it.

— Huxley heard the news about the Summit online, saw it was hosted by Vincent and Lovely, recognized Lovely’s name, and went “wait a minute—”.

— Damien has thought about burning his baby pictures when Huxley found them.

— He attempted to do it when Gavin found them.

— FL has a sweet tooth and since Huxley is the only member to buy sweets, they sneak into his house and consume most of it.

After Damien moved in with Huxley he once woke up at like 2am to get a glass of water and saw FL hunched over sucking the frosting off of the mini cupcakes Huxley buys and chugging milk out of the container, their eyes were glowing in the dark and there was a ton of containers on the floor.

Damien went back to sleep without saying a word. When he woke up all traces of FL being in the house were gone and they don’t recall the night ever happening. No one believes him.

The only reference to the night happening is that all the snacks he saw FL eating were gone.

Lasko believes him but FL won’t let him tell Damien he believes him (it has happened to Lasko too and that’s why he buys offbrand).

— Gavin has accidentally killed someone with a rift.

— Caelum too but he doesn’t know.

— Dear is gonna buy Lasko rash ointment for Christmas with no malicious intent whatsoever.

— Damien owns the same amount of shoes as Milo.

— Gavin can’t swim. Gavin’s bad at a lot of things.

— Caelum can swim with water wings. Caelum’s good at a lot of things.

[varpusvaras]

"What's wrong with you?" Twenny hears Seventeen ask Fiftys. "That's a longer face than the Long-necks necks if I've ever seen one."

"Twenny keeps carrying Tennie everywhere", Fiftys mutters.

"Jealous? And here I thought he got Tennie because you absolutely refused to be babied."

"Ew, no", Fiftys says. "But at this rate Tennie will forget how to walk, and then they will take him away, and then Twenny will cry."

Twenny grips Tennie tighter.

"He will not", he says. "And even if he does, I will keep carrying him. He's small."

"He won't be small forever", Seventeen points out. Twenny grips Tennie even tighter.

"He's my little brother", he says, or more states. "I will always carry him."

Seventeen decides to leave it at that, and that's just how Twenny likes it.

---

"You're gonna have to start carrying him on your back soon", Sixies says. "He's getting long. He looks like one of those bugs, with his legs sticking out like that."

Twenny knows that Tennie is sticking his tongue out at Sixies from where he is resting his head against Twenny's shoulder, his arms around Twenny's neck.

"He's too cute to look like a bug", Twenny says. "And I will carry him how I like."

---

He does have to start carry him on his back eventually. At that point Twenny is Cody and Tennie is Fox, and everyone has been telling him that he's just being stubborn and that it was already time for him to stop carrying Fox around like a tubie.

It's way too early for Cody, still.

---

"I didn't know you were such a light-weight", Wolffe teases Fox, as Cody drags him out of 79's.

"Don't bully him", Cody tells Wolffe. "I've seen you under the table too many times for you to be able to say anything."

Wolffe just rolls his eyes as Cody pulls Fox onto his back.

"I'm taking you to our barracks for tonight", Cody says. "You can go back to the Guard's base in the morning."

Fox hums something against the back of Cody's neck. He really is light, Cody thinks then, and he cranes his head back to look at Fox. The only thing he can see is his little brothe's bangs.

"They feeding you enough here?" He asks, and Fox hums something again, too far gone to actually answer, and Cody hoists him higher and tells himself to ask again in the morning.

---

"Don't you think I'm a bit too big for this now?" Fox asks him, his voice coming muffled from where he is speaking against Cody's pauldron.

"Never", Cody answers instantly. "You're my little brother. You cannot be too big for this."

"Okay", Fox answers, and then he is quiet, as Cody carries him up to the higher levels, where the Guard's medics are already coming towards them.

Cody feels weird when he puts Fox down on the gurney. Tight. Too light, like there is a chunk of his flesh suddenly missing.

He ignores it. Fox just has a light concussion and a sprained ankle. He could've gotten himself out of there by himself, by all accords, not that it had mattered to Cody in the slightest. Fox is his little brother. Of course Cody can come and carry him back home.

Fox is fine, and Cody is right there, his hands ready to reach.

---

His dreams have shifted, lately. Almost every night, Cody is standing there, alone, his hands reaching for something, but his arms stay empty, too empty, too light. There is a piece of Cody missing, a piece that is almost the size of himself, if not at the same time impossibly bigger, a gaping wound in his flesh that will not heal.

It will not heal even when he is awake, now, spilling his blood freely wherever he goes, leaving a trail behind him that only he can see.

Cody knows grief. He knows it like it's the second nature of him by now, but something is wrong with it this time. It's like he is already grieving, even though nothing has yet happened.

His General looks at him, sometimes, and from the look in his eyes Cody wonders if he can see the blood as well, if he somehow knows that this is Cody's destiny, and that there is nothing he or anyone else can do about it.

Cody carries it, like the soldier he is.

---

CC-2224 carries it, like the brother he is, and he tries to understand how something can be too light and too heavy at the same time.

Perhaps it is just like how he can be a big brother without a little brother, his arms heavy with the emptiness they now carry.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Sub!Luke Masterlist

and I’ll always let you (ao3) - mercutionotromeo luke/ashton E, 3k

Summary: Overhead, the speaker tells them it’s ten minutes to showtime. Luke freezes and gives Ashton a questioning look, but Ash just fits his mouth over the head of his cock again.

“Mm-mm. Not done with you.”

Luke cries out at the feeling of Ash’s tongue on him and grabs the edge of the makeup table to steady himself, his rings clinking against the smooth surface. Ash pulls off of him and looks up at the wrecked expression on Luke’s face. He has him right where he wants him.

better than anything you’ve tried (ao3) - mercutionotromeo luke/ashton E, 2k

Summary: “Good puppy. Want you to shake that pretty ass for me. Show me what I’m missing, hm? Show off for me.”

Ash bites his lip as he thinks about gripping Luke’s hips, about leaving nail marks on his ass, about slapping one of his soft thighs just to hear him squeak.

“Perfect. My perfect, pretty puppy. You want to touch yourself, puppy? Would that feel good?”

Bottom Boy Baptism (ao3) - plushyluke luke/ashton, michael/luke E, 5k

Summary: Ashton and Luke have been sneaking around since they got together.

Court Five (ao3) - takemymoneycth luke/ashton, michael/calum E, 21k

Summary: A story in which a young college tennis player maybe likes his new coach a little too much.

Ease (ao3) - Grace_Williams calum/ashton, michael/luke G, 138k

Summary: In a world where everyone was a dominant or a submissive and everyone had an assigned soulmate, Ashton was remarkably unsure of himself. Nothing is going as he planned and his soulmate, Calum, is, to put it simply, not who he expected.

Michael is Calum's best friend and an all round terrible example when it comes to navigating relationships.

Calum's assistant Maggie, along with her soulmate Carla, seem to be the only ones who do understand how a relationship is supposed to work.

Are they the only people can put those around them at ease?

Everything That’s Come and Gone (ao3) - MCRmyGeneral ot4 E, 6k

Summary: Mostly he just sat and stewed on the fact that apparently he’d been fucking as least Ashton, if not all his boyfriends, for months while they laughed behind his back.

Or, Ashton says the wrong thing and it makes Luke think too much.

for you are not beside but within me (ao3) - elysianhood luke/calum E, 11k

Summary: Calum pulled Luke up with his blonde locks by his right hand and wrapped his left tightly around his throat, restricting his airway, and leaned in close to the teary blue eyes, hissing threateningly, ‘You never – ever – speak to me like that ever again, you filthy slut. Ever. You don’t fucking tell me what to do. You’re just a fucktoy, remember? A dirty, fucking whore. That’s all you’ll ever be.’

or; Luke was a bad boy and Calum isn’t happy.

Green Light (ao3) - SpencerKnight ot4 E, 181k

Summary: Class is an age old concept–almost as old as the concept of human slavery, and in a world where buying humans is a standard behavior by those who can afford it, Luke’s only hope as a member of the lower class is that he falls into the hands of a decent buyer–the hands of Ashton Irwin and his partners. Luke knows he has one chance to please his buyers or he risks getting put back on the market, but he’s thrown for a loop when Ashton admits that Luke is the one that gets to call the shots. In an attempt to find security with the trio, Luke braces himself and gives them the green light to do whatever they want with him.

He had no idea they would refuse.

It's Okay, Princess (ao3) - lashtonaf luke/ashton E, 2k

Summary: Luke likes being a tease, if he knows that Ashton will punish him for it.

i want you to want me this way (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton T, 6k

Summary: Luke just wants to show Ashton how pretty he looks. Ashton wants to ruin him.

Never On The Ground (ao3) - fourdrunksluts luke/ashton E, 4k

Summary: Just before their performance of No Roots, Luke bites off more than he can chew.

Permanent Chase (ao3) - valiantnerd (arareads) luke/ashton E, 7k

Summary: “I don’t know what you’re trying to get out of this, Luke, but I’m not falling for your attention-grabbing bullshit,” Ashton hissed and it was deliciously threatening, Luke half-wondered how much pushing his boundaries could take before threats became actions. He licked his lips, not caring about hiding his growing smile. “You already did, though.” - Luke drags Ashton to a party, puts on a little show and gets what’s coming to him.

tell me what your worst fantasies are (i bet they look a lot like mine) (ao3) - orphan_account ot4 N/R, 8k

Summary: :+: or where Luke has twisted fantasies and the boys have twisted minds:+:

the Light in Your Eyes and the Dark in Your Heart (ao3) - twinkylukey luke/ashton E, 3k

Summary: Luke’s a sweet rope bunny. The end.

We’re classic together like egyptian gold (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton E, 3k

Summary: It’s been two months. Luke picks up on the third call.

Yes Daddy (ao3) - cinnamonhood ot4 M, 2k

Summary: Luke and Calum are caught breaking the rules and are punished by their daddies.

[babydxhl]

what's it like, to shoot a man?

the terror sentence starters | still accepting.

Aware of listening devices, of body cams, of all the little eyes and ears that go into Getting Got, she settles her elbows on the cold metal tabletop and watches him, chin cupped in her hands.

"You don't know?" Her voice is clear, aspartame sweet, but there's a rasp to it — joining in to Arkham's nightly choir of screams. It doesn't fit the picture. Orange makes her look sickly. Doesn't fit. She tilts her head a little, frustrated, and slumps back in her seat like a sullen teen.

There's a long pause broken only by the sound of one canvas tennis shoe tapping a toe into metal. Finally, quietly: "I don't think about it like that." She settles her gaze on the curve of the vigilante's left ear; she doesn't want to meet the blank eyes, but she won't turn her face away in some mimicry of shame or discomfort. One fingernail — outdamnedspotisay — drums a little tin-tap rhythm on the table.

"It was him or me, when it happened. He wouldn't let go."

The simplicity of her tone shaves down the face of it, pulling something bearable out of cold marble. A man like a wounded animal, a dead child, a ransom plot gone viciously wrong. He'd looked up at her with a look like a pet to its owner and gripped her ankle, caught her on the way out the door, caught her with the cops already storming up the fire escape and said don't-leave-me-don't-leave-me with a bubble of blood in his throat.

Him or me. She had shot him and yanked her foot free. Her breath had been a shriek in her lungs.

"It's just... survival. That's all anything is, in the end." She feels cold melancholy creeping up her spine through a haze of antipsychotics and tries to shrug it off. "'Film your murders like love scenes, and film your love scenes like murders' — you know who said that?"