#tell me how to get hair like this... seriously

[hoshifighting]

I was reading your leaving after a fight reaction and o got an idea could you please do one where reader leaves and goes to a bar and gets drunk they get a call from the bar and it’s just fluff

seventeen reacting to you getting drunk after a fight WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and arguments, & fluff too.

seungcheol grabs his keys, his mind racing. he can’t let you drown in this. when he arrives at the bar, he spots you immediately. you’re laughing with a group, a glass in hand. “hey!” he snaps, but the bark in his tone quickly fades as you turn to him “what the hell are you doing? this isn’t fun. you need to come home.” he tries to keep his voice steady, but the concern leaks through. “why? so we can fight more?” you roll your eyes, but u look vulnerable still. “you think you’re perfect? you’re not!” “i never said that. im just taking care of you” he bites. your eyes soften, and relief washes over him as you touch his arm, guiding him toward the door.

jeonghan's phone buzzes, cutting through his thoughts. it’s the bar, and his stomach drops. “on my way,” he snaps, not bothering to hide the urgency in his voice. when he arrives you turn, a grin spreading across your face that makes his heart ache. “jeonghan! come join the party!” “this isn’t a party! you need to come home y/n.” he reaches for the glass in your hand, gently prying it away. “let’s go home and talk this out. please babygirl” you hesitate, the fire in your eyes dimming as you look at him, the fight leaving your body.

joshua dont hop into the car, he throws himself in!!! he asks the bar number if you're doing okay as he drives. “there you are,” he says, pushing through the crowd. you know joshua cares too much. he’s sweet like that, always wanting to shield you from everything, even yourself. you look down at the bar top, the wood grain swirling under your fingertips. “i just... needed a break.” “from me?” he asks, sadly. you bite your lip. joshua’s expression softens, and he reaches out, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “can we just talk about it? please?” u glance up, meeting his gaze, and it feels like home. “fine. but only if u promise to stop being so fucking cute when we fight.” he chuckles, relief flooding his features. “no promises, babe.”

junhui “where are you?” he texts after the call, worry oozing through the words. “out,” you reply tersely, taking another drink. “the bar? seriously?” “what if i am?” you shoot back, but inside, you know you’re pushing him away. “stay there. i’ll be there soon.” “don’t bother,” you type, but your heart sinks at the thought of him not showing up. a short while later, the door swings open, and there he is—his hair a little messy, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. he strides over, concern etched into his features. “what are you doing?” he asks, taking the seat next to you. “just enjoying my night,” you reply, a little too defensively. he raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “by drinking alone?” “i’m not alone; i have my drink,” you mutter, taking a long sip as if it could drown your frustration. he leans closer, his voice dropping to a gentle tone. “you know that’s not what i meant. you’re not okay. let me take care of you baby? hm?” you nod, feeling the walls you built starting to crumble. “fine, but if you keep looking at me like that, i might just forgive you too easily.”

hoshi wrinkled his nose the moment he smelled the strong drink you were drinking, he was clearly sweating like he was running a marathon to get to where you were. “you’re mad at me, but this isn’t how we solve things... you know you can tell me anything, right? even if it’s hard?” you take a deep breath, feeling the tension in your chest begin to ease. “i just hate fighting with you. it feels like we’re always stuck in this cycle.” “i hate it too,” he admits, reaching for your hand. “but running away doesn’t fix it. let’s talk.” “talk? like, actually talk?” you tease, a small smile creeping onto your face. “yeah, that thing where we don’t just yell at each other,” he says, grinning back. “i’m pretty good at it.” you can’t help but laugh, the sound lightening the mood.

wonwoo slides the helmet, and hops on his motorcycle, a few moments later, the door swings open, and there he is—hands in his pockets, that serious yet soft expression making your heart ache. he spots you and makes his way over, concern etched in his features. “you’re really here,” he says, his voice low. “didn’t think you’d come,” you reply, trying to sound indifferent, but you're soft. “and leave you alone like this? not a chance.” he sits beside you, his presence instantly calming. you glance at him, catching the way his brows furrow slightly. he squeezes your hand and kisses your neck softly “let's go home, hm? i'll give u a nice warm bath and we'll talk before going to bed, is that okay, sweetie?”

woozi strides over the bar, hair messy, body stiff, eyes worried, after the call, and you can see the scolding ready to spill from his lips. “i can’t believe you left without telling me. i was worried sick. you really just left? you could’ve told me!” “ listen jihoon, i didn’t want to fight anymore. it was too much.” he flinches, he didn't mean to snap at you, but he was really worried. “i get it,” he replies quietly, his voice gentler now. “but you know you can tell me when it gets too heavy, right?” you take a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. “what do u say we talk about it over ice cream? my treat,” he suggests, a playful grin breaking through. “ice cream sounds perfect,” you reply, matching his smile. “you always know how to fix things.” “it’s a talent,” he jokes, and you can’t help but laugh, the heaviness of earlier fading into something sweet.

minghao asks the bartended to pass the phone to you, “i’m coming to get you,” minghao’s voice is steady, cutting through your haze. “you shouldn’t be there.” “i’m fine,” you snap, but even you can hear the slight slur in your words. he knows you better than that. “you’re not,” he replies. when minghao finally walks in, the door swings open, and the bell jingles, like a damn superhero coming to save the day. “hey,” he says softly, the frown on his face deepening as he takes in your state. “you look… rough.” “yeah, well, thanks for the observation,” you retort, but there’s no real bite in your words. he steps closer, the scent of him wrapping around you like a familiar hug. “i didn’t ask you to come.” “no, but you need me,” he counters, taking your hand, grounding you. his touch makes your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but lean into him, feeling the fight inside you melt away. “let’s talk, okay? i love you and I hate fighting with you.” you melt, and minghao smiles small.

mingyu in quesiton of minutes was there, tall and worried searching for you on the bar, the call made him stumble on his feet on his way there. “you really shouldn’t be here,” you murmur, but your heart races as he approaches, the worry etched on his face only making you want to lean into him. “and you shouldn’t be here alone. we both know you’ll feel worse if you stay out like this. just let me take care of you.” the softness in his tone makes your heart twist. “you don’t have to play the hero.” “but i want to,” he insists, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. the warmth of his grip pulls you back from the edge of your frustration, reminding you of everything you love about him. “please?” you take a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing as you look into his eyes. “fine. let’s go home.” “thank you,” he whispers, pulling you into a hug that feels like coming home, before arriving in.

seokmin not even five minutes later appears on the bar, seokmin steps inside, scanning the crowd until his eyes land on you. relief floods his expression, and he rushes over, pulling you into his arms before you can say a word. “what the hell, you scared me,” he murmurs, hugging your back tightly. his warmth seeps into you, and you can’t help but melt a little. “you’re drunk.” his concern wraps around you like a blanket, and suddenly, the anger feels distant. “let’s get you out of here,” he whispers, still holding you close. “i don’t want you to feel like this.” “it’s just… everything’s a mess,” you admit, your voice cracking a bit. “we were fighting and—” “i know,” he interrupts softly, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “but we can talk about it later. right now, i just want to make sure you’re okay.” the sincerity in his gaze makes you want to cry, and you nod slowly. “okay.” he smiles gently, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “let’s go home, yeah?”

seungkwan the minutes tick by slowly, and every time the door swings open, your heart skips a beat. finally, you spot him striding in, “it’s… it’s not safe for you to be out like this,” he says. you pout. “i can take care of myself.” “you’re making this harder than it has to be,” he grumbles. as you slide off the bar stool, he’s already there, an arm around your waist, guiding you out. you laugh, the sound a bit shaky. “u should try being less of a pain in the ass, kwanniee” you tease, but it’s soft, a flicker of something sweet cutting through the tension. he smirks, finally breaking into a grin. “noted. now, let’s get you home before you say something else you’ll regret.”

vernon would keep his emotions bottled up, when he's almost purple in worry, would run to the bar fast, breathing properly only when he finally sees you. “i don’t need you to babysit me,” you sulk when you feel him taking you from the bar stool, “just… please? for once, let me be the responsible one,” he replies squeezing your waist. “oh, shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “i was just having a good time.” “more like trying to forget about our fight,” he counters, crossing his arms, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “let’s get you home before you embarrass yourself further.”

chan before the bartender ended the call, was already on the way. the moment he reaches you, he slips an arm around your shoulder, guiding you away from the noise. “you okay?” he asks, searching your face with those steady eyes. you can see the maturity in his expression, the way he balances concern in his heart with the logic, “i will be,” you say, though you know it’s not entirely trrue. his presence calms the storm brewing inside you, and u lean into him. “you’re allowed to feel things,” he expresses, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “but next time, can we talk instead of shouting? i’d rather understand what you’re going through.” you nod, the way he watches over you even after an imense fight. “yeah, that sounds good babe...” he smiles with the full of love name.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Guys, I got cuteness aggression this morning. Am I being delusional? Maybe, maybe not.

Pt 1, Pt 2

♥︎~

You sighed, stopping halfway on the set of stairs. "Whose bright idea was it to put our class on the top floor of this gigantic building? And why—seriously, why—don’t we have elevators?"

Mina snorted as she looked back at you. "Tired already?" she teased, nudging Jirou who laughed quietly at your pouty face.

"No shit, sherlock. These stairs are torture."

"You're a hero in training, honeybunch. Move those legs." Mina jogged the rest of the way up, reaching the top effortlessly with Jirou by her side. Both turned to look down at you, matching smiles on their faces.

You straightened up, arms crossed. “Nope, I’m done. You two can carry me the rest of the way.”

Mina chuckled; she had waited so long for this moment. “Why don’t you call your boyfriend to do it then? I distinctly remember you saying you’d love his hands all over you, especially when—”

“Shut up, Mina!” you screeched, bolting up the remaining steps and slapping a hand over her mouth before she could finish. Your face was on fire. How could she do this to you?

Jirou doubled over in laughter, slapping her knee for emphasis. Your face was painted with disbelief, which only fueled her laughter.

It was hard to keep a straight face when she was wriggling her eyebrows suggestively at you.

As you all walked to the doors of 1A, you took a deep nervous breath. Would Bakugo speak to you today?

"You look constipated." Jirou whispered, placing a hand on your shoulder as she stepped infront of you. "Calm down, girl."

As you entered the class, Bakugo's eyes immediately shot to you. Did you do something to your hair? He tries to remember what hairstyle you took the previous day and shakes his head, trying to tune back into the conversation he was having with Kaminari and Kirishima.

“...and bam! I took him out. Man, I hate campers,” the electric blonde said, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

Kirishima laughed, nodding. “I hear you, dude. Totally unmanly behaviour.”

Bakugo grunted in agreement but glanced back at you, almost as if he couldn’t help himself. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he was still trying to figure out what was different.

You felt a surge of confidence. Maybe today would be different. Maybe, just maybe, you’d actually get to talk to him without turning into a stuttering mess.

Mina gave you a gentle shove forward. “Go on, before you chicken out.”

You locked eyes with him and your heart tightened in your chest. Woah, his eyes were so pretty.

"Heyy y/n." Kaminari drawled, propping his face onto his palm as he winked at you. You rolled your eyes at his antics. "Morning Kaminari." you muttered.

"No good morning for the other two gentlemen here?" Kirishima playfully huffed.

You chuckled, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Good morning, Kirishima,” you said with a warm smile.

Oh boy, did you have to say that to him too?

“...hey Bakugo... morning.” You kept your voice steady, but your pulse quickened when his eyes stared up into yours.

"Mornin'." he grumbled, turning away to look at Kirishima, giving him a glare as if to say 'why the hell are you forcing it?'.

The redhead pretended to be oblivious to the holes that Bakugo was grilling into the side of his head as he chuckled at you. "See? That wasn't too hard, was it?"

You giggled, "Whatever, Kiri. See you guys later."

You exhaled shakily as you made your way back to the two girls who were waiting for you by the door with curious gazes. They motioned for you to go outside and with a shaky exhale, you did.

...

"Ohmygoshdidyouseethewayhewaslookingatyou?!" Mina squealed, shaking your shoulders excitedly.

"Let her breathe, Mina." Jirou whispered, though you could tell she was happy for the small interaction. "His eyes were so soft when he was speaking to you. He looked like a vulnerable little puppy." she mused, turning to you.

Mina nodded frantically. "And his eyes were on you like the whole time! Even when you were walking back to us! Rahh, just date already!" she jumped around.

Your face was so red. You spoke to him... he spoke to you... he was looking at you?

"Was he really looking at me?" you asked hopefully.

"Mhm."

Damn it, Katsuki Bakugo... the things you do to me.

♥︎~

Taglist! Thank you for all the support <3

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[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-two

759 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one

Eddie do you ever think about what you’re gonna do after high school? like how am i expected to know what i want to do with my life? i mean, i have another year to think about it but not that much can change in a year you probably wanna do something with music, right? make it big with your band and have people screaming your songs i’d go to every show if i could be your own personal groupie who knows? maybe that’s my calling p.s. have a good time at hellfire tonight i hope you win !!!!! -H

You’d think the win last night would put him in high spirits, and it did. At first. He celebrated with the guys, passed on the get together someone suggested, and drove home feeling proud. It was when he was laying in bed, though, that he started thinking. When he graduates, how often will he be able to ride a high like that? From pure accomplishment?

Steve puts on a brave face for morning practice. He doesn’t wanna drag anyone down with him. He goes through the motions of accepting congratulations and pats on the back from his peers and teachers alike all morning long. 

It only makes him think, though. 

Seriously, what comes after this? More school? Does he accept that internship at his father’s soul sucking company? Does he get a gob and jump right into adulthood?

What it really comes down to is the fact that Steve had never thought he’d have a future. Honestly. He’s getting closer and closer everyday to the next stage in his life, though. The years snuck up on him and now he has to deal with it. 

On a lesser scale, Steve doesn’t like thinking about what life will be like once Eddie graduates this coming May. How is Steve meant to tolerate this hellhole without him? Sure, he’d gone years without really noticing him, but now that he knows what it’s like to have a taste of him in his life, he doesn’t think he could go back. 

The whole thing makes his pulse quicken and sweat begin to bead at his hairline. By the time he makes it to art class, there’s a tension forming at his temples and he’s not looking forward to the headache. He doesn’t think he has it in him to act like everything’s normal. 

For once, Carol doesn’t acknowledge his foul mood. She’s too busy staring at Robin. For the portrait, of course. 

The teacher had informed them today the class is basically a free period and they can choose what to work on or what to not work on. 

Steve sits slumped over the table with his head resting on his folded arms. He kind of wishes Eddie hadn’t put the divider up and also that he had his sunglasses so he could stare at him without feeling weird about it. 

Instead, he rests his eyes and tunes into the sounds of pencil on paper surrounding him. He dozes for a while and has nearly fallen asleep when he’s awoken with a poke to his cheek. 

Steve peels his eyes open, but no one seems to be wanting his attention. There is, however, a piece of paper placed next to his left arm. 

It’s a drawing. 

A stick figure with tall swoopy hair and eerily realistic eyes. 

Steve looks to his left, only to find the culprit still hard at work with his face tucked behind the divider. 

Steve visually fills in the blank and surmises Eddie’s smile probably matches his own. 

Steve doesn’t dare fold the paper. He tucks it into the notebook he has to keep it safe. Throughout the rest of the day, he opens the book just to look at it. When he takes it home, he tapes it to a wall in his bedroom, somewhere he can always see it. 

Eddie did i ever tell you how sweet it is that your club has matching tees? i haven’t seen anyone who doesn’t do sports or the school band have a uniform but it makes sense that other clubs would, too you look good in black, don’t get me wrong, but GOD i thought i was gonna die the first time i saw yours so thanks for that also, while we’re on the subject of how hot you are,  you should wear your hair up more often p.s. sorry about the existential crisis on friday i wasn’t doing too good but i got a pick-me-up eventually <3 -H

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[luveline]

hey!! I'd love to see one where maybe jack and hotch try speaking to the baby in pregnant!reader's tummy :))

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You sniff Aaron’s hair. It’s your right as his wife to enjoy his smells. You’re too tired for subtlety. “You know how many weeks I am today?” you ask. 

You’re in a bubble together. Aaron answers with his usual calm tenor. “You are twenty seven weeks today, honey.” 

It’s endearing that he knows. It’s nice to have found a good one. To never have to worry about compassion or care. Which isn’t to say he’s perfect, he makes wrong decisions, and he disappoints you sometimes, but still, he’s a good one. You aren’t perfect either and you don’t have to be, all you need to do is love and respect one another as much as is physically possible, and you do.  

“Mm,” you hum, drawing a heart into his arm, “and you know what they say around this time?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“She can hear you, if you want to talk to her.” 

“Really?” 

“That’s what I read earlier on. That if you talk to her through my stomach, she can probably hear your voice. By full term she’ll have hearing like me and you.” 

“Is that true?” he asks, resting his hand on your bump. Sometimes when the baby is in a bad mood and her foot feels like it’s making a bruise through your skin, all Aaron has to do is touch you, and she stops. 

“Well, according to the baby book. They say by twenty nine weeks it’s a sure thing.” 

“Can I speak to her?” 

You brush through his hair with your pinky nail. “Sure, sweetheart. You can talk to her all night long, I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.” You push the hair from his forehead. “I like hearing you talk.” 

“Lay back,” he says. 

Aaron sits up and you lay down, your head in the pillows, your pregnancy cushion a support on your left side. He slides your t-shirt up slowly as though giving you time to say no. He begins to rub slow circles around the bump, before laying his head flat to he bed, his lip less than two inches from your distended tummy. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, unabashed. “How are you feeling?” 

You laugh. He peeks up at you. 

“Sorry, it’s just funny.” 

“It’s okay. I’d laugh if you started asking my stomach questions too…” He smiles. “But my baby’s in there, so you’ll have to forgive me.” 

“I won’t laugh again, promise.” 

“It’s fine if you do. I’m finding it hard to take myself seriously.” He slows his rubbing. “Baby, if you can hear me, please say hi… I love you. I’m so happy you’re getting bigger.” 

The longer he talks, the less funny it becomes. His melodic murmuring turns praising, he talks of you and Jack and every amazing thing waiting for the baby in the world when she’s done cooking. He tells her he loves her, loves you, that she’s beautiful even though she’s shaped like a GMO kidney bean. He’s totally relaxed. You fall in love with him all over again. 

“And it looks like your big brother wants to say hi too,” he says. 

You perk up. Footsteps rush down the hall to the master bedroom, and a knock echoes fast. Jack doesn’t wait for an answer, bursting in with a happy gasp. “I knew you were still awake,” he says. “Please can I come watch TV with you?” 

“Sure, buddy, but we aren’t watching anything right now,” Aaron says. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m talking to your sister.” 

Jack leans against the bed, fingers screwing in Aaron’s shirt unthinkingly. “You are?” 

“I read in my book today that she can maybe hear you when you talk to her,” you tell him. “Would you want to talk to her, bud?” 

“Can I?” 

“Sure. I don’t mind. I’d love for you to say hello, ‘cos how special is that? For the last few weeks, all she’s been able to hear is me. She doesn’t know she has a whole family waiting for her.” 

Aaron straightens and helps Jack climb onto the bed. He settles at the pillows with you, leaning down briefly to kiss you, lips misaligned but no less gentle. 

“What do I say?” Jack whispers, putting his hand carefully on your bump. 

“You can say anything you want,” you whisper back. “You can say hi, or you can tell her something. The best thing about babies is that we get to teach them about everything.” 

“Okay, um… well,” —he braces himself with two hands on your tummy and leans in— “you can’t see, but we have a dad with brown hair and brown eyes, and we have a super pretty mommy who smiles all the time at me…” Jack’s cheek tips toward his shoulder. “On Sunday they take me to the library and we stay there all morning. And for dinner we always have, um, one hand of vegetables and one hand of chicken, or pork, or pasta. But it’s okay if you can’t finish everything.” 

He looks at his father. “Is that okay?” he asks. 

Aaron offers his hand. “Buddy, that’s perfect. You can tell her anything that you want. She just wants to hear your voice.” 

“Can I tell her about teenage mutant ninja turtles?” 

You laugh. “Sure,” Aaron says. 

Jack starts to talk about Donatello. You try not to laugh as his little hands tickle you, turning your face into Aaron’s side. 

“I have so many things to say to you right now, but I’m worried it’s too saccharine,” he says. 

“Save them for later,” you say, hugging his waist. “Can I nap here? Would you rub my arm?” 

Aaron rubs your arm as you’ve asked. You fall asleep to the sound of your stepsons mumbled rambling and Aaron’s occasional breathy laugh. 

[misctf]

Make it Make Sense

Adam sat at his computer, finishing up a calculus assignment. He was trying to stay focused, but his thoughts shifted to his weekend plans. A few of his buddies were going to get together to see the football game, and he was looking forward to his club soccer game on Sunday. For all intents and purposes, it was going to be perfect.

“Are you serious?” The nasally voice of Adam’s roommate interrupts his thoughts, “I don’t understand, this doesn’t make sense.” Kelvin says, irritation soaking his words.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asks, turning towards his nerdy roommate. There were nerds and then there’s Kelvin. At first, he was relieved to have a roommate that was going to focus on their studies. But Kelvin proved to be more of a distraction than he could’ve ever expected.

“You know what’s wrong!” Kelvin says, “Look!” He slams his most recent lab report on Adam’s desk, “A 91%! That’s an A-.” He grumbles.

“That’s a great grade.”

“No, no, no! You got a 96%!” He continues, “How did you get a higher grade than me?”

You shrug, “It’s not that big of a deal. You’ll do better next time. And I know people that would kill for that grade.” Adam says, turning back to his assignment.

“No. That still doesn’t answer my question.” Kelvin adjusts his glasses, “How did you get a better grade?”

Adam runs a hand through his brunette hair, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not supposed to be smart.” Kelvin retorts, “You like football and you play sports. Smart people don’t do that.” Adam raises an eyebrow, “You can’t be both.”

Adam chuckles, “Both?”

“A nerd and a jock!”

Adam smirks, “Alright, well why can’t I be both?”

“You can only be one.” Kelvin insists.

“Only one?” Adam chuckles. He wasn’t what one would consider a jock. Nor was he a total nerd. He always felt he was somewhere in the middle, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not much of either. What do you think?”

Kelvin gave his roommate a curious look, clearly thinking hard about the question. He slowly smiles.

“Well, I guess all jocks have big muscles. And I mean, those are certainly impressive.”

Adam raises an eyebrow and looks down at himself. He could see his biceps and triceps putting strain on his shirt. And his pecs seemed to be jutting out a bit more than he was used to. He lifts a hand and feels his muscular chest. It felt unfamiliar to him.

“What...?”

“And I guess it makes sense that you never wear a shirt. Jocks hate hiding their muscles.”

The chill of the room air tickled Adam’s skin, his eyes narrowing as his bare torso is on full display. Wasn’t he just wearing a shirt? He looks up at Kelvin, clearly trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Wow, I mean, I knew your muscles were big, but now I can really see them.”

Adam grunted as his musculature expands. His pecs filling with more muscle, while his biceps and triceps grew larger and larger. He let out a pained grunt as his shoulders broaden and his back fills with muscle. He frame a now hulking mass of manly muscle.

“And I always found it odd how often you shaved your body hair. Always going on about how being clean shaven helps highlight your pecs.”

Adam looked down and watched as his dusting of chest and belly hairs vanish. His skin now clean-shaven and slowly staining with a rich tan. A tan he got from all his shirtless runs. Shirtless runs? He shakes his head.

“Kelvin, wh... something isn’t right, bro.” Adam’s eyes widen, “Dude, seriously! Cut this out, bro!”

“Say ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ ironically enough times and soon it becomes part of your vernacular.” Kelvin mocked, “But I doubt you’re worried about that. You care more about finding the right lighting for a quick flex.”

Adam gasps as he feels compelled. He slowly flexes his bicep, the lighting perfectly highlighting his musculature and abs. He can’t help but grin.

“And I can tell you care even less for hygiene.”

Adam grimaces at the musky smell that wafts from his exposed pit. But slowly, his grimace shifts into a grin. Something about his man musk always brings him a sense of joy. The smell of a real man. He barely registers his brunette hair becoming lighter, until the brunette becomes a blonde.

“Yeah, a blond jock. That’s what makes the most sense.” Kelvin continues, “But outside of flexing and enjoying your own stench, I guess it would make sense if you were obsessed with...”

“W-wait!” Adam says suddenly, “Please... Kelvin...” He looks desperately at his roommate.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense.” Kelvin reassures, “Because jocks like you are dumber than a lamppost. Barely even able to do basic math. So obsessed with your body that you don’t have time to nourish your brain.”

Adam’s eyes widen as he can literally feel his brain shrinking. His intelligence, knowledge, and kindness quickly being overwritten. His school smarts replaced by gym routines and different poses. His empathy and kindness twisting into self-indulgence and narcissism. His eyes glaze over as they reflect his new IQ. A smirk forms on his chiseled face as brazen overconfidence overwhelms any semblance of decency. He looks up at Kelvin.

“The fuck you lookin’ at nerd?” He scoffs, “You like what you see, bro?” He flexes his biceps.

Kelvin smiles, “Don’t you have soccer practice?”

“Pfft soccer, bro? Really? Shit sport. I gotta lift.” Adam retorts. He looks over at his computer, “What the fuck is that?” He quickly exits out of his calculus assignment and stands up.

“Wait, Adam...”

“Adam? Nah bro. I’ve told you 100 fuckin’ times to call me AJ.”

“Right. AJ,” Kelvin says, “Don’t you need a shirt for the gym?”

The dumb chuckle that follows is music to Kelvin’s ears, “Nah bro, why’d I hide this?” He flexes again, “Trust me, the dudes and chicks at the gym dig this.”

Kelvin watches as AJ slams the door behind him. A grin forming on the nerd’s face. Everything made sense now. And while Kelvin celebrated his newfound comfort with reality, AJ took great pride in the looks he was getting from the people he passed by. Flaunting his muscles at every chance he got. His smaller brain satisfied with the attention. His dick twitching from the excitement of being lusted after. Because to him, this made sense. Who wouldn’t want to ogle over his hot bod? That’s right, no one.

[suhkusa]

Osamu feels the text before he actually gets the chance to read it.

“What the fuck—” there’s a sudden hand on his shoulder.

“‘Samu, what the fuck did you do?”

Osamu is taken aback, but retorts. If anyone asks, Atsumu started it. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” One of Osamu’s hands grabs his brother's wrist, trying to pull his grip off.

Atsumu’s eyes are glaring into his own, “You know what you did,”

“If this is about Y/N, you had your chance and you fucked it up,”

Atsumu is pushing his twin into a nearby wall when he says, “That tweet was a lie, I was planning on fixing things with her. Why did you get in the way?”

“I got in the way? It wasn’t just the tweet, Atsumu. You know damn well. You started this with your stupid— truce,” Osamu’s pushing back. But his brother has always been the more athletic one.

“What truce?” a voice cuts through, and it’s yours.

The two of them freeze, still in their awkward position.

You’re stepping closer before you’re nudging Atsumu off Osamu. Osamu looked at his twin, and his facial expression definitely changed.

Atsumu really hasn’t seen you in a while, huh?

“What truce?” you repeat, but you sound more desperate, more demanding.

“It- It’s-” Atsumu begins to try to explain it, but it’s like the words don’t want to come out.

“Seriously? Am I just like a game to the two of you?” your voice is getting loud, but it’s straining. Like you’re hurt?

“I’m tired of this whiplash that both of you give me. You want me and then you don’t. You’re my friend and then you’re not. Can the two of you make up your mind?”

Osamu’s heart is shattering in his own chest. He never realized the weight of his actions until now. And as he glances at Atsumu beside him, he can tell he’s going through the same epiphany.

“I’ve tried, I really tried. You guys distanced yourselves from me after high school and for what? Some quick fucks and attention from girls?”

“You don’t know shit, Y/N,” Atsumu is the first one out of the two to finally speak. 

“What? What could I possibly not know?”

“That we both fucking like you!”

Osamu feels his own eyes widen along with yours. The shocked reaction doesn’t stop his brother.

“We’ve both liked you for god who knows how long, and we forced ourselves to try and stop,” he looks to Osamu, “but we both know how that went,”

“Stop criticizing me— and ‘Samu, for that matter, when you don’t know how it feels to give up someone you love for someone else that you love,” 

Osamu is still silent. He feels like he should say something, but he doesn’t. He can’t. His twin brother has said enough.

And in the end, Osamu still never got to confess.

Everything is silent. Atsumu is angry, you’re sad. Osamu doesn’t know what he is. Maybe conflicted?

It feels like everything just got way more complicated than it needed to be. Atsumu’s face drops before he runs a hand over his face and through his hair. He sighs before walking off. Osamu doesn’t know where Atsumu’s going. He doesn’t really care either.

His eyes then meet yours. Yours are glossed over. Like you want to cry, but you hold it back. He wants to reach out to you. 

But Osamu Miya is a coward. And he doesn’t say a word as you stalk off in the opposite direction.

BOTH AIN’T SH!T — EPIPHANY

PREV | MASTERLIST

ATSUMU | OSAMU

NOTES.

surprise!!! you get to choose your twin lol

congrats on finishing main story!

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[hoonigiris]

JEALOUSY

p. sunghoon x f!reader

0.9k

just silly shenanigans from a chronically jealous guy (he can’t help it he was born this way, just check his birth chart!!!)

“i think i need to lock you up.”

you slide your eyes over to him, exasperated. “what…”

sunghoon mutters under his breath, nodding seriously as he repeats the idea in his head until it sounds more plausible than insane. “yeah…” and then again, softer, “yeah…”

“nurse,” you call out to the empty air, “he’s out again.”

he looks at you gravely, shaking his head. “i think it needs to be done. for the greater good.”

“what am i, rapunzel?”

sunghoon opens his mouth to retort, but the image of you as a princess in that pretty, purple dress has him sidetracked and pondering. “that would be a good couple costume this year—flynn and rapunzel.”

“personally, i was thinking more rapunzel and mother gothel.”

the dreamy look in his eye drops almost immediately, suddenly remembering the reason he burst into the living room in the first place. whatever it was, nothing was worth interrupting you in the middle of a grey’s anatomy episode.

sunghoon moves in front of the tv, feet planted and stance determined. you crane your neck to the side to catch a better look of the screen. “can you move? dr. mcsteamy is in this scene and he’s extra hot this season.”

“wh—listen!”

you roll your eyes, pausing the show. “yes?”

“i’m serious!”

“about mother gothel?”

“about locking you up!”

you tilt your head, innocent. “isn’t that what i just said?”

sunghoon groans loudly, running a hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut to fight off an incoming headache. you’d almost feel bad for making his life harder if the threat of imminent captivity wasn’t looming over your head.

but he’s your boyfriend, and he’s obnoxious, and you love him anyway, so you toss the remote on the couch cushion next to you and you give him a smidge of what he wants. you like to call it a pity crumb.

"ok fine, i'll stop teasing," you relent, leaning into the couch with an amused glint in your eye. "why am i under arrest and why is it for the greater good?"

you have some vague idea, of course. any time sunghoon acts like this, the reasoning always lands somewhere around him being jealous, which, as frequent as it comes, is something you’ve learned to take in stride. play dumb, laugh at his antics, give him a kiss, and everything settles back to normal.

the reasoning tended to differ each time, enough to consider creating an encyclopedia page to study from, so you like to make it a game of sorts, to see if you can guess it correctly before he tells you. it’s the closest thing you’ll ever get to the thrill of being on an episode of jeopardy, so you like to relish in the challenge while you can. topic: things that make sunghoon jealous, for 500.

“you’re too…” sunghoon starts, taking you out of your proverbial podium and back to the couch, dr. mcsteamy and mcdreamy blocked behind him. he narrows his eyes, searching for the right word. “unassuming.”

“unassuming,” you repeat, bemused.

"yes." sunghoon knits his brows together, tortured at even the thought. "why else would you have come home with a coffee. from another man."

you look at him quizzically, and then remember how this morning, your classmate who you kept running into every morning at your local cafe offered to buy your drink. you'd accepted, of course; who were you to deny a perfectly innocent gift?

"oh please," you roll your eyes. "he was just being nice! besides, i'm sure he just did it since i helped him finish his lab report on time the other week."

sunghoon frowns. "he was hitting on you. he has motive."

you stare up at him with big, innocent eyes, like a defendant in front of the jury. "how could you ask me to look a gift horse in the mouth... especially when the horse had a cinnamon honey latte."

"because the horse wants to eat you!"

"but it was free!"

sunghoon whips out his phone, tapping a few times, and a ding! sounds from your own phone on the coffee table. you glance over, and try not to laugh.

VENMO sunghoon paid you $6.00 - 😐

"there," he huffs. "if you want free coffee, i'll pay for it from now on, okay?"

you eye him, amused. "if i say yes, will you free me from my predestined shackles?"

he opens his mouth and you can tell by his expression he's about to get started again, so you rescind yourself quickly. "okay, okay. consider it done."

it's sweet, in some way, to have him care this much, even if he makes such a big fuss about it. there's something in his gaze that bleeds earnestness, even through the indignancy, that makes you want to peel him back more. jealousy is an ugly beast, even if you think it looks cute and amusing on him, and often you wonder if it consumes him, if he allows it to lead his thoughts astray.

(it was so easy to fall for you—he couldn’t blame others for doing the same. and if you ended up leaving him for someone else then—well. sunghoon tries to stop it before he gets to that point.)

"hoon," you call gently, and he physically softens at the nickname. you wonder how one word can mean so many things—my love, my heart, my home. all yours. "you know i love you, right?"

he flushes at the sudden confession, ears turning scarlet. and then quietly, sincerely, he mumbles, “i love you too.” perhaps that’s the secret, the reason you can be so flippant about everything, suspiciously free coffee and all.

at the end of the end of the day, you’ll always be his, too.

[sweet-villain]

Finish the Song~ Eddie Munson ~

Author's Note : I am just writing here, and have no idea where I going honestly. But it flows and hope you like it!

Angst

Eddie stood frozen on the fringe of the living room, his gaze riveted on you and Steve. Laughter erupted between you two, a sound that twisted like a knife in his gut. He squinted, just in time to see Steve lean in, his arm draping casually over your shoulders.

“What the hell?” Eddie muttered, his grip on the red cup tightening to the point of crumpling it.

With a decisive huff, he glanced around the room and spotted Chrissy Cunningham. Why not, right? “Hey, Chrissy!” he called, waving her over.

“What’s up, Eddie?” she chimed, her smile bright as fairy lights hanging from the ceiling.

“Wanna hang out?” He slipped his arm around her waist, the gesture feeling foreign yet strangely exhilarating. Just as his eyes caught yours, he saluted you with a smirk.

You caught the smile—flirting, no doubt. And just like that, the pang in his chest blossomed into a challenge.

“Stop worrying over him,” Steve said, his voice cutting through the noise.

“I’m not,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

Steve snorted, amusement flickering across his face. “You should tell him how you feel. The breakup was a mistake.”

“He will never forgive me,” you murmured, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your sweater, the din of the party swirling around, amplifying your discomfort.

Eddie’s heart sank. So she still cared. The game was just getting started.

Quiet laughter bubbled up from a nearby group of partygoers, their revelry casting a haze over the room. Eddie levered closer to Chrissy, every chuckle and cheer echoing like thunder in his ears, competing with the pitiful thud of his heart.

“C’mon,” he said to Chrissy, holding his cup aloft. “Let’s grab a drink. Nothing like a party to take your mind off things, right?”

“Sure!” she chirped, her enthusiasm infectious as she beamed up at him.

As they walked towards the makeshift bar in the corner, Eddie couldn’t help but glance back at you.

You stood there, leaning slightly against the wall, your laughter ming ling with the pulsating beats of the music, but your eyes had a distant look—hope tinged with uncertainty.

“Here you go,” Eddie said, pouring himself another cup from a bottle of cheap beer. It fizzed and bubb led over the rim—a tiny explosion in his hand. He didn’t care; he was on a mission.

Turning back to Chrissy, he leaned in closer, the warmth of her body against his side igniting something reckless within him. “So , how’s it going with the cheer squad?”

“Oh, you know,” Chrissy said, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder, her smile bright and unfiltered. “Just the usual—lots of practices, but I’m pretty sure we are going to win this year’s championship.”

Eddie chuckled, the sound coming easily as he studied her. “You’ve always been a champ. I bet it’s hard to keep all those stuck-up girls in line, huh?”

Cocking her head, Chrissy laughed, a melodic tinkle that made his pulse quicken. “It’s a challenge, for sure, but they mean well. Besides, it’s nice to have you around as a fan.” She shot him a playful wink, which only fueled his bravado.

“Always your biggest fan, Chrissy,” he said, leaning in with feigned seriousness. “In fact, I think I might need an exclusive meet-and-greet after all those championships. “Fancy,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow. “I’ll hold you to that, Munson.”

Eddie barely registered the laughter and chatter around him, too focused on the way her smile lit up against the chaotic backdrop of the party. But once again, he felt the weight of your gaze. You were standing with Steve, a bubble of conversation that felt too intimate, too careless for his liking.

“Hey, you okay?” Chrissy asked, her voice interrupted by a laugh from the group, pulling his attention back to her. She’d cocked her head, concern etching her delicate features.

“Just fine,” Eddie reassured, forcing a grin that felt unsteady on his lips. “Just keeping busy with you, right?”

You were leaning against the wall, half-turned toward Steve, and he caught a glimpse of the way your eyes sparkled, even while your mouth quirked into a frown as you caught another glimpse of him and Chrissy together. He felt a strange thrill at the thought—if you were watching, then this game was far from over.

“Eddie! Come on!” one of his friends shouted from the other side of the room, interrupting his thoughts. They waved him over, their voices blurring into an unrecognizable haze of excitement and alcohol. He momentarily considered the risk of abandoning Chrissy, but the challenge of holding your attention drew him back to the edge of the chaos.

“Hey, it looks like they need you!” Chrissy said, her voice bright with encouragement. “Go on, I’ll be right here.”

Eddie hesitated, his gaze flickering back to you and Steve. You were mid-conversation, but his mind fixated on the laughter you shared—was it genuine? Or was it simply a façade?

“Yeah, I just—” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at Chr issy, who was watching him with curious eyes. “I’ll just be a second.”

“Go,” she urged, laughter still in her voice.

With a nod, he pushed away from her side, weaving through the crowd. His heart raced as he navigated the throng of bodies until he stood across from you and Steve. Your laughter danced on the air, sweet yet taunting. Eddie’s jaw tightened, his fingers itching to grab your attention.

Instead, he tried to focus on Steve.

“Hey!” Eddie called out, forcing a grin. “Harrington! You still winning at this whole... pretty boy act?”

Steve’s brow quirked, clearly amused.

“Always, Munson. Just keeping the charm alive, you know? Unlike you, who seems desperate for attention.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, and Eddie felt the warmth of jealousy briefly flicker into something nearer to rage. “Yeah, because you’re the poster boy for relationship advice,” he shot back, nodding sarcastically at Steve. “What did you do? Read ‘How to Sweep a Girl Off Her Feet’ this morning?”

Steve smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Funny how you’re the one talking about relationships, Eddie. Last I checked, you were throwing yours away.”

Eddie’s heart raced; the jab cut deeper than intended. He turned to you, hoping to catch a flicker of annoyance or disbelief in your eyes, but instead, you faced Steve with playful defiance written across your expression. 

Well, Eddie's fingers drummed against the plastic cup, his heart racing at the sight of your unwavering confidence. It only stoked his frustration.

"Whatever," you shot back, tossing your hair over your shoulder, eyes narrowing.

"My decisions are mine, and I'll figure out what I want."

Eddie clenched his jaw, his next words caught in his throat. After a moment, he managed to say, "Sure, if you want to keep pretending to be okay."

“Pretending?” You shot back, eyes flashing. “How about you stop playing games for once? You’re the one bouncing from one party to another while I’m—” “—trying to move on?” Eddie interrupted, frustration bubbling over as he stepped closer. “Or maybe you’re just trying to make me jealous?”

Your eyes narrowed, reflecting the dim light like shards of glass. 

“Jealous? You think this is about you?” You stepped back, arms crossing defensively.

“Every move you make seems like a jab at me,” Eddie shot back, his voice low yet laced with intensity. “Just to prove what? That you can bounce back?”

“Yeah, because it’s so easy for me,” you snapped, sarcasm cutting through your voice as you glared at him. “I’m just here pretending like it doesn’t hurt.”

Eddie clenched his jaw, the air thick with tension. 

"I'm not the one pretending," Eddie countered, eyes narrowing, a storm brewing behind them. “You think I’m out here enjoying myself when all I see is you moving on without a second thought?”

A beat of silence stretched between you, heavy and taut, like a wire ready to snap. 

“Moving on?” you echoed, incredulity lacing your words. “Eddie, you’re the one who decided this was better!"

Eddie’s heart raced as the weight of your accusation settled between you like a loaded gun. 

“Yeah, because you couldn’t stand to put up with my chaos,” he spat, each word dripping with bitterness.

“Chaos? Is that what you call it?” Your voice rose, each syllable sharp as glass. “You think it was just about you jamming with your band or selling that crap? It felt like I was living in the shadows.”

Eddie's shoulders dropped, and the heat in his chest flared. “Living in the shadows?” He stepped closer, the edge in his voice sharp. “You had a front row seat to the whole damn thing. “Your front row was the last row, Eddie,” you shot back, your voice steady but your breath quickening. “You don’t get to play the victim here when you constantly chose everything over us.”

“Everything over us?” Eddie echoed, incredulity twisting in his gut. He felt the heat of the party around him, the pulsating music fading into a dull hum. “You think I wanted things to end like this? Between us?"

Your expression wavered for just a moment before solidifying into determination. “You made your choices, Eddie. I was there, waiting on the sidelines when you were out working on your campaigns, jamming until dawn, or getting high? "

“Getting high, playing the role,” he shot back, frustration pounding in his ears. “That’s all I ever was to you?”

“Hardly,” you snapped, eyes glimmering with fierce defiance. “You weren’t just a role; you were a promise, Eddie. A promise that never quite made it past the smoke and mirrors.”

he crowd swirled aroundyou, bodies moving in chaotic rhythm, but the world reduced to the two of you, locked in a battle of hurt and anger. 

“Smoke and mirrors?” Eddie’s voice cracked, a palpable mix of disbelief and sorrow hanging in the air.

"Yeah," you said, breathless, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. "You sold me the dream, Eddie, but you left it unfinished. Always running, always too busy for anything real."

His expression darkened,a storm brewing behind the intensity of his gaze. “You think I chose this? Those nights, those laughs—they were real, and I thought you knew it!”

“Then what was it?” you challenged, your tone faltering for only a moment. “Do you even know what we had? Or were those moments just a game to you?” 

Eddie stepped closer, fists trembling at his sides. The tension crackled between you, palpable and raw. He shook his head slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion and frustration.

“Damn it, you think it was just a game? How could you even say that?” He ran a handthrough his tangled hair, the gesture a mix of desperation and helplessness. 

“Because you played all the right notes but left the melody hanging,” you replied, your voice raw yet steady. “I was a verse in your song, and you never finished the chorus.”

Eddie’s breath caught, the truth of your words slammed against him like a wave crashing onto shore. He swallowed hard, the silence stretching taut between you, filled with everything unsaid. The music thumped in the background, a heart pulsing irregularly, while the weight of your gaze pressed against his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. 

Eddie clenched his fists, resisting the urge to turn away. Instead, he held your stare, wrestling with the plethora of emotions crashing like waves within him

“Eddie,” you whispered, the softness in your voice surprising him, shattering the tension. “All I wanted was for you to meet me halfway. To not feel like I was chasing shadows.”

Eddie’s breath caught, the words hanging in the air like smoke, mingling with the remnants of heartbreak and anger. He hesitated, searching your eyes for understanding, a flicker of the connection he longed to reclaim.

“This... this isn’t what I wanted,” Eddie finally murmured, his voice barely audible over the music, thick with vulnerability. “I thought you’d—”

“That I’d what?” You crossed your arms again, clearly bracing for more. “Stick around like a trophy?” 

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “No! I thought you’d understand. I thought—”

“Thought what,you could keep juggling everything while I waited in the sidelines?” Your voice shook, a tremor betraying the strength you tried to project. “You don’t get to play that card when you’ve left me in the dark for so long.”

Eddie’s fists unclenched, the realization cutting deeper than any rebuke. The silence stretched again, the crowded room buzzing at the edges, the laughter of others swirling into an indistinguishable backdrop. He resisted the urge to look away,staring you down, determination flickering in his chest. 

“Look, I was caught up,” he finally replied, the words rushed. “You think I enjoyed being away? You think I meant to leave you behind?”

You took a step back, eyes narrowing. “You had a choice, Eddie. You could’ve shifted your priorities. But you didn’t,” you fired back, anger pooling in your belly. Each word felt like a spark igniting the already simmering tension. 

A moment hung between you, thick with unspoken truths and the hurt buried beneath the surface. Eddie’s heart hammered against his ribcage, the rapid tempo matching the chaotic beat of the party surrounding you.

“Fine!” heshouted, frustration erupting from him like a burst of fireworks. “I messed up! I was too wrapped up in everything—campaigns, the band, trying to chase some dream! I thought you’d stick around. I thought I’dget it together before I lost you.”

Your expression shifted—a flicker of hurt before the walls went back up. “And look where that got us. This... whatever this is,” you gestured wildly, frustration etched in every line of your face, “it’s a mess, Eddie. A portrait of missed chances and empty promises.”

Eddie clenched his jaw, the anger curling in his chest like smoke. It burned, a persistent ache layered beneath layers of hurt and betrayal. 

“Just because it's a mess doesn’t mean we can’t try to fix it,” Eddie said, his voice raw but filled with urgency. Each word felt both heavy and electric, a desperate plea rising from somewhere deep within him.

You shook your headboth heavy and electric, a desperate plea rising from somewhere deep within him.

You shook your head. “Fix it? Eddie, that’s just it. How many times do we keep going in circles, trying to bandage something that's torn?” 

Eddie’s chest tightened, the truth behind your words heavy like a weight around his heart. “I’ll do better. I can be better. Just—just give me a chance,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with a desperation he seldom allowed to surface, vulnerability clawing at his throat.

You lowered your gaze, the flickering lights casting shadows across your features. The room buzzed around you, a distorted carnival of laughter and music that felt miles away from the intimate confrontation. 

Your silence hung between you like a thick fog, stifling, almost suffocating. Eddie shifted his weight, desperate to study your face, to catch a glimpse of that flicker of hope he thought he’d seen earlier. “Say something“Say something,” he urged, his voice now quiet, almost a plea. “Please.”

Your silence deepened, a chasm forming between what was once filled with laughter and warmth.

You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, and fora moment, he thought you might just shift your gaze back to him. But the weight of those unspoken words hung heavier than the tension in the air, more suffocating than the swirling party crowd around you.

“I don’t know, Eddie“I don’t know, Eddie.” Your voice trembled, thick with the weight of uncertainty. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Keep hoping for something that feels more like a dream than reality.”

His heart sank, every beatfeeling like a drum echoing in the hollow space between you. 

“Maybe… maybe I don’t deserve what I want. It just feels so far away.” Eddie’s voice cracked, raw and open, bared before you like a wound that refused to heal.

“It shouldn’t have to be this way,” you whispered, a tremor in your voice reflecting the unease that pooled like quicksand. “We could have made it work. Could have fought for something real instead of floatingin the limbo of what-ifs.”

The words clung to the air, heavy with regret and longing, as Eddie’s gaze dropped to the floor. The pulsating thud of music faded into a dull thrum behind the silence that enveloped the two of you.

“I wanted it to be real,” Eddie finally said, his voice steady yet fragile, a whisper that hung between the chaos of the party. He met your eyes, the raw honesty shimmering in the depths of his gaze.

“I wanted it to be real,” Eddie finally said, his voice steady yet fragile, a whisper that hung between the chaos of the party. He met your eyes, the raw honesty shimmering in the depths of his gaze.

You searched his face, a storm of emotions cascading through you. The pain of the past coiled tightly around your heart, while a flicker of something unnameable sparked in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Then finish the song, Eddie,” you whispered your voicebarely audible, yet it echoed in his chest like the last note of a cherished melody. 

Eddie stepped forward, the distance between you almost vanishing. “I can’t do this without you,” he admitted, a thread of vulnerability weaving through his words, raw and unguarded. The air shimmered with tension, every beat of his heart loud and clear against the weight of your silence. 

“You don’t get to put that on me,” you said, shaking your head slowly as if each denial cracked a little louder against the backdrop of the party’s cacophony. 

“Why not?” Eddie pressed, desperation clawing at his throat. “I’m here, aren’t I? Wanting to make things right.”

Your eyes flickered between anger and vulnerability, the turmoil beneath the surface evident. "Wanting to make things right?" you scoffed, your voice dripping with incredulity. "You only want that now when you see me slipping away."

Eddie's chest tightened, each word you uttered hitting him like a punch to the gut. “No! That’s not fair. I didn’t realize what you meant to me until it started to slip through my fingers."

"That's not fair,” Eddie said, desperation clawing at the edge of his voice. “I didn’t realize what you meant to me until it started to slip through my fingers.”

“Please,” Eddie murmured, every syllable soaked in urgency. “I was caught up in everything, convinced that juggling all of it would prove something—like I could have it all, but I can’t. Not without you.”

“This isn’t just about you, Eddie. It’s about us. It always was,” you replied, your voice quiet, yet the intensity radiated like a beacon in

Your breath hitched at his words, the air between you thick with unshed tears and so many moments lost. “And I waited,” you replied, your voice trembling as you tried to keep the edge of emotion at bay. “I waited, thinking you’d wake up one day and see that I was still here, still wanting you.”

Eddie’s throat tightened, his heart aching at the vulnerabilityof your voice. Each syllable pulled at him, echoing in the silence of the moment.

“I thought you’d understand,” he whispered, each word a confession, laden with regret. “I thought I had more time.”

“Time?” youstared at him, disbelief flooding your features. “You think we have an endless supply of time? Every moment felt like you were slipping away, and I was holding my breath, waiting for you to decide I mattered.”

Eddie’s heart sunkas the weight of your words settled in the space between you. He could almost feel the ground shifting beneath his feet.

“I never meant for you to feel insignificant,” he said, the earnestness in his voice struggling to rise above the chaos of the party that raged on around you. 

“Then prove it,” you challenged, resolve hardening in your tone. Your eyes locked on his, a silent demand hanging heavy in the air. “Show me you can be there—actually be there for me.”

The weight of your words crushed him. Eddie searched for the right response, the one that would spill from his heart with sincerity. But all he found were fragments of regret, scattered like shattered glass across the moment.

“I can be there,” he insisted, uncertainty threading through his voice yet anchoring it in truth. “But you have to believe me. Just let me show you.” 

Your gaze held him captive, a fierce determination mingling with doubt. “Your gaze held him captive, a fierce determination mingling with doubt. 

“Show me,” you finally said, your voice steady yet sharp. “Let me see you put in the work. Otherwise, it’s just another empty promise.” 

Eddie’s heart raced, the challenge igniting a defiance within him that he didn’t know he still possessed. 

“Then I’ll make it a real promise,” he declared, each word steadying him against the storm of uncertainty swirling around them. 

“Don’t just say it, prove it,” you challenged, your gaze unwavering, determined yet fractured. “Words are meaningless without actions.” 

He felt the appeal of your challenge ignite a fire in his chest, a pang of purpose that surged through him. Eddie drew a deep breath, drowning out the raucous laughter beyond the bathroom door, honing in on you standing before him—vulnerable, yet fierce.

“Then give me a chance,” Eddie said, voice steady, the words hanging in the air like an open invitation. 

Your eyes, fierce with determination, softened slightly, but the edge remained. “A chance at what? Another cycle of waiting

for something that may never come?”

Eddie instinctively stepped closer, closing the gap as uncertainty danced like a shadow between you. “No. Not waiting, but moving forward.” The sincerity in his voice demanded trust, a fragile bridge over a chasm of uncertainty.

Your gaze flickered, wavering between skepticism and a glint of hope. “Moving forward? What does that mean for us?” 

Eddie clenched his fists, desperate to gather the right words. “I don’t know yet, but I do know that I want to figure it out together. Nothing can change if we're not in this as a team, if we’re not willing to let go of the hurt and build something back.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, still cautious, but Eddie thought he detected a hint of something more in their depths—perhaps curiosity, maybe a flicker of that old warmth. 

“Build what back?” you asked, voice steady but probing, like you

were assessing the strength of the steel in his resolve.

“Build us back.” Eddie’s voice trembled with urgency, each word a fragile thread reaching across the abyss. “A real connection, where it’s not just you waiting for me to show up when I had time or felt like it.” 

Your expression softened just a fraction, allowing a glimmer of vulnerability to breach the walls you had built around yourself. 

“God, Eddie,” you said, your voice almost a whisper, ““God, Eddie,” you said, your voice almost a whisper, the weight of the moment settling around you both like a thick fog. “It’s not just about the time. It's about trust. It's about believing that you want this just as much as I do.”

Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, the gravity of your words resonating deeply. “I want this,” he breathed, the intensity of his gaze unwavering, searching yours for a sign that you could see his sincerity burning into the hollow spaces between you. 

“I want you to believe me,” he continued, his heart pounding in rhythm with the party’s pulse that thrummed around you. “It’s not just words this time. I’m done pretending everything is okay."

“Then show me,” you replied, your voice firm yet gentle, courage weaving through the hesitation. “Show me you really want this—no more empty promises or half-measures.”

Eddie nodded, hearthammering against his ribs. 

“Okay,” he whispered, each word carved with fresh intent. “I’ll show you. But it’s going to take time.” 

“Time,” you echoed, a flicker of skepticism crossing your face.

Time,” you echoed, a flicker of skepticism crossing your face. 

“Time,” he repeated, a vow wrapped in sincerity. “But I won’t waste it. I’ll prove—I can prove that you mean more than all those distractions

that consumed me.”

Your eyes softened, the tension still crackling but laced now with a tentative hope. “Eddie, actions matter. I need to see that you mean it.”

He took a step closer, his pulse racing. “Then let’s start now,” he said, urgency lacing his voice. “I want to make things right, even if it’s just a single step.”

You hesitated, the weight of your own uncertainty reflected in your eyes. “What does that look like?” you asked, vulnerability creeping into your voice. The moment felt fragile, as if a single misplaced word could shatter everything you’d just built together.

Eddie took a breath, grounding himself in the moment. “It starts with honesty and vulnerability. I won’t hide in the shadows anymore. You deserve better than that.”

You studied him, weighing his resolve in the light of your own doubts. “Honesty?” you replied, one brow arched. “How do I know you won’t slide back into the game again, Eddie? How do I know you’ll actually mean it this time?”

The air between you hummed with an intensity that thrummed against your skin. Eddie swallowed hard, a raw tangle of emotions reeling within him. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms to ground himself in the moment.

“I’ll show you,” he stated, the words falling from his lips like a promise. “No more hiding, no more games or distractions. Just me. Just us.”

You inhaled deeply, the tension still wrapped tightly around you both, yet something in your gaze softened. “Words won’t mean a thing if they don’t come with action, Eddie,” you replied,

your voice steady. “I need to see you confront the chaos. Not just with promises but with your choices.”

Eddie felt the weight of your words settle deep within him, an anchor in turbulent waters. “Then I’ll show you,” he declared, his resolve hardening with each pulse of uncertainty that rippled through the air. He took a step closer, the tension between you charging the space like static electricity.

The thudding bass from the music faded into the background as his gaze locked onto yours, the world around you blurring into a whirl. Eddie leaned in, trembling with anticipation, and let himself be vulnerable, the chaos seeming to still in the air

“I’m done wandering. You’re right; I’ve been too caught up in everything else. All the noise, the distractions. I want to tune in to what matters, and that’s you.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words wrapping around you like a soft embrace. The flickering lights of the room blurred as Eddie’s sincerity sank in, resonating deeply in the quiet corners of your heart. You searched his eyes for any hint of deception, any sign that this was just another play in his game, but all you found were unguarded vulnerability and an aching desire for connection. 

“You’ll really do this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The throbbing music faded, distant and dim compared to the storm building in your chest.

Eddie nodded, sincerityradiating from him like heat waves. “I will,” he insisted, voice steady. “No more hiding. No more pretending. Just... us. The way it should be.”

For a fleeting moment, the buzz of the party dissolved, leavingboth of you suspended in a world that felt untouched by the chaos around. Time seemed to fold in upon itself—every heartbeat loud as a drum, echoing loudly in the cavernous silence you created.

“Okay.” A breathless whisper slipped from your lips, the word barely above a sigh. For a brief moment, all the noise of the party faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, tethered together by a fragile thread of hope.

The moment lingered, heavy and electric, as you both stood just inches apart. Eddie’s heart pounded loud enough to drown out the muffled music, each beat a reminder of what lay before you both—a potential rekindling of connection fragile yet vibrant, like a spark in the darkness of your tangled past.

Eddie broke the silence first, his voice a low murmur, laden with sincerity. “I just need time to prove it to you. But I will. No

Your heart raced at his words, each syllable threading through the air like a lifeline, pulling you back from the precipice of loss. You hesitated, allowing the moment to settle, weighing the weight of what this commitment might mean.

““Time,” you repeated, the word resting like a fragile bird in your chest. “It’s a powerful thing. But what if that time slips away again?” The vulnerability lay bare in your eyes, each flicker a question yet to be answered Eddie leaned in, the distance between you closing into a mere breath. “Then I’ll chase it down,” he asserted, the strength of his conviction shaking off remnants of doubt. “Every second, I’ll show up for you, for us I’ll fight for every moment, every chance to make it right.”

Your breath caught, a flicker of hope igniting within you, tempered by the shadows of uncertainty that still lurked in the corners of your heart. “And what if...the fight isn’t enough?” you breathed, the gravity of the question hanging between you. Doubt clung to your voice, but beneath it lay a flicker of longing, a desperate yearning for something real.

Eddie’s expression softened,as if he could sense the storm brewing within you. “Then I’ll fight harder,” he vowed, the weight of his sincerity pressing against the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

that I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that you matter more than any of it.” 

The sincerity in his eyes swelled the space between you, yet the lingering uncertainty remained, clinging like a shadow. You searched his gaze for the truth—a flicker of hope nestled deep within, just waiting for the right moment to shine. 

“Eddie,” you breathed, narrowing your eyes slightly as if trying to peel back the layers he shielded. “This isn’t just about promises.It’s about trust. You can’t just say the words; you have to show me that you mean every single one. Actions. That’s what I need.”

Eddie nodded, determination hardening his features. “I get it. You need proof.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself against the weight of your gaze, which felt like a spotlight dissecting every shadow within him. “Then let me start now.”

You narrowed your eyes, testing the conviction in his voice. “Prove it, Eddie. Show me you’re willing to be present, not just in words, but in actions.”

Eddie’s heart raced, pulse thuddingin his ears as he searched for the right response. The room around them pulsed with energy, but all he could focus on was you, the intensity of your gaze unwavering and fierce. 

“Okay,” he said, his voice steady. “Okay,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll start by being here. Right now. I won’t brush this off like it’s another party trick.”

You narrowed your eyes, gauging the determination etched on his face. “Being here is one thing, Eddie. But I need more than just your body in the room. I need your heart in it, too.”

Eddie took a step closer “Then I’m all in,” he declared, his voice unwavering as he closed the distance between you. “No more half-hearted attempts. Just me—fully here, fully yours.”

[monstersandmaw]

Monthly story - male bat-like forest monster x male character (nsfw)

This one was a really sweet one to write, though as ever, it's about 10k words longer than I intended. I hope you enjoy these two and the autumnal forest vibes. There are also a couple of tiny little Gabe & Odessa easter eggs in there, if you spot them...

Summary: a heartsick author books a remote fire lookout tower for some solitude after a messy breakup, and for the chance to finish his latest novel, only to fall slowly in love with a voice over the radio.

Content (light spoilers): stormy conditions, then lost while hiking, forest entity attacks with constricting vines (not romantic interest). Nsfw includes oral, no penetrative, messy sex, come marking(?), and there's some purring too.

Wordcount: 13,238

(for the tower lookout vibes, this reddit link should help)

Preview:

“You’re renting a what?” Lavinia snorted, setting down her coffee cup with a clunk and gawping at Bowen like he’d just grown another head. Or maybe like he’d lost the one he’d had to begin with.

“I’m renting an old fire lookout in the Pinewatch Range for a month.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” she blurted. “Seriously, I know the breakup with Mike fucked with your head, and with good fucking reason because the man is a complete —”

“— it’s not about the breakup, Lav,” Bowen interjected heavily, taking a sip of his own drink and wincing. Instead of his usual coffee, he’d opted for a remarkably bland chamomile tea, and was regretting it enormously. “It’s just… I’ve been wanting to work on my novel. I think a place with no electricity other than a solar panel to charge my phone and radio, and no running water, is going to suit me just fine.”

“No running water?” Lavinia looked truly horrified at that. “Seriously? How are you gonna shower? And, like… flush the toilet? Oh my god, don’t tell me you have to shit in the woods…”

At that, Bowen bit back a rare, true laugh. “There’s a composting toilet in an outhouse. It’s not like I’m turning into a bear.”

She eyed Bowen’s gut, which was just a little softer than it had once been, and raised one eyebrow. “Sweetheart, if you put on a red flannel shirt and grew that thick scruff out into a proper beard, you’d be the definition of a bear.”

He rolled his cocoa-brown eyes at her and leaned back in the farmhouse style chair, gazing around at the new coffee shop that had opened up on North Street. Lavinia looked out of place in the cutesy, rustic tea room, but as usual, she paid her surroundings little mind. Instead, she regarded him from under her heavy, Goth makeup, with a back-combed bird’s nest of box dyed, black hair piled atop her head. Behind the dramatic makeup and the false eyelashes that looked like the kind of spiders Bowen only found in the deepest recesses of his basement, he could see real concern in her features,and his heart squeezed. He’d isolated himself too much from his friend in the past six months, and now he was running away to the wilderness.

He leaned forwards, just catching the creak of the rattan beneath his jeans above the clatter of the cafe as the chair shifted and groaned a little, and he rested his weight on his forearms. “Honestly, this will be good for me, Lav. I need to unplug for a while.”

“I’m just worried you’re not gonna be able to plug back in afterwards,” she muttered darkly. “I take it you don’t get phone reception out there?”

He shook his head. “Nope. There’s a radio that connects you to the forest service in an emergency, and there are a few other old lookout towers in the area, but unless there’s a very lost hiker, I won’t see another soul for the whole month.”

“Jesus,” she hissed. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. And if I come across Mike in the meantime, I’ll hex his bollocks off and make him rue the day he dumped you.”

“You already did that.”

Something flashed in her eyes. “I made him rue the day he dumped you, but it was sweet little ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt’ Hazel that hexed him.”

Bowen rolled his eyes and chuckled fondly. “You and all that witchy shit, Lav. Ever since you watched The Craft in high school…”

Easy-going Bowen had always respectfully humoured his best friend’s interest and belief in the Occult, but he’d never subscribed to anything spooky himself. The spookiest thing that had ever happened to him was a traffic light going from red to green as he approached it. Hardly cause to call the Ghostbusters in, after all.

At first, he’d thought Lav had been joking, or just using some affectionate name for the group of people who had all met after class and at the weekends, calling them ‘her coven’, but over the course of their university degree, and the subsequent years of employment, he’d come to discover they all actually believed in the supernatural. Then again, Mike’s apartment had flooded the week after he’d ditched Bowen, and his had been the only one to suffer any damage. There was now some lingering problem with a particularly stubborn and rather toxic mould all over the ceilings, according to Lavinia’s mystical sources…

“Just promise me you’ll take good care of yourself, and you’ll fucking phone me the second you get back to civilisation,” she growled, and he solemnly promised with hand on heart to keep her updated when he could.

A week later, Bowen’s pickup bounced up the rutted track to the fire lookout station, with a fortnight’s worth of water and camping supplies lashed down in the bed. The nearest town of Pinewatch was a jolting, twenty mile trip down dirt roads before even reaching the main, tarmac road to get there, so he’d be using the truck for a resupply run in a couple of weeks, but until then, he figured he had everything he needed. At least, he hoped he did.

Read the whole thing on Patreon, plus gain access to every monthly story so far and join our chilled out Discord server here!

[scrollonso]

Watch It — Pedroscar

"Not fucking happening."

Pedro chuckled, glancing at Oscar. "Hey, watch the language. No cuss words, remember?"

Oscar rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Seriously, Pedro? You’re really gonna nag me about that right now?"

Pedro shrugged, still in a lighthearted mood. "Just keeping you in check."

Oscar huffed, folding his arms. "Maybe you should worry about something else for once."

Pedro’s expression shifted, the joking tone fading. "Osc, what’s with the attitude?"

Oscar glared back at him. "Why the hell do you care? Just drop it."

Pedro’s voice grew firmer. "I’m not going to just drop it. What’s going on with you?"

Oscar clenched his jaw, refusing to answer.

Pedro stepped a little closer, his tone serious now. "Watch your mouth, okay?"

Oscar stared at Pedro, the tension between them thick. "Fuck off"

And then Pedro knew exactly what Oscar was doing.

He stepped forward, crowding right into Oscar's space and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back so the Aussie was kneeling slightly, having to look at him as he towered over his boyfriend.

"Do as I fucking say, Oscar," he said, voice dangerously low.

Oscar stared back up at him, defiant expression betrayed by the clear excitement in his eyes. "Make me."

"Nasty little thing," he spat, pulling harshly on Oscar's hair again and leaning down over him. "Listen, because I'm only going to say this once. I'm going to go speak to Zak Brown, since you've given up your only chance to act right, and you are going to take your ass home, undress except your boxers, and you're going to wait for me like that. And you are not to touch yourself, and you know that I will know if you have, you fucking hear me?"

Oscar visibly shivered at the hard edge in Pedro's voice. "Fine."

"Can I say- " Pedro put a hand at the base of Oscar's throat, a shadow of a hold with just enough pressure that he could tell the driver was getting wet in his trousers over it. "Do as I say. Go."

He let go of Oscar's hair and neck at the same time, unable to resist the urge to give him a sharp little spank as he turned to walk away. Oscar glared at him, feigning indignation, and stalked out of the room, leaving Pedro alone with his now extremely tight trousers to think over exactly how he was going to put Oscar in his place when he got home. The Aussie was going to enjoy this more than he would community service.

Half an hour later, Oscar was laid out on their bed exactly as Pedro had told him to be, wearing nothing but Pedro's favorite pair of boxer briefs that Oscar had stolen out of his drawer just for this occasion, knowing that having taken something of Pedro's without asking would be extra cause for punishment.

He rubbed at himself impatiently through the fabric, his thoughts on how Pedro would react once he got home — how rough the Spaniard would hopefully be with him considering how he was acting.

Oscar closed his eyes and sighed; he was hard and dripping wet, leaving a spot he knew Pedro would see as soon as he looked at them when he got home. He'd been dying for this since the day they'd talked about doing it and had decided that morning that he couldn't wait any longer. A flutter of anticipation rippled through him just knowing he had broken rules — serious or not — on purpose and that he was about to get caught and punished for it. He rubbed himself a little harder, just to make sure the wet spot would be nice and visible.

After what felt like hours — but was only about ten more minutes — he heard Pedro's keys scraping in the lock and the front door opening. He sat up on the bed, trying to arrange himself to look both sexy and defiant.

He settled for leaning back against the pillows with his legs closed and bent to one side, hiding the damp spot he knew had appeared by now.

Pedro was apparently feeling just as impatient as he was, as he was quickly striding into the room, boots and jacket still on.

He looked Oscar up and down, gaze both scrutinizing and hungry. "Why're you sitting like that? What're you hiding?" He said, eyes focused on Oscar's crotch as he quickly pulled his — Oscar's — jacket off. "Couldn't stay out of my drawers either; nasty. You've been wearin' those all day, haven't you? Just takin' my things without asking?"

Oscad pulled his bitchiest face and refused to say anything, throbbing as Pedro pulled his boots off, sacrificing grace for speed. "Disobedient. Spread your legs."

Oscar huffed a sigh, keeping his legs together as he extended them back out in front of himself.

"That wasn't a suggestion, Piastri," Pedro said, standing firmly at the end of the bed with his arms crossed. "Legs. Open. Now"

Oscar's expression flickered as he felt a flare of deep-seated desire to be punished and finally, bitchy face back in place, he spread his legs out wide, putting the wet spot he'd intentionally rubbed into the fabric on display.

"Called you disobedient too soon," Pedro said, walking around one side of the bed and bending over him to look more closely at it. He pressed a firm hand onto the inside of Oscar's thigh to hold him open wider, using his other to touch the wet spot, shaking his head.

"Little brat can't keep his hands to himself, gonna have to restrain them for him," he said, opening up the drawer of the beside table and pulling out a small box.

Oscar held his breath as Pedro took the lid off; they'd ordered this together but he'd promised not to look until they were using it. He let out a breath and felt himself pulsate as Pedro took out the black leather collar, thick silver chain, and two leather cuffs held together by a thinner chain.

Pedro picked up the collar and inspected it for a moment, looking down at it with enormous smugness before flicking his eyes up to Oscar. "On," he said, turning it so that Oscar could see the back, which in large gold metal letters read 'Pedro's.'

Using all of his self control not to moan like a whore at being told to put on a collar with his boyfriend's name on it, Oscar stared right back at Pedro as he took the leather and placed it around his neck.

"Thats fucking right," Pedro said, self-satisfaction dripping off every syllable like molasses. He grabbed each ring at the end of the collar and jerked Oscar forward with them. "Now put the chain in," he said, nodding at the thick chain on the bed between them.

"Hmph," Oscar spat as if he didn't want to. He kept staring defiantly up at him as he picked the chain up, fumbling slightly as he threaded it through the two metal rings, leaving each end to dangle freely.

Pedro released the collar, trailing his fingers down either side of the chain and taking each of the clasps in one hand as he reached the bottom. He stared Oscar down for a silent moment before giving the chain a short, sharp tug, forcing the collar to tighten.

Oscar couldn't help it, he gasped at the sudden light pressure around his throat, throbbing at the feeling of giving Pedro so much control over him. He let out just a hint of a whine when Pedro hooked a finger under his chin, tilting his head further up while he looked down his nose at him.

"Begging to be broken," he said, accent infecting his words in the way that never failed to get Oscar soaking in his pants. He loosened his grip on the chain as he picked up the cuffs, letting them hang off one finger and holding them out to Oscar. "On."

Oscar hesitated for a second before snatching the cuffs up, the thin chain connecting them just long enough that he was able to get them both on himself. His breaths came quick and shallow as Pedro took his time clipping each end of the heavier chain onto one of the handcuffs, securing them so that any downward pull of Oscar's hands would force the collar tighter around his throat.

"There we go," he said, pulling at the section of the chain at the collar, loosening it while forcing Pedro's hands up towards his neck. "Restrained like you fucking deserve. Come sit on the edge of the mattress."

With a huff and an eye roll, Oscar scooted to the edge of the bed, holding his hands stiffly in front of his chest to keep the collar loose. He kept his face carefully arranged in a careless sneer while Pedro reached back into the still open drawer and pulled out a curved, purple vibrator with a magnet on the back. It was about two and a half inches long, like a flattened out crescent moon, and Oscar knew exactly what Pedro was going to do with it.

"Spread your legs," Pedro instructed, knocking one of Oscar's knees to the side with his own to make a point. The boy did as he was told, looking up at his boyfriend impatiently.

Pedro took his time disconnecting the magnet from the back of the vibrator, unnecessarily fidgeting with it for an extra moment before taking the toy between his first two fingers and slipping it beneath the waistband of the red boxers, chuckling when Oscar squirmed as the still-off toy rubbed along his dick. "Yeah, impatient for it, aren't you, amor?" He taunted, getting it into place and sticking the magnet on the outside of the panties to hold the toy in place. "Trust me, you got a lot more waiting to do."

"Says you," Oscar spat, hips wriggling a bit despite himself at the new friction of the toy.

Pedro slowly leaned forward until his lips were hovering over Oscar's, placing a finger on the thin chain connecting the soft handcuffs and gently pushing it down, giving Oscar just a little bit of pressure around his throat again. "Yes, Piastri," he said, all confidence and surety. "Says. Me."

Oscar let out the smallest hint of a whine; he absolutely refused to break this early on.

Pedro breathed a laugh. "That's right, good and ready to be punished. Nasty thing." He leaned back, picking up the small clicker control for the vibrator. "You'll get what you deserve when I say so."

Oscar feigned a small struggle against his restraints, impatient and acting like he wanted to take control back from Pedro.

"You alright?" Pedro said, giving Oscar a more meaningful look.

Oscar nodded, face open and sincere. "Yes, definitely."

Pedro nodded back, holding the control for the vibe up. "Good," he said, giving the button a slow, purposeful click.

Oscar lurched forward and curled in on himself a bit; the stimulation was practically heaven after waiting for so long but fuck this was the lowest speed and they were only just getting started -

"Feels good, does it, amor?" Oscar tried to clamp his legs shut to force the toy up against himself harder but Pedro quickly moved between them, keeping them open. "Answer me, Piastri."

Oscar squirmed again, desperately rocking his hips forward to chase further friction. "Yes," he admitted, still doing his best to look defiant and like he wasn't enjoying himself too much.

"Yes, what?" Pedro prompted.

Oscar stayed silent for a beat, pushing the boundary of what if would take for more punishment.

Pedro held up the clicker again, this time as a warning. "Oscar."

"Yes, sir," Oscar said, practically spitting out the honorific as if it meant nothing to him.

"Better," Pedro said, lowering the clicker and setting it down on the bed. "Think I'll take my shirt off, hm? Bit hot in here."

Oscar watched hungrily as his boyfriend made a small production of slowly untucking his t shirt and pulling it up and off over his head, tossing it carelessly over towards the clothes hamper. "Lovely when you listen," he said, putting a finger until Oscar's chin to tilt his face up, "now I wanna see you work harder. Get yourself there for me."

"Hmph," Oscar huffed, face recalcitrant even as he did as he was told, trying to angle his hips downward to push it against himself harder.

"Good lad," he said, picking up the control again and with another click upping the speed, giving a small smile when Oscar's whole body jolted at the sudden change, hips stuttering while he smeared slick deeper into the fabric of the briefs and all over the singular ridge in the center of the vibrator.

Pedro just kept staring down his nose at him, forcing his chin up, calmly watching as his brat did exactly as he was instructed to, slipping closer and closer, hands squeezed tightly into fists still held stiffly at his pecs, collar loose around his throat. Oscar felt it coming on already; he was far more worked up than usual from the build up of being allowed to act out and knowing he would be punished for it -

"Tell me when you get close," Pedro said, cocking his head slightly to the side as he considered Oscar.

"F- fuck, I'm- I'm fucking close, you- "

With a quick raise of his hand and click of the remote Pedro shut the vibrator off. "Stop," he demanded, pulling his hand out from under Oscar's chin. The Aussie let out a loud, indignant whine, hunching forward again as he throbbed at the abrupt end to the sensation.

"Look at me," Pedro said, unbothered by Oscar's irritation.

When he saw the older man's head turn further away he knew only one thing would make him listen.

SLAP.

It practically echoed through their bedroom, the first thing he noticed on Oscar's face as he looked up was the deep red mark already lingering on his skin

"See, was that so fucking hard, bitch?" He started undoing his pants, taking a step back from the edge of the bed and the taller man. "On your knees."

Oscar took his time shuffling forward, distracted by Pedro's newly exposed bulge, and apparently that was too slow for his boyfriend, who used one fluid motion to hook his finger around the chain between the cuffs again and give it a short, sharp yank.

Oscar moaned loudly at the sudden constricting of the collar around his throat, eyes fluttering shut at the medium pressure.

"Oh that feels good, doesn't it sweetheart," Pedro said, leaning forward so that his smirk was hovering right over the gasps slipping out between Oscar's lips. "Yeah, I know what you need. You can have it if you learn how to behave like a good boy and take your punishment. What do you say? How bad do you wanna suck me off?"

He let up on the cuffs to make sure Oscar could speak comfortably. "I- I wan' it," he said, defiance in his voice weakened to a mildly protesting tone.

"How badly, amor?" Pedro let go of the cuffs entirely to put his fingertips back under Oscar's chin, softly sliding his hand down the front of his throat to toy with the slack of the heavier chain in the collar. He loved feeling larger than Oscar who — in every way — was larger than Pedro. "Good boys use their words and ask for what they want."

"I- I want it," Oscar repeated, "I want it and I want it now."

Pedro shook his head. "I'd hardly call that askin' nicely; try again, baby."

Oscar bit back a moan as he slowly pulled on the thicker chain, getting just enough tension that his bound hands started to move up towards his collar bones and the collar pulled him forward. "I want it now- sir," he whined, a mix of demanding and needy.

"Better," Pedro said. "Not perfect, but we'll get you there. Now do as I said, on your knees. Since you want it so bad," he taunted.

Glaring up at him, Oscar did as he was told and dropped off the edge of the bed onto his knees, licking his lower lip as his eyes flicked between Pedro's face and the tent his erection was making in his boxers.

"Sweet," the Spaniard teased, running his fingers through Pedro's hair. "See, you know how to behave."

"Ugh," Oscar huffed and rolled his eyes. Pedro's fingers tightened hard in his hair and brought his face forward to practically smash into his clothed hard on; Oscar moaned and opened his mouth immediately, dampening the fabric with a long, hard lick over the underside of Pedro's dick.

"Bad boy, talking back," Pedro chastised, "gonna have to fuck that rude little mouth of yours to teach you some manners."

Oscar moaned shamelessly into Pedro's cock, still mouthing at it like a popsicle through his pants; he'd been dying for Pedro's dick down his throat all day.

"Pull them down," Pedro demanded, yanking Oscar back by the hair. The older man let out a hard exhale of pleasure as his scalp burned from having his hair pulled so hard.

He reached up and pulled down Pedro's underwear, practically drooling at how heavy his cock hung in front of his face, leaning forward with an open mouth but finding himself being tugged sharply backwards by the hair again.

"What do we say when we want something?"

"Fucking give me-"

Oscar gasped and almost gagged when Pedro jammed his free thumb into his mouth and pressed down hard on his tongue. "Try again."

"Hnnggghhhhhh," Oscar whined around the hand prying his mouth open, looking up at his boyfriend with something hovering between bitchy irritation and genuine pleading.

"I said, try. again," Pedro said, forcing his head back by the hair until Oscar was looking directly up at him.

Oscar gave his first pout of the night. "Hhhleaahhhh?" he managed around Pedro's thumb.

"One more time for us, love," Pedro said, letting up on Oscar's tongue to let him talk more easily.

Oscar paused. "Pleathze?" he said more clearly.

"Much better," Pedro praised. Keeping Oscar's mouth held open for another moment, he pulled him forward and, one hand still tight in his hair, fucked almost his entire length into Oscar's mouth.

Oscar took every inch with greedy enthusiasm, straining forward further to try and get it further back into this throat.

The grip on his hair tightened, pulling hard on his scalp, and Pedro pulled his hips back ever so slightly. "You'll get more if you keep acting right," he said calmly, death grip holding his boyfriend's head in place as he started slowly fucking in and out of his mouth. "This is enough for now."

Even after as long as they'd been together Oscar still had to fight not to gag on just how big Pedro was; he was only three quarters of the way in but his tip still teased just down Oscar's throat on every thrust.

"Nice and quiet now," his boyfriend hummed. "Let's see how well you hold together for me with a bit more from my briefs."

Oscar's composure slipped as Pedro clicked the vibrator back on, gagging on his cock. Pedro took the opportunity to fuck further into his face, tip slipping all the way back until the end of Oscar's nose was just barely touching his bush.

"Good fucking boy," Pedro growled, "gonna fuck your throat harder 'til you've learned your lesson about mouthing off at me, sí? You ready for it?"

Oscad tried to reach out to grab at Pedro's thighs but was stopped by the chain tightening the collar around his throat, moaning at the tightness combined with half-choking on Pedro's dick.

"Trying to choke yourself, hm?" Pedro asked, pulling all the way out and forcing Oscar's hands back up to loosen the collar again. "Good boys ask their daddies permission first. Be a good boy now."

Heaving a few breaths at suddenly being able to breathe again, Pedro's hips jerked and he squeezed his thighs shut to force the vibrator up harder onto his dick. He took one last deep breath to try and steady himself.

"Please," he finally said, voice a bit thin from the way the younger mans cock had been shoved down it.

"Please what?" Pedro said, lazily stroking himself and holding up the vibrator control again.

"Please daddy," Oscar said quickly, not wanting the toy to shut off yet. "Please daddy let me choke myself a little."

"Aw, there he is," Pedro said. He patted Oscar twice on the cheek, making the boy scowl and harrumph. "Asking like a sweetheart. Just be careful, ey?" He loosened his grip on Oscar's hair for a moment. "You remember the sign for stop?"

Oscar nodded and held both his hands up, palms towards Pedro's legs, and closed his fingers into a full-hand pinch.

"Good," Pedro nodded. "Now open up."

No sooner did Oscar open his mouth back up than Pedro was ramming back in, this time fucking fast and hard to the hilt, quickly setting a punishing pace as he used his boyfriend's mouth.

"Take it baby, just like that," he said, fisting Oscar's hair hard again and exhaling sharply every time he slipped back into his throat. "And don't you fucking dare cum, I know you get off on having your throat used like this."

He grunted at the way Oscar's whining made his mouth vibrate around his cock: "That's right, feels fucking incredible; little bitch getting punished like he fucking deserves."

Oscar started to whine harder and louder as he got closer to cumming, pulling the collar just tight enough on his throat that he could feel the added pressure just barely restricting his breathing. Pedro felt himself throb hard watching Oscar's eyelids fall shut while he squirmed against the toy between his legs, fuck they were both close from enjoying this so much, fuck-

Oscar cried out again when Pedro suddenly pulled back out of his mouth, cock angry and rock solid and dripping with Oscar's saliva, and quickly clicked the vibrator off.

"Up on the bed," Pedro demanded, tugging on the heavy chain at Oscar's throat. "On your back for me, now."

Pouting, Oscar did as he was told and hurried up onto the bed, lying back against the pillows and looking furiously distraught. "Come on, I've been good enough, how much longer are you going to keep-"

"Enough." Pedro practically ripped the boxers that Oscar had made a sopping wet mess of off of him, pulled the vibrator off, and quickly stuffed them into Oscar's mouth as a makeshift gag.

"You can have that out when you're ready to stop talkin' back," Pedro said, shoving his own pants down to his knees as he climbed on top of his boyfriend, betraying how eager he was to keep going. "Gonna fuck this sweet little hole til you're beggin' me to let you get off."

Oscar was so slippery and wet from being edged so hard that the shorter man had no issue slipping inside him, getting halfway in on the first stroke. He let out an animalistic moan as he pulled out and thrust back in harder, grabbing his little toy by the hips for leverage as he bullied his way in, deeper and deeper.

"Gonna take every fuckin' inch of me," Pedro growled, watching as Oscar's cuffed hands bounced on his chest and his eyes rolled back, groaning deep and hard around the makeshift gag. "That's right; know how to act right once you're on your back with your legs open, hm? Ready to tell me you're done bein' a brat yet?"

"Mmm- mm-mmm," Oscar hummed out a protest, shaking his head no for extra emphasis.

"Nasty," Pedro chided. "Not to worry, I'll fuck that attitude all the way outta you."

Oscar's eyebrows contracted up hard as Pedro hoisted him up by the waist so that his ass was just hovering off the bed, wrapping his legs tightly around his boyfriend.

Pedro bent further over him, caging him in with his arms and pounding him so hard that the room was full of nothing but the lewd slapping of their skin, their heavy breaths and groans of pleasure drowned out by the ruthless fucking Oscar was getting.

"Hmmmph- hmmm," Oscar whined, tapping up on Pedro's chest.

The pre-arranged signal was promptly recognized; Pedro propped himself up on one arm and thrust all the way in again, grinding deep and hard until Oscar was twitching and gasping around the underwear again.

"Ready to tell me you're done talkin' back?" Pedro asked, running a finger over Oscar's lower lip.

Oscar nodded and whined, looking all too ready to give in.

"One more, hm?" Pedro reached down and put his fingers over Oscar's cock, waiting for the other's approval.

Oscar gave him a meaningful nod and Pedro started rubbing hard circles over his erection, twitching as Oscar clenched around him as he got closer and closer-

Pedro ripped his hand away when he could feel that Oscar was right on the precipice, savouring the almost tortured moan he let out and the denial.

He gently took the panties with one hand and slowly pulled them out of Oscar's mouth. "Say it."

"I... fu- god," Oscar struggled to catch his breath. "I'm done, I won't-"

"Come now, say it proper," Pedro said, tossing the panties to the side and grinding deep and hard up against Oscar as a punishing distraction. "Say, 'I won't talk back to daddy anymore.'"

"I won't- I won't talk back to daddy anymore," Oscar repeated, hips jerking desperately as he fought for more friction on his cock. "Please, I- I promise I won't talk back to daddy again, I promise-"

"Now that's a good fuckin' boy," Pedro said, "and good boys who don't talk back are allowed to get off."

The air was punched out of Oscar's lungs as Pedro started fucking him mercilessly again, yanking him up by the heavy chain at his throat so they were nose to nose. "Come on baby, say it, say it loud," he breathed, "tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"Y- you, you it- fu... yours," Oscar gasped out. "It's yours, GOD, YOURS- "

"That's fuckin' right it is," Pedro said, voice low and gravelly. "Wanna feel it cum for me, wanna feel you cum on me, come on baby get off for me now, right fuckin' now, wanna feel it-"

He was cut off by Oscar arching off the bed until only his shoulders and ass were still on it, tense and shaking while he came, eyes squeezed shut and choking on his own breath. Pedro dropped the chain and seated himself balls deep to grind up against his dick through it, trying to last until Oscar was finished.

"Please... please come inside daddy," Oscar said weakly as he started to come down. "Inside, please-"

That was all it took to tip Pedro over the edge: the sight of Oscar on his back, face flushed, eyes hazy, begging for his cum, bound in a collar with his name on it-

"Shit- shitshitshit-"

He barely managed to keep himself propped up as he spilled into Oscar's hole, chest heaving as he pushed their hips together as tightly as possible, wanting to make sure none of it leaked back out.

Oscar pressed his hands against his boyfriend's chest as much as he could with them still bound, watching his face while he finished deep inside him, wanting to commit to every last second of this to memory.

He waited until Pedro's body started to relax, watching him slowly blink his eyes back open, and reached up and put his hands on either side of Pedro's neck, pulling him down for a breathless kiss.

They stayed like that a moment, Oscar just kissing all over Pedro's lips and cheeks while the man struggled to catch his breath again. "It's okay, Osc," Pedro finally managed. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," Oscar said, unable to hold back any longer. "I want to, Pedro."

Pedro lowered his bodyweight onto Oscar at the words, covering him like a living weighted blanket. He used a hand to help open one of the cuffs to let Oscar's hands free, blinking as Oscar hurried to do the other on his own. He took the clip of the heavier chain himself, making Pedro slow down while he carefully undid the clasp and gently pulled it out through the collar.

Pedro found himself again watching Oscar's face, painted with care and concern and love as he eased the chain out and set the restraints off to the side.

Oscar put his unbound hands up on Pedro's cheeks, pulling him down for a real kiss, slow and soft. He hummed as he felt Pedro relax into him further, the deep pressure and shared heat grounding him in the present.

He let Pedro pull back after a moment, rubbing his thumb along one of his boyfriend's cheekbones.

"How're you feeling, amor?" Pedro asked him, leaning into the touch.

"Hm," Oscar said, almost amused by the question. "Very happy to be here with you." Pedro smiled back at him, closing his eyes as Oscar's fingertips traced over top his buzzcut. "How are you feeling?"

"Just... wanted to make sure it was what you wanted," Pedro said, once again looking at him with a tinge of concern.

Oscar pressed another soft, reassuring kiss to Pedro's lips. "It was perfect," he said softly. "That was exactly what I wanted. Was it what you wanted?"

Pedro pulled him ever closer, face pressed into the side of Oscar's neck. " 'nd more," he murmured against the beat of Oscar's heart in his throat. "You're incredible."

Wrapping his arms and legs tightly around his boyfriend, Oscar let him lie like that for a bit, chests rising and falling in a complimentary opposite pattern, until Pedro finally said: "What d'you think, shower? Bath? Want me to just clean you up here?"

"Shower," Oscar said right away. That was the only thing that hadn't firmly settled on with this plan, but now Oscar was aching for that type of intimacy. "Long as you're up for it."

Pedro lifted his head for another soft, loving kiss. "Absolutely."

Ten minutes later, Oscar was stepping into the shower that Pedro had insisted on warming up for him, not letting him get a word out before he was leaning into him and burrowing his head into Pedro's shoulder.

Pedro chuckled at the unexpected affection, pressing a kiss to Oscar's rapidly dampening temple as he started slowly massaging soap into his skin.

Oscar was extremely particular about what brand of soap he used where Pedro couldn't care less, so their bathroom was always kept well stocked with the 3-for-five packaging-free lavender soap that Oscar liked.

He inhaled the scent, calming and reassuring in its familiarity, while his boyfriend slowly cleaned him, top to bottom, inch by careful inch until he moved to set the bar down and wash himself-

"Please let me."

Pedro paused for a beat and then brought the soap back to place it in Oscar's waiting hand.

He kissed Pedro's scruffy cheek as he took it. "Gracias."

Pedro slowly relaxed under Oscar's touch, and although the boy moved a bit faster than he had, he was no less loving and his touches were no less treasured by Pedro than the Spaniard's own were by Oscar.

They spent a bit longer in the shower, Pedro making sure every little smudge and speck was gone, but not long after they were cuddled in bed, warm and quiet, Pedro gently massaging over where the cuffs had been on Oscar's wrists.

"They really were comfortable," Oscar remarked honestly. "The collar too; I'm almost surprised."

"Looked incredible on you," Pedro complimented him, kissing the back of one of his hands. "All of it. Fucking gorgeous with my name around your neck like that."

Oscar almost giggled as Pedro pulled him in to spoon him closer, kissing the side of his neck. "Pedro?" The Spaniard hummed "Can I swear again?" Oscar asked quietly.

Pedro gave one last gentle, sleepy kiss to the corner of Oscar's jaw. "Only if you do community service."

[speyeralling-down-thy-majesty]

Today's the day. Today's the day, Amelie decides, gathering the courage. Today is finally the day they come out to their father and stop putting on the façade of a trophy.

It gets ready, making sure to give Willard extra attention, partially due to stalling and dragging everything out until it can't anymore. Partially because faer cat can see their stress and worries.

This can go so many ways,many of which are dangerously wrong,but it has to do it. The stress and denial is just not worth it anymore. The façade is cracking either way.

Unlike usual, instead of getting there through a door,it takes a taxi. Amelie needs the extra time to think things through. Unfortunately, getting to their father's office isn't a long ride and it's over before they can even relax in the slightest.

So they make their way, knocking quietly on the door with a slightly shaking hand.

“Please come in.”- faer father says, unaware of who is standing behind the door.

With a moment of hesitation,it enters the office,a slight smile on their face. It's aware it looks different,but they couldn't do it anymore. They were sick of dressing in pinks and dresses that felt suffocating. They were sick of seeing the same ginger hair as their father's.

James seems more than taken aback at the sight of his child standing there with bright blue hair and a purple velvet suit,so unlike the version he is used to.

“Alice? Is everything alright? You… look rather different today.”

He says the word as if it's bad. To him,it very well might be. He was always too worried about others' opinions about him, doing his best to blend in and not drive any attention towards his appearance. He loved saying how the nail that sticks out gets hammered in.

“I can assure you that I am feeling perfectly fine,no need to worry about me.”- they smile, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk.

“What's the matter with your appearance? Is this some sort of a joke?”

“About that… I have come to tell you something.”

Amelie breathes in, fidgeting with faer septum slightly. They avoid its father's eyes,scared of what they'll see in them. His disapproval might as well break them.

“Well then. Go on,Alice.”

Amelie takes a deep breath,feeling the scrutinising gaze on them. Will he take their words seriously? Only one way to find it out.

“Well,first off,please call me Amelie. I… I do not like being called Alice anymore. Second, my pronouns are they/them,so please do not call me a girl. I am non binary and aro ace. I am no longer willingly tolerating being misgendered,so please make sure to remember this.”

They rattle it out,scared of being interrupted. Amelie stills,waiting for a reaction. James seems to process this for a few minutes before breaking into an amused loud chuckle.

“Really,Alice? That is what you had to say? I almost thought you wanted to discuss serious matters. I told you several years ago,sweetie, you will forever stay my precious little girl.”

He gets up to pinch Amelie's cheek. Others would see it as a sign of affection,but to them,it was patronising. A confirmation that he will stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the change of his child.

"Are you sure your work is not stressing you out too much? Mayhaps you could benefit from a change?"

Their heart drops and shatters right beneath their feet,despair and anger slowly bubbling. What did they try for? It changed nothing. Might as well have made it worse. Should they accept this? Keep up the façade and let it slowly break them to pieces until fae can no longer function?

The words said by Outis and Jackson echo in their mind. Giving up means leaving them behind,and they could not do it. They couldn't let down their friends and let this defeat them.

So they make a choice.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

And another thing! Literally any queer story that takes place during the colonial age would have a huge gaping hole in it if it didn't have anticolonialism as a theme. Especially one that centers indigenous people. Like the reason that every culture had their own concepts of gender until something happened and then suddenly the gender binary was ubiquitous is because western European colonial powers made their view of gender the only acceptable one as part of christianizing and colonizing the world. You're not gonna have a show set in 1717 in the Caribbean where the love interest is a gay Maori man and the main deuteragonist is a non-binary mestizo catholic and just skip over colonialism. Like these are exactly the people who western gender roles are being forced on at fucking gun point during this era. Jim and Ed are both mixed race characters who's gender and sexual identities are in active defiance of the colonial powers that be. And this is the fucking Stede Ed and Jim show.

And there's something to be said for the fact that Stede's toxic masculinity plot line is internalized and Ed's struggle with toxic masculinity is largely external in the form a white guy who rubs elbows with the British Navy when Ed doesn't behave to his standard of masculinity. That choice didn't come out of nowhere and it shows a deep understanding of where homophobia comes from. That's not to say that precolonial communities of color were paradise for people that we today would consider queer but the rich tapestry of sexual and gender expressions that existed in those communities were erased in the name of colonialism. That's going to affect literally any queer person at the time when OFMD is set. These two things are inextricably linked.

Like when David Jenkins says a lot of what we're taught about being men is wrong, motherfucker who taught us what a man was. Who taught Ed what a man was? Who taught Stede what a man was for that matter? It's the white dad with the English accent who is violent (derogatory) and overbearing.

Like you get what I'm saying right? Like it's a silly little rom com but also it must necessarily be that deep because of who these characters are and when and where they exist.

[confinesofmy]

🧍i'm still so angry about earlier, it's crazy. like i feel crazy. but she changed our plans around so much. and she didn't even call me. to confirm the changes, or to check i was still available. and when i brought up our previous plans she was so dismissive. and i was like oh wait i have autonomy why am i acting like i don't have autonomy. so i called her back and she was like who do you think you are, someone with autonomy? 😂 i think you're lying about why you don't want to go, despite what you mentioned being something that's been a big horrible part of your life for over 6 months now... who the fuck is this person to me outside of the family structure. who the fuck does she think she is that she can say shit like this and remain a part of my life.

i want to fall back on the whole "it's not that serious" mentality but when i picture how she would respond if i was jerking her around like this it all falls apart. it is that serious. you cannot treat people this way and expect to stay on good terms with them in the real world.

[timeisacephalopod]

I think it's weird when cis people act like misgendering trans people isn't at all hurtful because cis people loathe being misgendered. I had a friend in grade school who kept her hair short and it pissed her off to no end when people called her a boy and it happened frequently. Mistake someone's infant for the wrong gender and suffer for it. Misgender a cis persons dog and suffer for it. Men and boys get told not to be pussies or they X "like a girl" to deliberately humiliate them (although misogyny plays it's role in this one too) and all the sudden when trans people say they don't like being misgendered cis people are confused?

Trans people know when you misgender them you're not making a mistake, you're looking to humiliate them the way you feel humiliated when you're mistaken for a gender you're not. No need to act like trans people are requesting special consideration when you don't want to be continuously labeled the wrong gender either.

[local-redhead-bookworm]

If people could stop perceiving my hair color as my defining trait that’d be great

[rotturn]

every day on this trip is worse