#zipping uh... zippers. there. we got it.

[crodfoller-t-rhubarb]

I *just* realized that Gregg Berger aka Cornfed Pig from Duckman aka Jecht from Final Fantasy X aka Cutthroat Bill from Curse of Monkey Island... also worked on the widely syndicated, St. Louis-produced PBS phonics show "The Letter People," which taught me to read by the time I was three. In addition to playing several letter people himself (including Mr. V, the smoothest, suavest motherfucker in the alphabet in his Violet Velvet Vest), he also had a standout performance as the poor experimental word machine that Miss O fucking tortured by forcing it to try applying conventional short vowel logic to words like "cold" or "to" or "word" despite his literal *constant* pleas for her to stop as he belches smoke all over the laboratory. Girlboss gets the goods as usual. It's all on YouTube. Seriously, check out that Mr. V episode. Wait for his introductory song to wrap up, then listen as that velvety sum'bitch learns your ass on what the voiced labiodental fricative is all about.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 6 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, third date!, reader goes to the gym, fluff, sexual innuendo

❥ A/N: I'll be going back to work this week so the parts may slow down a bit, just a heads up!

You wake up around nine thirty on Saturday morning, but you scroll on your phone in bed until ten. You get up, start your coffee as you get dressed. You pull out a three-piece workout outfit you bought online a couple months ago but have only worn a couple of times. It's in your favorite color, leggings and a sports bra with a cropped jacket, all the same pattern. You put it on, admiring your form in the mirror. You rearrange your breasts in the mirror so that they're pushed together more, and you zip up the jacket to under your chest, giving a perfect view of your cleavage.

You briefly wonder why you're doing this, but you know why.

You have a small coffee as you wait, scrolling through your phone until there's a knock at your door.

"Just a sec!" you yell, filling your coffee cup with water and leaving it in the sink. You grab your water bottle, slipping on your gym shoes before opening the door. "Hi!"

"Hey." He's wearing sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. His eyes glance up and down your form. "You look nice."

"You like it?" you ask, looking down at your outfit before giving a pose. He smiles softly.

"Yeah. It looks good on you." He reaches out but pauses, drawing his hand back. "Can... may I make a small adjustment?"

"Oh? To my outfit?" He nods. "Uh... sure."

He grunts, reaching forward and grabbing the zipper on your jacket, pulling it up until it reaches your collarbones. He pulls away, nodding.

"Better. You ready?"

You glance down at your now covered chest, then back at him.

"Uh, sure. I'm ready." He hums, then glances down at your feet.

"Your shoes are untied." You look down at them with him.

"Yeah, I know. I'll tie them when I get to the gym."

"Let me."

"I—"

He's already down on one knee, fiddling with your shoe laces. He ties them for you, not too tight, just snug enough that it's comfortable. He moves on to the other shoe and does the same. When he's done, he pulls back, admiring his work. He nods and stands, when you jab a finger into his chest.

"Stop doing whatever you want to me without asking."

"What?"

"You keep doing stuff without asking me how I would feel. Picking me up, tying my shoes. I get that you want to be a gentleman, but you need to ask me if I'm okay with you doing these things before you do them, okay? We still don't know each other that well yet, so you can't be doing whatever you want to me, got it?"

He slumps a bit, but nods.

"Okay. I'm sorry for doing those things without your permission."

"I forgive you. Just ask me next time, okay?" He nods again.

"Okay."

You tug at your jacket, closing your apartment door behind you.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

The gym he goes to is clearly more advanced than your gym. Your gym is full of casual exercisers, people who don't make the gym their life. Here, the gym seems to be the only thing that matters in these peoples' lives. The men are so muscular here, and the few women that there are have sculpted bodies. You imagine them all to be gym influencers on social media.

"What do you want to do?" he asks, hands in his hoodie pocket.

"Oh, um..." You glance around the gym, thinking. "Well, I like to do cardio before I lift weights, so I guess I'll go on the treadmill for a bit before using the machines."

"I'll join you," he offers, already guiding you to the treadmills.

"Oh! You don't have to! You can go do your own workout if you want."

"I invited you to the gym so I could work out with you, not alone." He steps up on a treadmill, holding out his hand for you. You take it, his hand keeping you steady as you get up on the treadmill next to his. "There's no point in coming here together if we don't work out together."

"Alright, alright. If you really want to work out together, we can." His hand is still holding yours. His thumb runs along the back of your hand for a moment, but before you can ask him what's wrong, he pulls his hand away, turning the treadmill on.

You prep yourself with some light stretches before you turn the machine on as well. You start slow, letting your heart rate build up before you get into a fast walk. You glance at Guy, who is walking at a faster speed. You chalk it up to him having longer legs and a longer stride than you, so you don't fret about it.

It's not until he starts running beside you that you become competitive. He bumps up the speed on the treadmill and falls into a jog. His speed is fast, but he makes it look so easy, like this is just a warm up for him. You huff, increasing the speed on your treadmill to match his, just to show him that he's not the only one who can do that.

It doesn't work out well. You sprint for twenty to thirty seconds before you're decreasing the speed again, huffing and puffing. You slow down to a walk again, catching your breath, and this asshole is still running without panting at all. It was slowly pissing you off, but you reminded yourself that your levels of fitness were different and that you shouldn't feel bad about the level you were at. You were still strong and healthy, and that's all that should matter.

Twenty minutes pass when you turn off the machine. He turns his off soon after, slowing to a jog and then a walk before stopping altogether. You make eye contact as you sip some water.

"What would you like to do next?" You hum.

"Weightlifting, but I'm not familiar with your gym." He points off into the distance.

"There's some Smith machines over by the free weights. We could do that if you want." You shrug.

"Sure, sounds good."

He leads you over to the machines he suggested, a bit more pep in his step. Maybe running gave him some more energy.

He goes to an end machine, next to the free weight benches, before turning to you.

"We could alternate between the two," he points to the free weights and the Smith machine. "You could be on one and I could be on another. Or I could spot you, if you'd like."

"Oh, I don't need a spotter," you wave him off. "I'm not gonna do anything crazy, but thank you for offering." He nods, waiting. You glance at the equipment before stepping towards the Smith machine. "I guess I'll start here."

"Alright. I'll pull a bench closer so we can work out next to each other."

"Okay," you reply, putting your water bottle down on the floor so you could set up. You raised the bar until it was shoulder height, moving to one side and adding some weight before adding that same amount of weight to the other side. You move back to the center of the bar, glancing over to see Guy place two large weights on a bench right beside your machine. You briefly wonder how much they weigh before you position yourself for squats.

You don't push yourself too hard. You do what you're used to, four sets of ten reps, increasing the weight by five or ten pounds once or twice to challenge yourself. You can feel eyes staring at you, but every time you glance over at Guy, he's looking away. You feel like you're going crazy as you reset the bar and take off the weights.

You opt for hip thrusts next, grabbing a foam bar to put over the metal bar you're using. You rearrange a nearby bench to sit in front of the bar, getting down on the ground after adding weights to the machine. You do some hip thrusts, four sets of ten again, only getting up once to add ten pounds to the bar. You can feel the strain in your ass when you're done, panting slightly after your last set. When you're finished, Guy shows up at your side.

"Can we trade for a bit?" he asks. You nod.

"Sure," you say, just a little bit breathless. You get up and move out of the way, letting him change the weights on the machine. You go to the bench he was using, taking your water bottle with you. You glance at the size of the weights he was using.

"One hundred pounds?!" you whisper in disbelief, glancing back at him. He's still adding weights to the bar. You swallow hard, humbly grabbing the five pound weights before returning to the bench.

You do some basic arm exercises: bicep curls, tricep extensions, just a couple you can think of. All the while, Guy has been doing hip thrusts and glancing at you every minute or so. You try to ignore him, to focus on your own workout, but his stare is so intense sometimes that you can't focus. He eventually finishes, getting up and stretching a bit. He walks towards you, leaning down.

"I'm going to run to the restroom really quick. You can have the machine back, if you want."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." He nods, walking away. You return your five pound weights and look at the weights he put on the Smith machine. You add up the weights together, slowly realizing that he was working out with more weight than you held on your entire body. You marvel at the idea of him being so strong before slowly removing each of the weights, putting them back in their proper place.

You decide to do dead lifts, adding weight to the bar before positioning yourself in front of it. You start your dead lifts, watching yourself in the wall-length mirror. You notice Guy show up when you're halfway through your routine, slowly approaching you. He's watching you, staring at you, more specifically at your lower half as you bend over. You finish your set, processing that he'd been staring at your ass the last couple of minutes of your workout. You reset the bar, turning around to face him, hands on your hips.

"You good?" you ask, a bit of sass in your tone. His eyes widen and dart away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just, um, going to see what else you wanted to do." You shrug.

"I'm pretty much done. You can keep going and I can just watch, if you want." He clears his throat.

"I just wanted to do one last exercise on the Smith before we go."

"Okay." You step out of the way, holding out your hands and presenting the machine to him. He smiles, moving to change the weights on the machine. You stand to the side with your water bottle, watching him add weights, adding them up in your head. He's added your body weight to the machine plus thirty more pounds. He moves the bench, laying down on it before grabbing the bar, preparing to do a bench press. You watch in amazement and almost horror as he bench presses your weight and then some on the Smith machine. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him moving up and down smoothly, barely straining under the weight. You glanced around to see other people in the gym staring at him, especially the women. A couple giggle and whisper to each other as they look at him, probably talking about how hot he is or something like that. You feel a tad bit embarrassed. What were you doing with a man like this? He was so much more competent in the gym than you were; it was a wonder that he wanted to work out with you at all. Maybe he regretted it, you wondered as he finished his last set, resetting the bar and sitting up. You glance at him in the mirror, and he's staring at you intensely, eyes dark.

"I'm... gonna go fill up my water bottle real quick," you say, turning on your heel and walking to the water fountains.

You unzip your jacket, feeling hot as you fill up your water bottle. You pondered your relationship with Guy, if it would last, if it was even worth it as your water bottle filled up.

"Hey," you hear beside you and you stop filling your water bottle, glancing at the man that had approached you. He was tall, not as tall as Guy, but he still towered over you. He wasn't as buff as Guy either, but he still looked very strong. "I like your outfit."

You glanced down at yourself before giving him a smile.

"Oh, thank you! I got it online."

"It suits you well." He leans against the wall, smirking at you. "I've never seen you around here before; are you new?"

"Oh, yeah, kind of. I've never been here before."

"Well, welcome." He holds out his hand. "I'm Josh." You hesitantly take his hand and shake it.

"I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He pulls his hand away but still lingers. "You know, if we come to the gym at the same time, I could be your workout buddy. I could spot you and help you train."

"Oh! No, that's not necessary. I don't need a spotter."

"You don't? That sucks. I'd love to help you workout sometime."

You're about to ask him why when a large arm impedes on the space between you and this stranger, palm hitting the wall and making Josh jolt. You look up to see Guy, who is glaring daggers at the man you just met.

"Oh! Hey dude, I didn't know you were here today. You just get here, or...?"

"No," he grumbles, turning to you. He whispers a 'sorry' before zipping your jacket up again, covering your cleavage. He grabs your hand, turning to glare again at Josh. "We were leaving."

"Oh," he says, glancing between the two of you before raising his eyebrows. "Oooh. Got it, my bad dude, I didn't know she was off limits." He takes a step back but waves at you. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. Have a good day."

"What was that about?" you ask as Josh jogs off.

"Just an asshole that has no business talking to you." He looks back at you, his expression softening. "Would you like to get lunch now?"

You blink, giving a small shrug.

"Sure, we can."

"Are you mad at me?" Guy asks as you sit down with your food. You furrow your brow, taking a sip of your drink.

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Well, ever since we finished at the gym, you've been quiet. Was it because I zipped up your jacket again without asking you? Because I—"

"Guy." He stops, closing his mouth. "I'm not mad at you. I just... was thinking."

"About what?" he asks, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. You stare at your food, pouting before looking up at him.

"Don't scold me," you mumble. He shakes his head and you sigh. "I saw you lifting those weights earlier and I just felt so inadequate. I mean, there's plenty of other women more fit than I am, beautiful women with great personalities and perfect boobs and I just—"

"Stop." He puts his sandwich down, chewing the last bite before swallowing. "I don't want a woman like that. I want you. That's why I'm courting you; that's why I asked you to be my girlfriend. I want you, Y/N, nobody else. I want you because of who you are now, not who you could be. Okay?"

You curl into yourself, feeling your cheeks burn.

"Okay." You squirm a little. "I'm sorry for needing so much reassurance. You'll probably get annoyed with me, huh?"

"I can't promise that I'll never get annoyed with you, because anything is possible, but I promise I will never leave you or dislike you even if I'm annoyed." You swallow.

"Are you annoyed now?"

"No." He grabs his sandwich again, bringing it to his lips. "I honestly can't imagine ever being annoyed with you, but I suppose anything can happen."

"What would make you annoyed with me?" He shrugs after taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Maybe if you started dieting to lose weight, or if you broke up with me just because you thought I deserved someone different. Those things would bother me quite a bit."

You nod in understanding, sipping your drink again.

"What could I do that annoys you?" he asks. You hum.

"Well, if you try to control me, or tell me what to do when I didn't ask for your input. If you made mean comments about me or my body. If you did stuff like that, I would break up with you." He nods.

"I wasn't planning on doing any of that, but I'll keep that in mind." His shoe taps yours. "Don't let your sandwich get cold."

"I won't," you huff, sticking your tongue out. He chuckles as you grab your sandwich and take a bite, moaning happily. "Oh my god, it's so good."

"It is, isn't it? I love this place."

"How did you find it?"

"I was just looking for somewhere to eat for lunch one day and stumbled upon it. Now I come here pretty regularly."

"I can see why. This is delicious!"

He smiles, taking another bite. The both of you eat in silence for a little while.

"So," you begin, putting down your half-eaten sandwich and wiping your hands on a napkin, "what was the deal with that Josh guy? Do you hate him or something?"

He groans, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not fond of him. He's a huge flirt with all the women at the gym, and he ghosts them after he fucks them."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Because he brags about it to all the guys who will listen. He brags about sleeping with women at the gym and then never texting them back. He's an asshole." He takes another bite of his sandwich, huffing. "I don't want you exposed to a guy like that." You hum.

"And why did you zip up my jacket all day?"

He pauses as he goes in for another bite, glancing up at you. He closes his mouth, swallowing hard, glancing down at your chest before looking back in your eyes.

"I didn't want people to look at you." You raise your eyebrow.

"You mean my chest?" He hesitates but nods. You nod slowly. "I see. So you didn't want people looking at my titties?" He scoffs, coughing for a moment, covering his mouth.

"I guess, if you wanna say it like that." You smile, humming. You twist your mouth, reach for your zipper and slowly pull it down, exposing your cleavage. His eyes widen, flicking down to your chest and back to your face. He glances around the restaurant and you giggle.

"Nobody is looking but you, dingus. Nobody else cares."

"That's what you think. I've seen the way people look at you."

"Oh, really?" You take another bite of your sandwich as he nods. "And how do they look at me?"

"Like they wanna fuck you." You shake your head as he takes his last bite, picking up stray ingredients on his plate and eating them.

"You're crazy. Nobody wants to fuck me but you."

"If you can't see it, then you're blind." You scoff.

"Rude. The only person people were looking at today was you when you lifted all those weights." He scrunched up his face, shaking his head.

"Nobody was looking at me."

"Yes, they were. There were a couple of guys and girls looking at you. Bet the girls were thinking about asking for your number."

"Well, I wasn't paying attention to them, so they don't matter. All I was thinking about was you." You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Is that why you were lifting weights heavier than me?" you asked.

"Ah. So you did notice."

"Yeah, I did. What was that all about?" He wipes his mouth with a napkin, sighing deep.

"I wanted to impress you." You nod slowly, swallowing your food.

"Well, I was thoroughly impressed. And horrified. I thought the weights were gonna crush you."

"I wouldn't let that happen. I'm too strong."

"Yeah, no shit. I've seen that several times."

"Well..." He scratches at a spot on the table, not looking at you. "I wanted you to see it again."

You sigh, glancing at your sandwich.

"I was very impressed," you continue. "But I already knew you were strong when you picked me up at our last date."

"I know. But that was only temporary because you didn't like it. I wanted to show you that I could hold your weight for longer."

You hum, taking another bite.

"Then why did you use my weight for the hip thrusts?" you ask, glancing at him. You see him squirm in his seat, scratching at his jawline, avoiding eye contact. You squint at him, thinking, before your eyes widen and your mouth falls open.

"Oh my god. Oh my god!" You gasp, covering your mouth to hide your shocked smile. "Guy, you—oh my god, are you kidding me?!"

"I wanted to impress you," he whispered harshly, still not looking at you. You reach across the table and playfully slap his bicep.

"You bad boy!" you tease, shaking your head. "I can't believe you. Doing hip thrusts to impress me? Oh, you're naughty."

"Don't tease me," he grumbles, pressing his forehead against the table and sighing loudly. "I feel stupid."

"You're not stupid. Don't say that."

"I'm embarrassed."

"You're cute." He turns his head to look up at you with puppy-dog eyes.

"You think I'm cute?"

"Yes. I've told you this before, you silly goose." You finish your sandwich as he sits up straight, taking a deep breath.

"Y/N."

"Yeah?"

"When I take you home, can I kiss you?" You choke on your last bite, covering your mouth with your hand and coughing. He reaches across the table for you, but you hold up a hand to stop him.

"You—hack—you want to kiss me?!" He nods, eyes locked on you. You shake your head and laugh lightly. "Well, at least you asked instead of just doing it.

He pulls up in front of your apartment, opening the door for you to get out. He walks you up the stairs.

"I really enjoyed today," he tells you sincerely. You smile at him.

"I really liked today, too. Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course." He stops when he reaches the door with you. "I'd love to do this again sometime, if you'd like."

"I'd like that." He returns your smile, staring at you. You lean on one foot, tilting your head. "So, I guess you want that kiss now, huh?"

"If that's okay."

You giggle, pulling on his hoodie, coaxing him to go down one step so that his face is closer to yours. You cup his cheeks with both hands, smiling sweetly at him.

"You ready, handsome?" He swallows, licking his lips.

"Yeah."

You sigh, leaning in and puckering your lips before pressing them gently against his. His mouth is receptive to yours, letting you mold against him and kiss him sweetly. Your lips push and pull for a moment, his large hands coming to rest on your wrists, holding your hands against him. You give him one last kiss before pulling away, smiling at him. His eyes slowly open, hazier than before.

"Thank you," he whispers, drunk off of your lips. You rest your forehead against his, staring into his eyes.

"Next time we'll use tongue," you whisper back. He chuckles, turning his head to kiss your palm.

"I don't know if I can handle that yet."

"We don't need to rush," you reassure him. "I like the pace we've been going at. I appreciate you letting me take the lead on most things."

"You're welcome."

You pull away, patting your hand against his chest.

"Can I call you tonight?" he asks.

"Of course." He smiles wide.

"Cool." He clears his throat, stepping down. He gives a small wave, which you return. "Bye."

"Bye, Guy."

He takes the steps two at a time, jumping down the last three and landing on the concrete. You giggle as he practically skips to his car, giving you one last wave before he gets in, driving off.

You enter your apartment, doing a little dance as you make your way to the bathroom for a shower.

[entitled-fangirl]

Sweet little nothings.

Felix Catton x reader

Summary: Felix does sweet things absentmindedly for the reader, making her fall more and more in love with him.

Words: 679

Warning: Talk of someone saying something rude, suggestive comment

Author's note: This is an ask based off of this wonderful post!

Masterlist <3

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“Did you eat today, angel?”

It was a genuine question, one that Felix asked often. His beautiful girl looked up from her book, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, uh… I…. I don’t think so.”

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his face. She was too precious. Too sweet. She couldn’t even remember to eat she was so invested in the day’s activities. 

He stood, grabbing her wrist gently to pull her up next to him. He then pulled her against him, kissing her gently on the nose, his voice a low whisper. “D’wanna eat here or out?”

She looked up at him, meeting his pretty brown eyes with her own. “…out? I… I need out of the house… if that’s alright?”

He grinned, “That’s more than alright, angel. Go get your coat.”

She didn’t hesitate to do so. She pulled the jacket around her, fumbling with the zipper hurriedly.

He walked to her calmly, placing his hands over hers. “I got it.” He then easily zips her coat for her. His arms wrap around her neck, fixing the hood. “There, angel. You ready?”

…

The two sat in the restaurant, quietly enjoying their meals. 

“So… he said what to you?”

She shrugged. “It was stupid. I don’t think about it often.”

His eyebrows pull together as he sets his fork down, “Well, does it bother you?”

She sighs, twirling her own fork in her hand, “It did at the time. Now? I don’t know, Lex. It’s fine.”

It was his turn to sigh as his hand moved up to cradle her cheek gently. “It’s not fine if it bothers you, angel. He shouldn’t have said that.” 

She stares at the nearly empty plate in front of them, a distant look in her eyes. 

His thumb moves up her cheek, lightly brushing a crumb from her face. “I mean it. Say the word, and I’ll make sure he apologizes. Truly.”

She lets out a soft laugh, “It was almost a year ago, Lex. He probably doesn’t remember.”

“Oh, he will when I remind him.” He lifts his fork, stabbing the last piece of their shared steak. He holds it out in front of her face. “C’mon. You need the protein.”

She leans forward slightly, her lips wrapping around the fork, taking the piece graciously. 

He smiles, “Let’s say we pay the bill then head back to Saltburn. I have a little surprise for you, angel.”

She was thrown off, but agreed nonetheless. 

…

The servants opened the front doors to the mansion, letting the couple walk in. She happily let him pull her to one of the many living areas, this one in particular being his favorite one. 

He pulls her in front of his body to give her the first view before his arms move over her shoulders, pushing the doors open. 

A huge bouquet of flowers sat on the coffee table near the couch. Her favorite snack sat on a tray next to it. She was speechless. “You… you did this? For… me?”

He wore the happiest grin. “Indeed, I did. Well, Duncan helped, of course. Now, go on, angel.”

She walked further into the room before she stopped again. Her favorite movie sat on the TV, waiting to be watched. She spun around to look at him. “Lex, this is incredible! But… why?”

He shrugged moving to pull her into his arms again. “Don’t need a reason. Just wanted to. Besides, I know you’ve been wanting me to watch this movie, and what better way to do so?”

She hugged him tightly before whispering in his ear, “If you keep this up, I don’t think we’ll be watching much of the next movie.”

He grinned, pulling her to the couch to begin their movie night together. 

…

Duncan came in once to check on the couple. 

The girl lay against the boy, her head resting on his chest as she slumbered. The boy, however, continued to watch the movie reverently, his fingers moving in her hair as if a natural instinct.

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[oatmealwrites]

A Night To...Forget? Ch.5

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 4 | Part 6 -> coming soon!

[a night to forget masterlist here]

Synopsis : Keigo is suspiscious when you finally come home but offers words of encouragement for your upcoming date. Classes drone by, some work piles up, but it's finally time for your date with Shōta. Of course you triple check your purse before heading out the door: Phone? Check. Wallet? Check. Apartment Keys...? whoops

Tags : Mentions of hickies, french kissing, only first base -> he's a gentleman, mentions of ogling, both parties flirting, alcohol, situationship? Kiego a hypeman but also an ass, JEALOUS AIZAWA, no established title yet, precursor to nsfw hehe, MDNI, 18+

a/n: this was supposed to include nsfw you guys fucking but the chapter got a bit too long -> i already wrote it though, so I'll post it soon as ch.6!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The elevator ride up from the lobby to your apartment is done mindlessly as you walk to your door and turn the key. Recalling the moment of kissing Aizawa over and over again is at the forefront of your mind; your quirk ensuring each detail is in perfect view as the scene unfolds on repeat. 

As you step inside, a dreamy grin on your lips, you barely register the company that’s sitting at the kitchen island watching your every move. Calloused hands remove the cap to a bottle of beer while a blonde eyebrow raises in a mixture of concern and frustration.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to come home.” He takes a sip with a questionable expression as you startle slightly and kick off your work shoes. “What happened to ‘I’ll be up in a few minutes’?”

You ensure the zipper of your winter coat is zipped high under your chin and move to awkwardly shuffle past him to your bedroom while rolling your eyes. He spins on the chair when you don’t offer an actual explanation.

“Your winter coat is still on.”

“Oh– I’m just gonna…. Uh, hang it up?” you stop short and try to nonchalantly keep walking away but his eyes keep you locked in place.

“In your room?” He stands up but remains in the kitchen. “You have a coat closet by the front door.”

There’s a moment of silence; a deaf countdown to when either one of you will move next. Within a fraction of second you both scramble to run: you towards your bedroom door, and him to stand in front of it.

Keigo reaches it at the same time as you, and when you twist to turn the knob he angles further to drive your balance forward. In a moment of the scuffle, your coat collar dips forwards and his height gives him an angled view down the fabric and at your neck.

“OH MY GOD”

In a scramble forward to tug your collar down further, you swat him away and try to avoid his incredulous stare. Keigo surrenders your coat and instead blinks rapidly in excitement and eagerness.

“You guys fucked? When?!... NOW?” He makes a dash for the living room window and swivels his head to examine every corner of the parking lot in a frantic hurry.

In defeat, you walk towards your actual coat closet and shimmy off your parka before hanging it up and meandering over to your kitchen island. Keigo is still frantically searching the parking lot for a sign of Aizawa’s car and shuffles over to the next set of windows for a better view.

His breath is fogging up the glass as he hovers in front. “Where is he?? He's gonna lay pipe with my best friend, and not even walk her up?!”

“Keigo–” you warn curtly, and he takes the cue to come back into the kitchen and slide into the spinning island stool across from you. “Can’t we just eat?” You whine, eyeing the to-go packages and plates all set up.

He shakes his head and leans onto the counter further as you pile your plate with fried chicken wings and a few sides; his gaze is brutal. “Spill. Now.”

You squirm slightly and pick up a fry from your plate; your fingers dip into a sauce container but never bring the food up to your lips. “Well… I don’t really know what it is to be honest–”

“Huhh?? Your neck is covered in bruises!” He points at you with the bone of a wing he had previously finished. 

“It’s complicated.”

You sit feeling torn, a mixture of excitement and frustration at the lack of clarity of everything which just happened. Keigo sits and, for once in his life, remains silent while you work out the sentence on the tip of your tongue. “I had to leave after we kissed… but we did confirm the dinner is a date.”

Keigo claps his hands and is satisfied enough to now continue eating as he congratulates you. “I knew you could do it! On your date, just ask if it’s a casual thing or something exclusive!”

Feeling slightly better, you take a few bites of the food on your plate and work out the logistics of how to bring that topic up. It’s not like you wanted him to commit to something super serious right away, but it would be nice knowing he saw you as something more than a colleague or potential quick fuck. 

Chewing happily and sucking a few crumbs from the fat of his thumb, Keigo reaches over and opens another bottle of beer and slides it across the island to you. He finishes the current skewer between his fingers and places the stick on his plate with an intense gaze before clapping his hands once.

“Alright, now it’s time for the important part.”

You raise an eyebrow and don’t bother to question him, throwing a few sauce covered fries into your mouth as your appetite increases.

He raises his hands up slightly over his plate and keeps them touching at the palms. “Ok, now... Tell me when to stop.”

“Wait, what–”

He slowly begins separating his hands in a form of measurement and you roll your eyes. “Are you ser—”

“Woa, ok so average…” Keigo continues the distance.

“Keigo.”

“Woa, ok– didn’t expect that..”  His hands are around seven inches apart.

“Keigo.”

“OK, now this is just showing off.”

“KEIGO, STOP”

He stops his hands at around nine inches and looks between you and his hands with a shell shocked expression. “Here?! That just looks painful– how are you walking? Let’s restart, ok.”

“Can you just shut up?” You rub your eyes with the back of your hands; mascara slightly flaking off. “We didn’t fuck, ok?”

Keigo looks down at his hands before glancing at his own crotch in thought before resigning to continue his food; his gaze on you is still skeptical. “Ok… so he just sucked your neck like Nosferatu and left? Either impeccable self restraint or a total virg.”

“Can you be helpful for once, please?”

The man across from you laughs and raises his hands once in surrender before he continues eating. “Ok ok. I’ll be serious– though it is good you guys didn’t fuck in the car; the back aches are not worth it.”

You roll your eyes at him and poke your tongue out in disgust. “Ugh, gross.”

Satisfied, you finish your chicken wing and wash it down with the cold beer Keigo had slid you earlier. There’s a comfortable silence as you both finish your meals and he silently takes on the task of putting away the dirty dishes when you leave to change out of your work clothes.

Sweatpants and oversized hoodie on, you rejoin Keigo in the living room as he mindlessly scrolls through a variety of programs in search of something good. Sitting in your usual position next to him, you pivot slightly and hold your phone.

“What do I do now?”

He hums slightly and settles to watch a few moments of a Hallmark romcom before flipping to the next channel. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do I text him now? Or do I wait for him to reach out first?”

“Ha, you’re so overthinking this.” He laughs slightly before settling on an obviously staged ‘real housewives’ program. 

“It’s not like I can not think about it– the moment is literally seared into my mind forever.”

“Kinky.”

You shove his shoulder and Keigo finally puts down the remote to face you better from his seat. “Ok, just relax alright? If you guys didn’t settle on a title or label, then you’re still just colleagues… and now maybe friends who happen to makeout and go on dates.”

Deflating slightly and opening your phone for the 100th time since you got home, you sink into the sofa cushion when there’s no new notification. “That doesn’t sound like friends…”

“Well, that’s all you got right now”

You purse your lip and stare down at the screen in thought. “If it’s casual then it shouldn’t matter if I send a message right? It’s chill…platonic, right?”

Keigo chuckles but is obviously happy to see you in slightly better spirits as you open your messaging app and pull up Aizawa’s contact. Well, now it’s technically ‘Shōta’ between you both.

To: Aizawa Shōta

Thanks for the ride earlier! I have some classes and externship work this week so my schedule is a bit tight… but I’m excited for our date next week!

You place your phone on the coffee table and sit back on the couch trying to convince yourself that you’re fine. You’re not. Despite attempting to watch two women passive aggressively fight over something menial, you’re glancing down at your phone every few seconds. 

Why isn’t he answering?

Keigo peels his eyes off the screen and notices the way you sit uncomfortably while staring at your phone as if it’s paint drying; with a sigh he stands up and pats your shoulder before walking to the coat closet.

“Alright, I’m heading out. You need to relax.” He tugs on his signature hero jacket and fixes the collar. “Shower, sleep, do school work or something.”

You lean up over the back of the couch and watch as he fixes his boots on and pats down his pockets to ensure he has everything. “I’ll be busy tomorrow, but if you’re up for lunch after your lecture the day after, I can swing by.” He offers while taking out your spare apartment keys.

With an anxious ‘goodbye’, you watch as he opens the door and clicks the lock; when the sound of his boots disappear down the hallway you stand up and head for the shower. 

It’s your usual evening routine of a quick warm shower, skincare, and a few social media scrolls before you’re tucked into bed and setting your morning alarm. The warmth of your comforter is enough to let drowsiness wash you over you and to finally subside the worry that was sitting under your skin for the past few hours.

Heavy eyelids shutting, you’re convinced that none of the things you’ve been worrying about really matter– and that you don’t need the approval of a man to make you happy anyways. 

Ping!

Immediately you throw off the covers and snatch your phone from your nightstand to see who had messaged you as the device pings again.. 

From: Aizawa Shōta

I look forward to it as well.

Please let me know if you work late again, I don’t mind driving you if it means you won’t be walking alone at night. 

Straightforward and chivalrous, despite your bruised neck, his message is permanently memorized into your mind as you read it over a few times. Giddy energy leaves you kicking your feet slightly and a sensation of happiness washes over you; though the time is too late to respond and make it seem like you weren’t waiting by the phone.

Smiling to yourself and preparing to shut the device and sleep, it pings in your hands once again.

From: Aizawa Shōta

It’s also a nice excuse to see you.

~~~~~~

The days leading to the date seem to drag on endlessly as you count down to the night where you ask him what the fuck the two you were and could be. Keigo makes good on his promise and meets you for lunch a few times; his presence is surprisingly helpful as he casually offers advice. 

“I just don’t know what to make of Shōta not mentioning the fact he remembers parts of that night without telling me– he’s totally hiding something.”

Keigo eyes the leftover scraps of food on your plate with begging eyes before he peels them back in shock. “Are you gonna finish– Wait. Shōta?? He’s letting you use his first name?”

You slide your dish to the man and shrug slightly in explanation he had offered you to speak casually. “Can’t you ask Kayama for that video? Toshinori explained she had her phone out all night with the camera open.”

Keigo doesn’t hesitate to finish your food before you can change your mind. “I tried, but she won’t give me it.” He wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin when you pass him one from the dispenser. “Said she couldn’t show anyone the video ‘cause of some promise.”

You rub your chin in thought for a few moments, reviewing the behavior. “A statute of limitations for a blackmail video between friends is definitely suspicious… someone probably told her not to share it for a good reason.”

“Probably Tsukauchi–” Keigo starts before loudly sipping the last few drops of his drink and sloshing the ice around in the cup. “The stuckups at the police department would probably chew his ass out for having fun.”

It’s a reasonable explanation that you and Keigo agree on before continuing your usual conversations. 

The week also progresses with you taking Shōta up on his offer; his first name foreign on your tongue at first but slowly relaxing into it. You only work late at the office twice, and both times his car sits idling in front of the building with the seat warmer already on and awaiting your arrival. 

Each one gets progressively more casual as you settle into a comfortable rhythm of talking about your days outside of the little snippets you’ve begun texting each other about. It becomes funny class stories, cafes you want to try out, and even movie trailers that seem interesting or potential flops. 

The drives also increase in length, the route he ‘blames his GPS for’ takes additional detours and pathways that make the 20 minute drive turn into 30 and then 35. You don’t mind it though; his company quickly becomes something you crave and grow accustomed to in a way different from that of your friends or Keigo. 

Each time he drops you off also ends in around 20 minutes of sloppy makeouts. 

It starts with a simple smile while his lips linger on yours as you say goodnight but make no effort to leave; his car is always parked in a visitor spot rather than the ‘5-minute passenger drop off’ lane in front of your complex. What starts as a few pecks when you meet at the console ends with his tongue down your throat and the windows fogged from the heat. 

It’s enough to make your lips chapped and swollen for the amount of biting and sucking he does against them. The act is somehow more sexual than the first time despite the fact he leaves no new bruises and manages to reign himself in before you can offer for him to come upstairs. 

The erotic and sensual scene leaves you weak at the knees, your panties a mess, but your head full of frustration as you quickly deduce this was becoming a ‘situationship’ which you had no desire of being. Hell, you would even settle for friends with benefits if it meant some sort of label could be placed on whatever the fuck you two were.

But there wasn’t. Each time you parted for air Shōta would open his mouth to speak before doubling back and having a distant look in his eye as he seemingly talked himself down. It’s obvious he’s pent up and just as curious as you that creates such intense frustration in your bones.

When you hestiate to speak, his lips chase yours and he slithers his tongue inside; when he pauses to contemplate, you tug him by the hair to meet your mouth once more. Chivalrous hands never make an effort to escalate past first-base while he has you pinned against the car door in the hottest makeout you’ve ever been in. 

He hasn’t even undone your blouse buttons yet, but each time you end the ride with such a sloppy and desperate kiss, it leaves you feeling as if he’s already fucked all the air out of your lungs.

~~~~

By the day of the date rolls around, you’re a slighlty nervous wreck as you sit in a lecture on campus.

Class is particularly excruciating this morning; your professor droning on about a proposed memorandum to an act you’ve never even heard of as you snap yourself awake several times. It’s a lecture in which none of your friends are in, and the room is so small you can see the laptop screens of everyone else from your tucked away corner position in the room. 

Online shopping, answering externship emails, and reviewing the menu of the restaurant over and over again is the only way to pass the time until the course wraps up and you’re the first person out of the room. 

It was the final class of the day on your schedule, and walking out of the law building lobby towards the campus gates you spot Jackson in front of a vending machine. Idly choosing between two beverages, you tap his shoulder and shuffle to the opposite side with a grin.

“Ah, you got me.” He turns back to the selection buttons and presses the code for a bottled coffee. “You ready for tonight?”

You lean against the metal and watch as he takes a few long sips of the drink with a grateful sigh at the caffeine. “Ready as I can be, though maybe I’m not ready for after…if he decides it’s something casual.”

Jackson nudges your shoulder and pulls out his cellphone to check his course calendar and mentally plan the easiest route across campus to the art & humanities building for his music elective. “Aw you’ll be fine y/n. If you’re free this weekend I can try and throw a part–”

“–Ha, thanks, but I’ve got to meet with some defense lawyers from the villain case I’m assisting with.”

Jackson nods and offers you a reaffirming pat on the back as he slides on his headphones for the trek across campus. “Alright, alright. But I’m gonna pry every detail out of you during our next study session!”

You smile as he heads off before making your way to the metro station near the school to head home. You’ve got a few hours to get ready before Shōta picks you up for your reservation at 7; Keigo has already offered to be at your apartment at around 5 to help you get ready.

Of course ‘helping you get ready’ is more of an excuse to get out of work early and eat the food in your house while watching reality TV. Music plays on your phone as you finish up the last few steps of a long ‘everything shower’ and Keigo whines against the bathroom door as you take your time.

Steam fogs the mirror and when you click open the lock of the door, he immediately shuffles in while pushing you out of the way. “Damn woman, how long do you need to shower?”

He doesn’t wait for you to leave as he lifts the lid of the toilet seat and haphazardly undoes the fly of his jeans to take a piss. You roll your eyes and grimace while stepping out and examining the damage to your living room. Throw pillows on the floor, your stashed bags of chips empty and thrown about, and a few cans of soft drinks litter the coffee table.

“Seriously Keigo?” you yell back to him while shuffling into your bedroom.

The toilet flushes and Keigo sighs slightly before washing his hands. “I’ll buy you more.”

Lotion and body oil on, hair dried and falling casually; you sit on the floor, still wearing your bathrobe in front of your mirror. It’s a giddy feeling to do your skincare; the feeling intensifies once it’s absorbed and you start on your makeup. The look is casual face products with your eyes being a bit smokier with a few touches of under eyeliner. 

Makeup completed, you move to your closet to grab the dress you had already decided on wearing several nights ago and toss it onto your bed. It’s a simple formula you’ve worked out given the amount of Google Maps photos you’ve stared at in order to get an idea of the restaurant vibe.

A black off the shoulder long-sleeve mini dress, black opaque tights, and slight heeled boots are the aspects of the outfit. Every friend you’ve sent an image to has approved, and stepping out of your robe and into the garments leaves you feeling confident despite the nerves building. If the date were to end in the worst possible way, at least you would look hot in the process.

You toss your robe over your door to dry and step into the living room while digging through your purse when Keigo briefly looks up from his position in front of the TV and nearly drops his freshly opened beer bottle onto himself. 

“Oh, hey you done– woa.”

He shamelessly stares and sits upright, placing his drink on the coffee table as you smile and do a little spin. “Sooo, how do I look? I clean up nice, right?”

Keigo opens his mouth and shuts it a few times as he takes in the image in front of him. “Yea I mean…shit you look…yea–”

You laugh and walk further into the living room. “Perfect, that’s the reaction I was going for.”

He admires your figure a moment more before looking up to meet your eyes. “You and Aizawa are friends, who get to makeout while you wear that? Remind me why I never got this perk in our friendship?”

You take a pillow from the loveseat and throw it at him; he catches it with a laugh and before you can scold him a notification pings on your phone. 

From: Aizawa Shōta:

After-class training wrapped up sooner than expected. I’ll be there shortly.

SHIT

Keigo sits upright on the couch to tease again before you nearly patch out to dig through your purse and run to the kitchen. “Keigo, where did you put my–?”

He hops up and runs into the kitchen ahead of you, signaling to the counter. “Two tequila shots already prepared for us.” A coy smile on his lips. 

You pull out your chapstick with a grateful sigh and slide it back inside your bag. “I wasn’t gonna say that, but… ok”

Keigo holds his smirk and slides you a glass; no salt or limes prepared, though you’re not picky given the time crunch. Grateful for the liquid courage, you down the shot with a wince and look at the glass bottle on the counter. 

“Another?”

Keigo laughs and picks up both empty shot glasses and puts them in the sink. “Uh, maybe not the best idea considering the last time we had tequila.”

You nod with a pause; if Keigo was the one telling you to lay back, it must be pretty serious. “Ok ok fine– I’m just nervous~”

Keigo peers over from his spot at the sink and splashes his fingers at you while mocking your whining pitch. 

You flip him off and scurry backwards away from his hands. “Ugh, asshole! I’m gonna have a heart attack here– how am I supposed to face him?”

He wipes his hands down on your old kitchen towel and leans against the counter with his hip. “Like I said earlier– he’s a guy.” Keigo points up and down to your outfit. “And you… look like that.– trust me, he’ll be just as nervous and into you, as you are to him.”

A slight blush on your cheeks from his compliment, you shrug humbly and pull the hem of your dress down slightly. “Yea but, I like him. Of course I want him to think I look good.. But I also want him to actually like me.”

You watch the way he gives you an earnest smile and drags his eyes up and down one last time before glancing the other way with a slight cough. His voice is lower and slow. “You’re fine, y/n. He’s seen you plenty of times in your work clothes and now even your bummy hangover outfit–and he still proposed coffee and this date.”

He places a supportive pat to your head and walks around to open your fridge in search of anything else that catches his eye. You rummage through your purse and confirm a triple check of everything inside: chapstick, mints, wallet, phone, lip gloss. A mental headcount of how many hours until your deodorant runs off, a ping from your phone makes your heart beat cold. 

From: Aizawa Shōta

I’m outside; no rush if you aren’t ready yet.

..SHIT.

Keigo watches with an amused glint in his eyes as you fluff your hair and breathe out to calm yourself a few times; he takes a few strides to push you towards the door. “Alright, go ‘em tiger.”

“W-wait! Maybe I should brush my teeth again! O-or I think I’m coming down with a fever, I should cance–” Pushing you into the hallway, Keigo blocks the doorframe to prevent letting you scramble back in. “Deep breaths, act natural, and fuck already!”

The door shuts in your face and the lock clicks into place– ah. Keys… you don’t have your keys.

“But my–”

“Text me when you're on your way back and I'll leave it unlocked” He yells through the door. “But if I fall asleep… you’ll have to find somewhere else to spend the night.”

You can practically see his shit-eating grin through the door as he cackles. What have you gotten yourself into?

Mindlessly walking to the elevator as your heart rate spikes to nearly 200 bpm, you pick apart your appearance in the reflective walls of the elevator over and over again. All the hickies have disappeared and you adjust the way your hair falls once again before the doors open with a ‘ping’.

The lobby is colder than you expect, and walking up to the entrance doors you debate running back upstairs and banging on the door to beg Keigo to toss you a jacket. It’s too late though– you spot the familiar black sedan idling in the passenger pick-up zone and watch the way Shōta opens the driver door to stand up. 

It’s happening. This is really happening.

A breath to calm yourself, you push the front door open and step out into the cold. He shuts his own door and looks up to walk over to the passenger side to get your door, pausing when he fully takes in the sight in front of him. 

A blush on your cheeks mirror the one on him. His stance falters slightly at the image of you walking over, trying desperately to avoid ogling too much.

Shōta is dressed in black slacks, a pale blue button up with the top button undone, and a matching black blazer. His long dark hair is styled into a half-bun and his face is cleanly shaven once again; he looks like a dream as you approach the passenger side.

You wave slightly once you get close and flash a nervous smile on your glossy lips. “Hi.”

“...oh! Uh, Hi.” He stutters out once he realizes he’s taking too long to answer. 

Shōta’s eyes never leave you, even after you slide into the seat and he shuts the door for you. The seat warmer is on full blast and his car is impeccably clean; scents of his woodsy cologne fill the air and the excitement in your veins begins to bubble. It’s really happening.

He sits back in the driver’s seat behind the wheel and clicks his seatbelt into place before offering you a nervous half-smile and putting the car in ‘drive’. The buildings begin to pass as the radio station plays a soft jazz in the background.

“You look really nice. Well, you always do but uh–”

“Thanks, Aiz–” you pause to correct yourself. “Shōta. You look really handsome yourself.”

The man glances at you from his peripherals and slides the nail of his finger over the skin of another in an effort to wake himself up if he were dreaming. He accepts your compliment and turns back to the road with a long exhale.

Sitting with your hands in your lap and trying to busy yourself with staring at the scenery, you make an attempt to bring up similar conversation you two would typically have.

“So, how were classes today? Anything crazy happen?”

A gruff exhale as he smoothly turns the car down another street. “Well, if the baseline of normality is one student trying to kill another for simply offering help…I’d say it was pretty normal.”

You chuckle and lean into the seat; the warmth coming from the leather provides some comfort. “Mmmm, I’ve heard a few stories from Toshinori about how rowdy they can be.”

Shōta continues explaining today’s training and how his students were progressing; obviously proud of them despite his tendency to state the opposite. You sit and listen, silently taking in the different atmosphere of this drive than the ones you’ve previously shared.

It felt real. More official and raw than your previous times; the vulnerability noticeable in his body language. Despite having his tongue down your throat on more than one occasion, his hands sit politely at 10 and 2, only ever leaving to adjust the volume or the mirrors. 

Fiddling with the hemline of your dress and looking out the window slightly, you miss the way his eyes dip down to the flesh of your thighs where the fabric ends; he swallows thickly and peels his gaze back to the road. 

“And how was your day? You had classes as well, correct?”

“Oh, it was the usual, nothing too interesting…”

He tilts his head and drags his eyes to meet yours. “It’s interesting to me though.”

Damn he’s smooth.

You’re convinced he’s not even trying to be suave; his gaze is slightly hooded but his tone is deep and honest. A blush on your cheeks, you sink slightly into the seat. “W-Well, I had a morning lecture, bumped into a friend, and did a few tasks for my mentor remotely from my apartment. It’s not nearly as exciting as your life I’m sure.”

Shōta frowns slightly and presses further. “Mmm, did you do anything while at your apartment though? I’m sure you had a few breaks.”

“Ha, actually there’s this stupid reality show Keigo got me hooked on– the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.” Memories of the program come flooding back.

This time Shōta doesn’t react when you mention the man’s name, instead he tilts his head and takes in the image of you in his car once again. “Sounds interesting. Maybe…you can show it to me sometime?”

“Agh, this season is so dramatic too–” you ramble slightly, agreeing but not registering he had inadvertently offered an unofficial second date to be more intimate and private.

The drive to the restaurant is filled with you explaining various drama between ridiculously wealthy women, and while Shōta has no interest in petty celebrity arguments, he greatly enjoys listening to you speak. You’ve basically given him a run down of the first few seasons, hyperbolizing the intensity of the show with drastic hand movements by the time you arrive at the restaurant. 

“It’s such a dumb show– I’m sure it’s staged. Oh! But this one episode–”

The passenger door clicks open as a young valet pulls it back and offers you a hand; blinking slightly in shock, you turn to Shōta who chuckles a few times and steps out. You slide your purse on your shoulder and take the hand, walking back from the car and watching the way your date passes the keys to the employee. 

Guiding you by the lower back, Shōta ushers you inside the restaurant and leaves your side to explain the reservation to the hostess. 

It’s hot. He’s hot.

The way he acts as a total gentleman, and guides you to follow the employee to the table and pull your chair out for you. It’s a fancy restaurant, but not inherently romantic. A few families sit eating, there’s a group of people in work attire for a business dinner, and a handful of friends and couples are scattered at the other tables. 

The lights are dim, but not too dark, and there’s a comfortable background chatter as music plays gently in the background. As you take in the view, silently comparing it to the online reviews for the ambience, you take in the way Shōta sits across from you; shoulders are tight and his spine is arched to a perfect posture as he sits stiffly behind his menu.

“This place is really nice. Thanks for recommending it.”

He peers up and relaxes slightly. “Really?”

“Mhm. It smells really good, and the vibe is relaxing.”

Shōta smiles to himself and places the menu lower; his anxiety slowly melting away as you begin to review the menu as if you haven’t preplanned your meal days in advance. After a few moments of small talk about the dishes, a waitress walks up and offers a trained customer-service smile.

“Hi there, I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Can I bring you anything to drink? Maybe a bottle of red?”

Shōta gauges your pause and responds on your behalf. “Sure. Is there a house recommendation?” 

“I can bring a bottle of Shiraz for you to sample.”

“That’d be perfect.”

The waitress disappears as quickly as she arrived and Shōta nudges your foot from under the table with a slight smile. “I take it you don’t know much about wine.”

You shrug slightly in defense. “They taste so similar anyways. I only buy for two reasons: it’s on sale, or if I'm on a da–” you pause. He looks at you expectantly and you take a breath. “Unless I’m on a date.”

Shōta looks up with an amused smile, obviously feeling at ease. “Ah, that’s nice to know. Maybe in the future we can expand your palate?”

Face flushing you nod and feel yourself settling into the moment. “I didn’t take you for a sommelier.”

“I’m not– and I’m not the biggest drinker either… just a few years of fancy dinners for some pointless higher ups has left me with a bit of knowledge.”

You smile and when the waitress returns with a bottle to taste which Shōta approves of, you order your meals and enjoy the complimentary bread while sipping on wine.

“Sooo, you take all your dates here then?” You giggle, the flush of the alcohol making you both a bit looser. 

He scoffs and takes a sip. “Ha, I actually found this place from Hizashi, or uh, Yamada.” 

You nod, recognizing the blonde man’s first name and bring your glass to your lips again. “Ah, hopefully he won’t think I’m taking his spot.”

Shōta rolls his eyes but holds an amused expression, the evening no longer feeling awkward or forced; instead, ridiculously easy in each other’s company. Your phone pings several times throughout the evening, most likely check-ins from Keigo, and each one you ignore– too wrapped in your company to even think about looking away. 

The waitress returns with your meals and offers if you would like a second bottle; the fact you two had already killed one is a surprise. Accepting the offer, you ‘oo’ over the amazing taste and find yourself getting comfortably warm as your glass is always filled. 

“To be honest, he had talked my ear off about this for a while.” Shōta explains, a pink tinge from the wine making his lip looser than usual.

“Hm? What do you mean?” 

“Well, I mean this.” He gestures to you both. “He had been talking nonstop about finally taking you on a date.”

It’s not a huge confession, but it makes your heart swell slightly as Shōta continues eating, unaware of the exact implications of his words. You lean over the table slightly, feeling a bit flirty. “Yea, but didn’t I propose we come here when we had gotten coffee last week?”

He leans in slightly, “Yea but I was the one that brought it up last Fri–” He pauses and rushes backward to sip awkwardly on his wine. 

Before you can press further, eagerly wanting for him to divulge a bit more, the waitress returns to offer the dessert menu.

You’re definitely a bit tipsy, though Shōta seems to hold his alcohol much better than you regardless; she leaves to give you both a few minutes. 

“Do you need time to sober up at all? We can order dessert.” You offer while glancing through the list of pastries and gelatos listed. Taking a moment to feel just how warm your face was feeling, you spin the bottle of wine on the table around and gulp when your eyes linger on the alcohol percentage of 17%.

Oh shit. How many glasses has it been…?

You knock your elbow back slightly and the purse hanging on your chair falls to the floor; on instinct you lean down to pick it up. Of course you don’t even realize the perfect view down your dress it gives your company. Tits basically pouring out as you pucker your lips in effort to reach the strap, Shōta’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows while blatantly staring. 

He coughs slightly, now staring at your lips as you return to your upright position. “I’m feeling warm, but definitely a good idea to wait a bit. I don’t mind eating something sweet either.”

You don’t look up– too  absorbed in now scanning over the dessert list once again. “Oh really? Do you have an idea in mind?”

“Yea, I do.”

Eyes looking up in curiosity, Shōta snaps out of his trance and frantically searches the now nearly empty restaurant for something, anything to save himself. “The… uhhh… tiramisu? Is really good.”

You both settle on ordering it and the waitress clears the table except for the remaining wine and your glasses; by this point he’s not exactly slick at the glances he makes and you’re feeling maybe too bold considering your current blood alcohol content. 

His second button now sluttily undone as he continues explaining his current hero training schedule for upcoming class events, you flutter your lashes at him and bring your hand up for your chin to rest on. It seems like you’re just super interested in his current routine; in reality you’re using the flesh of your bicep and forearm to smush your tits together a bit more while they partially raise above the already low neckline. 

And as much as Shōta is a gentleman, Keigo is certainly correct that at the end of the day, he’s still just a man. Eyes dart down to your cleavage before peeling them back up in an attempt to be respectful before he glances back down again. 

You swirl the wine in your glass with your free hand and pause to set your spoon on a now empty dish of dessert; Shōta’s years of staring at villains leaves him unblinking across from you, taking in every move. The bottle of wine is empty, and when his story comes to an end, you notice the now quiet atmosphere of the restaurant. 

Most tables are empty, and the waitstaff sits in the back organizing silverware and glasses in preparation to close. You peel your gaze back to the man across from you and offer a sheepish grin at your realization that you had been here for several hours.

Shōta’s long empty glass is pushed away from the edge of the table as he stands up and adjusts his blazer; taking out your phone and standing as well, you notice the time of 10:45 and several missed calls from Keigo. A few texts from him are full of encouragement while your eyes linger on the most recent one.

From: Keigo ;p

Heading out of your apt.

I forgot to leave it unlocked... oops!

Shōta takes a few steps to stand at your side as you slide your phone back in your purse and try to think of a way back into your apartment. You still had no keys to get back home…

“Are you ready to go, y/n?”

You spin and adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder and awkwardly let out a forced casual exhale. “Hm? Oh, yea.. Totally. But, don’t we have to pay?”

Shōta guides you back towards the front doors and gives a small nod to your waitress as she brings a tray of fresh glasses from the kitchen to the bar. “Already did. I just had them use the card I kept on file for the reservation to pay for the meal.”

“Wait–” You turn to him but continue his guidance to the exit. “You really gave me no chance to try and pay, huh?”

“Mhm.”

You laugh at his traditional chivalry and lightly nudge him while the valet runs out to retrieve the car. Shōta makes no effort to stand firm, letting himself be swayed by your small push and leaning right back to remain steadfast at your side. 

Sliding into the passenger seat and grinning when he shuts the door for you, a quick panic ensues within your mind. It’s plausible that Kiego might be able to come back and give you his spare keys… but maybe Jackson would let you crash on his couch? Sleeping in makeup and without pajamas was not the most appealing, but it’s better than sleeping in front of your door until morning when maintenance could let you in.

“Are you alright?” Shōta looks at you as he slides his seatbelt into place and adjusts his rearview mirror.

“Hm? Oh, y-yea…”

He isn’t convinced and keeps his gaze intently on you; the look is so serious that you wonder if he’s stone cold sober for a moment. “Listen, if you’re thinking of a nice way to say you aren't interested in a second date… that’s fine. You can just say it now, it won’t–”

“Wait.” You raise your hands and wave them. “No! I’m not thinking about that at all. I’d love to go on another date in all honesty.”

Shōta pauses and lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God. Ok, that’s a nice reassurance… but why are you looking nervous like that?”

He doubles back on his words when you slide down the visor and flip open the attached mirror to examine your makeup for a moment. With a pathetic chuckle as he slowly pulls out of the parking lot, you take a few deep breaths in attempt to figure out the most casual way of stating you had nowhere to stay for the night.

“I just…I might be–” You start and trail off; Shōta gives you a patient look with some concern. “I am locked out of my apartment.”

There’s a beat of silence and Shōta opens his mouth once before his face slightly contorts in a thought process of how you would have managed that. He slows down and pulls into a parallel spot with ease to allow other cars to pass.

“Can I ask how you managed that? You can’t just forget your keys, right?”

You sink into the seat in embarrassment and fiddle your thumbs sheepishly. “No, that wouldn’t usually be possible. It’s just that...I did have a list of things to put in my purse…and my keys didn’t happen to be on said list.”

He chuckles beside you and raises an eyebrow. “Ok, I’ll bite. What was on the list that was more important than your house keys?”

You purse your lips and look up guiltily at him. “Phone, wallet, chapstick…” He leans down a bit further when you pause. “... mints and my lipgloss. That’s it.”

Shōta chuckles heartily when you complete the packing list and offer him an apologetic smile. “Mmm, those do sound very important.”

“Ugh.. don’t rub it in.” 

You sink down a bit further at his sarcasm until he pauses to look genuinely at your face; the warm city lights illuminating the shine of your hair and lips. His gaze darts down to the hemline of your dress that hugs the upper portion of your thighs before dragging his eyes to the plump swell of your breasts that sit nearly pouring out of the top. 

 He coughs slightly and looks back at the digital clock on the car radio. “What’s your plan then?”

Taking your phone out of your purse and sending another message to Keigo, you note that he hasn’t sent a message in 90 minutes, and sigh slightly. “I can see if my law school friend is awake… or I can always wait in the lobby of my apartment until maintenance comes in at 7am.”

“No way, you’re not just going to sit in your lobby alone for hours on end. Does anyone have a spare key?”

You fiddle with your thumbs again and look down. “He’s not answering…”

Any resolve or self restraint that Shōta had been holding in is now completely drained. You don’t even need to say the name to know you’re talking about Keigo. Shōta knew you two were close friends– a camaraderie similar to nearly that of siblings, but that didn’t stop the ugly and vile envy that always coursed through his veins whenever the name was mentioned.

It was childish to feel jealous of a friend who you firmly trusted, and the mentor to one of his own student’s internship, but Shōta couldn’t help it. ‘Keigo this’, ‘Keigo that’; it was half of the topics you happened to ever talk about. The way you two were physically comfortable also rubbed Shōta the wrong way– though none of it was inherently romantic or sexual, it still made the older man insecure. 

That night, Friday night, had been a tipping point. You came into the bar with him, and had a few drinks before even walking over to the table of your expecting company. Being forced to watch the way Keigo wiped your mouth was too much, and before he could stop himself, Shōta had used erasure on the man. 

It didn’t do anything, other than make Keigo feel slightly uncomfortable, but it was enough for the table to laugh and ridicule Shōta for acting so brazenly. Now sitting here, with you in his passenger seat, texting a man who wasn’t even bothering to respond, was once again Shōta’s tipping point.

The words fall off the tongue with urgency, desperate for you to know you could depend on him to be there for you; to always respond to your texts and calls if you sent any. Shōta can’t even blame the alcohol, himself a relative heavyweight anyways, and he’s not sure there’s anything to blame the sentence on besides the facts he’s just a man trying to make a move on the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege of knowing.

“You can stay with me tonight, if you want.” 

a/n: I KNOW ITS BEEN FOREVER i'm sorrryyy

[I've been traveling a lot on the weekends so I haven't had much time to sit and write -> i'm staying local the next two weeks so i'll be grinding it out i promise]

ALSO: this was supposed to include you staying the night but it got too long so I have to post it as a ch.6 [it's gonna be a loooong night let's just say that ;) ] -> i have it written tho so i'm just gonna wait a few days to post it

i love all your support on this series, it's been so much fun to write it!

likes/comments/reblogs all appreciated and i luv reading all ur comments

LMK if u wanna join the tag list

<3 - oatmeal

tags: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @aizawasbaeee @smashley351 @beachaddict48 @lynnesm @lashaemorow @kriscr0ss @hotvillianapologist @loverofdeepspace

[silverzoomies]

quickie 22 please please please🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Peter Maximoff/Reader drabble: ⚡"Shh, just a little more..."⚡ warnings: dilf!peter, wardrobe malfunctions, awkward boners. this one isn't as filthy as it could be. sorry! i'll try and make the next ones extra filthy as compensation 💗

In one of the mansion’s guest bathrooms, Peter tugs the useless zipper of his dress pants.

Tonight’s the big night. Some millionaire humans are hosting another boring party. Big name politicians. Or business managers. Or whatever. Who the hell knows? Peter sure doesn’t. The last thing he wants is to attend another fancy affair. But Charles told the team it was mandatory. If only to make a positive impression on humans.

Eugh. Peter can’t stand that kinda shit. Playing kiss ass for a bunch of rich assholes. Elitist pricks who don’t care whether mutants live or die. On nights like this, Peter almost sympathizes with his absent father’s extremist mentality.

The team are all dressed up in expensive suits and glittery gowns. They wait together in the entrance hall. Five and half minutes passed since Peter insisted he’d be ready to go.

And, see, he didn’t mean to come back so late tonight.

He only wanted to spend as much time with his daughter as possible. Right down to the last second, Peter immersed himself completely in Luna’s little world. It’s not his fault he rarely gets to see her. His ex Crystal keeps him at such an arm’s length. Peter fears he won’t have a real relationship with the little peanut if he doesn't make the most of every moment.

Again. Running behind schedule? Not his fault.

And the fact that his zipper got stuck? That’s not his fault either. Peter wrestles with the godforsaken thing for another two minutes. He’s driving himself insane with it, since it took him only a half second to dress up in his newly tailored, uber expensive, rental suit.

Which, by the way, Peter won’t hesitate to admit; even though he hates dressing up, he looks ultra sharp. Like a suave, silver fox.

In a superspeed blur, he fumbles with the zipper to no avail. He alternates between squatting and standing. Peter tugs even harder, but the goddamn thing won’t budge. Even more frustrating, he can’t bend over enough to get a look at what’s causing his wardrobe malfunction. Another minute passes. And just when he thinks he’s gonna give up, go out, and give the world a peek at his undies; you come knocking at the door.

Peter’s saving grace. Like an angel from the heavens.

For a half second, the door flies open before Peter pulls you quickly inside by your arm. He drags you into the cramped, guest bathroom with him. With his back against the sink, he takes another half-second to check you out. Peter’s beady, lidded eyes zip all across, up and down your body, admiring your figure in a luxury dress. 

You whisper-shout at him, gesturing wildly with your hands, “What’s taking you so long? Scott’s about to freak out! Our ride’s here waiting and everything. Logan said we should just leave you here!” 

Oh. Right. The party. He almost forgot. Pulling his speedy gaze from your hips, Peter focuses on his cumbersome zipper again. “I’ll be there in a sec. Promise! Jeez. Can’t they all just slow their roll? Someone really needs to teach those guys some patience, amiright?” Peter snickers, grabbing a handful of his crotch, tugging his zipper hard with his opposite, “Motherfu-”

“You...uh...having some trouble?” 

You cross your arms, cocking a hip to the side as you watch his thick fingers fight his zipper. Peter rolls his eyes.

“Nope. I just felt like goin’ on a date with Pamela Handerson before our big night. What’s it look like??”

Cracking the briefest hint of a smile, you shake your head and wave your hands dismissively. “We don’t have time for this.” You note.

"You're tellin' me. I just can't get it to-" Peter stiffens as you step closer, pressing your curvy body against his, "Oh, hell-o."

With the stressful determination of a mother on school picture day; you double check the rest of his suit. Your gentle hands smooth the faint crinkles in his dress shirt, doing the same with his jacket, adjusting his tie - all before bringing your hand down to his crotch. Following a short apology, you blindly feel for that pesky zipper. On accident, you grab a firm handful of something else.

Peter jolts in place against the sink, canting his hips into your touch. In a flash, he latches a strong grip around your wrist. The corners of his eyes crinkle with fine lines as he playfully narrows his gaze.

“Whoaaa, there. Easy with the merchandise, baby.”

“Whoops! My bad. I'm just trying to help.” You raise a quizzical brow, challenging Peter with a look, "And who're you calling baby?"

"You is who I'm callin' baby, baby." He chimes in a playful tone, matching your teasing gaze.

He loosens his hold on your wrist, giving you free rein to continue.

After a beat or two, he adds, "And, hey, if you're still down for later..."

"Down? Down for what?"

"Y'know. Shopping for merchandise?"

He notices the way you suppress a riled laugh, ignoring his advances for the time being. You fight with his problematic zipper for a solid minute or two before ultimately sinking to your knees. Perching yourself on the floor in front of him, nose to crotch, you lean in as closely as you can. Peter feels blossoming heat flare up in his cheeks. Swallowing hard, he rests his hands on the edge of the sink behind him.

For a momentary instant, you lean back on with your ass resting on your heels. Peter gets a choice view of your flush cleavage. Pillowy and coaxing him to stare. He gnaws his lip and knits his mercury brows. His dusky gaze follows the motion of you leaning in, practically burying your face in his crotch to get a good look at the pesky pants culprit.

“Uhhh…hey…look, you really don’t gotta-” He chokes, his fingers clenching the countertop tighter.

“Aha! I found it! Just gimme a quick sec.”

A loose piece of fabric caught the zipper. You bring both hands up to try and tear it free, but it still won’t budge. Taking a more risky approach, you pull his fly open, ripping the piece of cloth with your teeth. Peter shudders as a sublime tingle races through his body. Warmth swarms in his groin. A more vulnerable expression overtakes his worn, rugged features.

“Oh my g-...uhm…babe…it’s cool. Seriously. You can stop now. I won’t hold it against you. Thanks for tryin'. I’ll just take one for the team and-”

You pull back again with a focused whisper, squinting your eyes.

“Shh, just a little more...”

“N-No. I’m not foolin’ around. I really think you should call it quits before-”

“SHHHH! Wait, I got it!”

It’s not until your teeth shred the fabric, freeing the zipper at last - that you realize he’s pitching a tent in his pants. Your hand rests over his crotch, and you can feel him pulsing hotly under your palm. Freezing in place, gaping at the (impressive) bulging sight before you, you steadily tilt your head up. Your pretty eyes peer at Peter with partial caution, and partial curiosity.

When you meet his sluggish, wide-eyed gaze; Peter has a hand covering his mouth. Staring down at you, his face burns blazing hot. He pauses, running his hand up from his mouth and through his silver hair, mussing the clean look he took so much time (a few microseconds) to style.

"Okay. In my defense-"

"Been a while?" You taunt him with a flirty chuckle.

Peter tips his head back, exhaling a throaty laugh, "Yeah. Been while."

[eddiesxangel]

HOE HOE pantyHOES | Eddie Munson x Reader

CW: Christmas theme smut. idk what else to tell you; read it and find out. minors dni 18+ only.

Word count 1.9k

You sat in front of your vanity mirror, frantically preparing for Steve’s annual Christmas party. You got home late from work and had to pick up dessert from the bakery before heading home to get ready. Now, you managed to get yourself half dressed before getting distracted by your hair and makeup.

You heard a knock on the front door and yelled for them to enter. You were expecting Robin to pick you up tonight; she probably got fed up waiting in the parking lot for you.

A muffled “hello” was barely audible over your Christmas carols. You reply with a “in here!” As you fixate on the sequinned black bow to the back of your head.

“You’re not Robin,” you smirked, seeing who poked their head through your bedroom door.

Eddie stops in his tracks as his eyes drink in your body. You had managed to get into your matching black bra, panties and black stockings but nothing else before you remembered you needed to fix up your makeup.

“Uh- sorry, I uh- I’ll wait out here.” he quickly looks away before shuffling around the room, clearly flustered.

“It’s okay, Ed’s, I’m almost done,” you shrug.

“You sure?” He still isn’t looking at you, but his cheeks are red like Santa’s.

You stand up and walk towards him; your dress is on your bed.

“Yea. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” you give him a coy smile because technically you are fully covered; your black opaque stockings are just like leggings, and your bra is like a bathing suit.

“Sure, yeah.” He peeks up to get another look.

Fuck, did he like what was in front of him. You managed to pull off cute and sexy all at the same time as you step into your dress and slowly pull it up your body.

“Can you zip me up?” You ask, turning your back to him.

Flustering Eddie was one of your favourite things to do.

He doesn’t say anything; he just steps closer with shaky hands to accept your request. You feel him slowly brush your hair off your back and over your shoulder out of the way. You could feel his breath hit your bare neck before he bravely bent down to kiss where your shoulder and neck meet.

“Eddie,” you moan. The visible chill of the kiss apparent over your flesh.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he jumps back. And you can’t help but giggle.

“It’s okay, Eddie, baby. Just zip me up?” You asked again in the most sickly sweet voice and you feel his hands quickly tug in the zipper of your holiday dress.

Baby. That was new. Eddie fixated on the way the word fell off your lips. It was so sweet he could almost taste it.

"You ok?" You look over your shoulder to see a look in Eddie's eye you hadn't seen before.

Something primal had taken over Eddie. It was like he was entranced by you. He felt his hands run up the sides of your thighs and under your dress. Feeling how soft the stockings that encased your legs were. He ran his hands up higher and higher to where the waistband met the skin of your soft middle.

More goosebumps covered your body as Eddie didn't say a word while tracing your figure with his calloused fingers.

"Mmmm, Eddie," You softly moaned, filling the silent room with the most beautiful sounds Eddie had ever heard.

"Yeah, baby girl," he whispered as his soft lips grazed the same spot he had kissed a moment ago.

"We- we are going to be late." You stuttered.

"We are already late; we will blame it on the snow." You felt his hands brush the straps of your dress off your shoulders so it landed on the bedroom floor.

You stood there in just your bra, stockings and matching panties before you felt Eddie push you forward so you were bent over for him, your ass sticking out, so much so, that Eddie could see the outline of your thong as the thin material spread over your perfect ass.

Eddie bent down so he was at eye level with what he wanted. "Oh, baby," you hear Eddie whisper under his breath before placing a firm hand on each cheek. Moulding and massaging the muscle.

A small smack echoed in the quiet room when his hand came down and lightly hit your bottom, wanting to see it jiggle. You arched into the feeling. The Christmas party you were supposed to be getting ready for suddenly slipped your mind. The only thing consuming your thoughts was Eddie's strong hands on your body, and you wanted more.

"You like that baby girl? I can give you more. Just say the word." He hummed as he trailed a finger lightly down the seam of your pantyhose.

"Yes," it was small, but Eddie still heard it, allowing him to do what he's wanted since he met you.

You felt Eddie's lips graze over your covered pussy; you were already so wet it was seeping through the two thin layers of material that were covering what Eddie wanted most. His hot tongue licked a strip from your clit to your hole before humming into your centre.

"hmmm, I can already taste how ready you are for me…Tell me, baby, that's all for me? I did this to you?" he massaged his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Yes," you breathy sigh as you push back into Eddie's hand to create more friction.

"Now tell Eddie what it is you want?" He sat up and kissed the bare skin of your back right above your waistband.

"Please touch me," you sighed.

"Sucha good girl; I think you made it on the nice list this year." He praised as he cupped your wet heat. "But after what I'm about to do to you, I think you'll be on Santa's naughty list for sure," He growled in your ear before his fingers hooked into your tights, ripping them open and exposing your bare ass.

"Eddie!" you scolded. Those were the only pair you had left without any runs in them.

Eddie ignored you as he hooked a finger around your thong, moving your panties to the side. He was so fixated on your wet cunt being centimetres away from him.

He could smell your heat radiating; it was intoxicating. He took in the picture-perfect sight in front of him. Wanting to memorize every detail. Your pussy was so pretty, he committed it to memory.

Eddie didn't waste another second before diving in. He ate you like a man starved. His warm, wet tongue had you crying out with pleasure as it grazed your inner lips, to your throbbing clit, and back down again.

"Fuck this is the sweetest pussy I've ever tasted," Eddie said before giving your ass another light smack. You moaned with pleasure. The sensation only made you wetter.

"Eddie, please," You panted.

"I don't know, naughty girls don't get presents." Eddie slowly massaged your clit with his index finger as he teased your hole with the tip of his thick thumb.

"No! I'm a good girl; I've been such a good girl." You protested. Your cunt was throbbing as it clenched down onto nothing.

Eddie stood back up, his body towered over you, and you felt his arm wrap around your chest to help you stand up straight.

"Eddie, wha-" you were cut off, being spun around and pushed back onto the bed, only this time on your back.

You could see the sheen of your slick coating Eddie's chin as he glared down at you.

You slowly spread open your legs while you move your panties to the side. You let Eddie take you in before circling your swollen clit with a manicured finger, hoping to taunt Eddie into giving you what you wanted. You wanted all of him.

With this new angle, you could now see how strained his cock was in his jeans; the looked so tight around his waist you knew he was dying for some release.

"This is mine" Eddie smacked your hand away from your clit before replacing it with his own. "This is my pussy." he repeated.

"Then take it." You command.

You hadn't seen Eddie move so fast since you had known him. His pants were down in half a second before leaning down and plunging into you, bare.

You both let out screams of pleasure as Eddie entered you. Your hot, wet cunt felt so good wrapped around Eddie's long thick cock. It was hitting places inside of you that you hadn't known existed. It was like it was made for you.

"Oh my god, Eddie!" you cried as his cock continuously brushed the walls of your cunt. Each stroke built that feeling in your lower tummy.

"Take it, baby girl, you're gonna take all of it." He gritted through his teeth. His eyes concentrated on where his cock was disappearing inside of you. The delicious feeling of your cunt wrapped around him was too good to be true. His dream girl, beneath him, looking so cute and fucked out just for him. It had him almost cumming in seconds.

"You're doing so well, baby, taking me so good, I'll have to give you your present. You want that?" He chides, cupping your face with one large hand.

You nod your head dumbly, getting lost in the feeling of Eddie's cock and words.

"Say it, baby girl." His thrusts were getting harder and deeper.

"I want my present." you pout. God you were so fucked out you didn’t even know what you were saying.

"Good, just gotta cum for me first, then I'll fill you up nice and good." Eddie leans down to kiss you for the first time. You moan into his mouth while his tongue slips inside, and his fingers find your clit again.

The coil that built up in your lower tummy finally snaps, and you clench down on Eddie's cock, making it so much tighter to keep thrusting into.

"Fuuuuuuuuck baby girl, that's it; keep cumming on my cock, and you'll be back on the nice list." Eddie's hips kept pounding your sensitive cunt, prolonging your orgasm.

Your body jerked and spasmed under Eddie's weight before he finally came inside you.

"That's it, sucha good girl, you deserved every last drop." he slowly ground his hips into you, pushing his seed all the way in before pulling out.

You moaned at the loss of him inside of you.

"Don't worry, baby girl. you'll still have me in you." He winked before helping you stand up. He put your thong back over your pussy lips and helped you discard your ruined stockings, before zipping it up your dress.

You look at the clock on your bedside table.

"Fuck we are so late!" you rush to grab your coat, giving yourself a once over in the hallway mirror. Shit. All that time running to fix your hair and makeup was wasted. You look thoroughly fucked out.

"Eddie!" You whine, trying to fix your smudged red lipstick as Eddie hugs you from behind, kissing up the side of your neck.

"Sorry, can't help it. Need everyone to know that you're mine." His hand grazed behind you and cupped your cunt again. Feeling his cum that had now pooled in your underwear.

“Ok, I'm ready.” You sigh as you turn. It was like he had you under his spell. Eddie smirked with pride as he opened the door for you, only to see an angry Robin standing outside your door.

"You said you would be ten minutes!" She yelled before storming back to the running car she had been waiting in for the past twenty minutes.

Shit. Busted.

Master list

[8ttached]

pretty laced dress

pairings - fontaine x blk woman

warnings - 18+ smut minors dni!! bathroom + mirror sex, oral (fem receiving) overstimulation, not proof read, aave mentioned in story.

word count - 830

a/n: hey guys!! i just wanna say thank you for 100+ followers?! i feel so honored to have so many people enjoy my writing thank you thank youu!! im trying to ease my way back to being more active on this account and having you guys know a little more about me but just know my reqs are definitely open right now so help a sister out with recommending some writing prompts (smut or not id be glad to write them) but dont hold it over my head i still have a life yall (T0T)

summary: it's your anniversary night with Fontaine and as you guys are getting ready to hit the road, your boyfriend couldn't get enough of the black lacy dress you slipped on. after seeing your boyfriend get needier by the minute he realizes you two have a little time to spare.

(reblogs and comments are most definitely appreciated!!)

“Hey baby, can you help me with this dress?” 

Today marked your 2nd year anniversary with fontaine and what better way to celebrate than a nice dinner between the two of you. This was your second time trying on this dress. the black, thin, tight dress that complimented you in every way. From your deep skin tone to your delicate curves, that dress had your name written all over it. There was one problem though, the zipper. The cheap zipper on the back of your dress. Not only was it hard to zip up yourself, but when you tired, the zipper would never budge. Which is why you called fontaine into the shared bathroom

You were too focused on the zipper to notice your observant boyfriend standing by the door, quietly admiring you from head to toes. By time you got impatient you turned to the door getting ready to yell out for him again only to get startled by the tall, male figure leaning on the door frame. 

“Holy shit Fontaine don't scare me like that!” your freshly done nails laid on your chest while you catch your breath. “My bad ma, whatchu need help with?” Fontaine asks, his hands slowly wondering on your hips. “Can you zip the zipper in the back?” ignoring your boyfriend's rough hands wondering from your hips up to your waist. “Mhm” he lightly nods, his hand not leaving your waist. The zipper started from the bottom to the middle of your back and Fontaine loved it. He loved how well it complemented you. Your glistening, defined back, the gold necklace clasp that hung down the back of your neck, he loved Everything. Sure, he was quiet, but his thoughts were sure loud as hell and It took everything in him not to blow your back out right then and there.

He took his time zipping up your dress, admiring what everyone else wanted but definitely couldn't have. He hums quietly. “You so beautiful baby.” you cheese at the compliment. “Thank you baby.” you smile looking towards him through the mirror, noticing his eyes glued on your back. “I could blow your back out right now.” he whispers in his raspy voice. You gasp. “Fontaine!” you yell out. “what, I can't admire you right now..” he trails off as he gets distracted. He observed how your dress hugged your curves, how it shaped your ass perfectly. He really could stare at you for hours. “Ya think we got a lil' time to spare?” you feel his warm breath on the crook of your neck before you feel light kisses from his thick dark lips. The only thing he did was breathe on your neck and already he has your ass under his spell. You take a deep breath eagerly nodding your head. “Uh huh.. but we have to be quick” You take a deep sigh. 

“Then lemme not take this time for granted.” you feel his light grin against your sensitive neck

There you were, bent over the bathroom sink getting your pussy eaten by the starved man behind you. The bathroom was filled with muffled moans and high-pitched whimpers. “fuck taine!” your spread legs caused the dress to stretch from the floor. “Mhm, my perfect lady, you’re so sexy” Fontaine mumbles against your soaked pussy as he grips your ass tightly earning a shaken hum from you.  “Mm- I'm gonna-”

“Mhm, There you go, let it out, baby.” 

his vibrated praise sends you through your 1st orgasm. after what felt like only minutes you were losing your mind. From the Hickeys and bite marks all over your neck and collar bone, your ass stinging from each smack and passionate grip, to your man eating your sloppy pussy as if he hasn't eaten in days. all of it was becoming overwhelming. “t-too much taine please..” you whimper as you grip the bathroom counter, desperate for support. Throughout the orgasms you’ve given out, he didn't let you catch a break, let alone your breath.

 “Mm mm, i know you can take a baby, i know you can.” he slips his middle and ring finger inside your sloppy cunt. 

Everything felt intense but so good. Everything Fontaine was saying was going out one ear and right out the other until you felt a smack against your ass.

“Taine- gonna cum again!” you yelled out. Arching your back, pleading for more. 

“Thats right ma, let it all out mhm i got you” 

was all you could hear before you clashed into yet another orgasm.

the ringer on your phone interrupted causing you to fall back into consciousness. “Just in time” Fontaine whispers as he pulls your lacy black panties back up and your dress back down over your ass. You look up at the mirror noticing his obvious boner in his pants. “Wait, taine what about-”

“i can wait till later tonight” he kisses your temple, grinning at you. 

“Now fix ya self up, we gon be late.” and so you did.

[ttheggrimrreaper]

Gagamaru x reader (Fem!)

Romantic fluff ❤️

I made the mistake of loosing the ask box request 😔 apologies. But they requested fic was That Gagamaru gets wet during the winter time and female reader is super helpful

Part 2

The first snow of the year had arrived. Slowly cover your yard in a thick blanket. Resting your chin in your palm as you watch the snowflakes dance. You only looked away when you heard a zipper being zipped up. Looking to that direction you saw Gagamaru currently throwing on his zip up hoodie.

You had initially invited him over for studying,, not that you got any done, that usually happened between you two, you would just talk, so entrapped in each other's words, at least from your perspective that's what's you thought. Gagamaru handing you a larger coat, that would keep you warmer than a zip up. It wasn't that cold out side, above freezing even,

"Gagamaru,.. why?" You huffed as you put on the coat, why in the world does he even want to go outside!?

"Hurry up, it's important to take breaks from studying." He replied, kneeling over to tie his shoes.

"not that we got any done." You snapped back, a teasing quip. However your cheeks flushed when he continued to tie your own shoes. He did small things like this often buying you a coffee when he buys himself one, grabbing your coat for you before you can. Occasionally even zipping it up for you. But nevertheless, neither of you ever mentioned it.

Gagamaru held the door open for you, you nodded in thanks. Pouting when the cold air and snow hit your face, turning your head down and looking at your feet. Just a break huh? 5 minutes.. that's all you could do in this weather. The sound of rushing water over your head from your drain pipe, from the rain last night. it was an old pipe.. the water would gather on one side, then rush down and plop out before it should due to a large crack in the pipe. The only reason you knew this, is over the summer and such when in rained and it would then rush out, you were often getting drenched, so you set a stone right before that spot so you would remember where it was, and not get drenched.

However when you looked to Gagamaru... Who was standing on that same stone, your eyes widened. "Gin! Look ou-" you were cut off by a large splash, and a gasp. The water had already fallen, the zip up hoodie soaking it in, Hair soaked as well. Gagamaru looked at you blankly, as though you had over reacted. You lept into action, running to him and pushing him inside. He would stumble, but you would still push. No one was getting sick today, not on your watch.

Forcing him out of the hoodie as he sputtered out words. He wasn't stuttering, just trying to speak around the fabric that you were tearing off of him. "slo- Do- down!" He huffed, you threw the wet hoodie into a corner. His shirt? Not a lot you could do, same with his pants... At least he socks were fine. Gagamaru looked relieved when the hoodie was finally away from him.

"alright, You, go grab a blanket and sit down. I will make some tea, any particular type?" You said as you pulled off your shoes, then your coat.

"no."

"no as in, no tea, or no particular type?

"I mean no, to it all." He stood, shaking his head and whipping the snow from his hair.

"no? You're gonna get sick!!

"it's not that big of a deal.."

"uh yes it is!?" You were not going to stand by and let him get sick when you could have forced a blanket onto him to get warm again. It was like this every single time, something bad would happen, you would try to fix it, and he would say no until you caved. But not this time, nope. You were gonna hold strong this time."Maru. Just sit down!" You waved your hands expectantly. In response, Gagamaru just walked over and hugged you. As comforting as it was, you knew what it was.. just a ploy to get you to cave in.

He followed you around like a puppy, and whenever you would shove the blanket into his arms, Gagamaru would set it back down somewhere. It would appear as though he wanted to get sick. Finally though after a while of mindlessly turning around, throwing a blanket over his head, you sat down. He sat down next to you, finally... This could be your chance. Scotting over to press against his side, you threw a blanket over you both. It was a small win, but a win is still a win no matter how big or small.

"Maru.." you started, you were conflicted between wanting to hug him because, well he's your best friend, and wanting to punch him because he makes things difficult. He hummed in response, resting his head on top of yours. "You're a pain in the ass, but... I love you."

"love you too Y/n"

Master List

[sylusonychinus]

Episode 8: Fragments of the Past

Series Masterlist

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Reader’s apartment, casting a soft glow over the small space. She stretched, exhaling a slow breath. A day off. A real, honest-to-god day off. It felt strange—almost foreign—not waking up to the sharp buzz of her pager, not rushing up thirty floors to deliver coffee or clean up after the untouchable Sylus Qin.

She tied her hair up as she moved around the apartment, gathering the mess she hadn’t had time to deal with all week. The worker dorms weren’t anything luxurious, but they were hers. Her space. Unlike the penthouse, which constantly smelled like expensive cologne and trouble, her little apartment smelled like fresh laundry and something simple, something warm.

She had just finished sweeping when her phone vibrated on the counter.

Chris: Day off? Let’s hang. Your treat. 😜

A soft laugh escaped her lips as she leaned against the counter, typing back.

You: What makes you think I have money?

Chris: You live in a billionaire’s penthouse.

You: I WORK in a billionaire’s penthouse.

Chris: Same thing. C’mon, let’s go. I’ll even let you pick the place.

Reader hesitated for a moment. Maybe she should just stay home, enjoy the quiet for once. But the idea of being alone with her thoughts for too long didn’t sit right. She had been spending too much time in Sylus’s world. Maybe some normalcy was exactly what she needed.

You: Fine. But you’re buying dessert.

Chris sent back a dramatic crying emoji, and she rolled her eyes, grabbing her coat.

The streets of N109 were always alive, always moving. The towering shopping district boasted some of the most expensive brands in the world, filled with boutiques that dripped in gold and excess.

"Man, what are we doing here?" Chris whistled, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he eyed the storefronts. "I can’t even afford to breathe in these places."

Reader smirked. "Then maybe stop inhaling so much."

Chris snorted but followed her lead, weaving through the busy streets. It wasn’t until they passed a familiar boutique that she faltered.

The same one where Sylus had zipped up her dress.

Her stomach twisted, memories rushing back—the feel of his fingers against her back, the slow glide of the zipper, the way his lips had ghosted over her skin just before he stepped away.

"You okay?" Chris’s voice snapped her back to reality.

She blinked. "Yeah, just… I was here before. With Sylus."

Chris raised a brow. "Oh? That kind of shopping trip?"

"Not like that," she huffed, pushing past him. "It was for an event."

"Uh-huh."

She ignored his teasing and kept walking, but the memories wouldn’t stop. Maria’s cruel smirk. The way she had belittled Reader in whispers, making sure Sylus wasn’t paying attention.

"Pathetic. You actually think you belong here?"

Reader clenched her fists.

Maria had done everything in her power to make her feel small. And yet… Sylus had never once looked at her like she was out of place.

Even if he was frustrating beyond belief, even if his teasing drove her insane, he never made her feel lesser.

"You’re making that face," Chris said.

"What face?"

"The 'I’m thinking about my ridiculously rich fake fiancé' face."

She scoffed. "I do not have a—"

"You do."

"Shut up, Chris."

They wandered deeper into the district, ending up at a quiet little café nestled between the towering storefronts. Reader ordered an iced coffee, Chris got some overpriced fancy drink, and they both split a plate of pastries that neither of them could pronounce.

"Alright," Chris said, leaning back. "Let’s talk about something fun. Like how I’m gonna be rich one day."

Reader snorted. "Oh yeah? What’s the plan?"

"Marry rich. Obviously."

She laughed, shaking her head. "And here I thought you had ambition."

"I do. I’m ambitious about being a trophy husband."

They ate, they talked, and for the first time in a long time, Reader felt… normal. No billionaires. No auctions. No fake engagements. Just her and a friend, sitting in a café, wasting time like any other person.

After lunch, they wandered into an ice cream shop, a small place tucked between luxury boutiques. Reader picked her usual flavor, while Chris experimented with something ridiculous that had gold flakes in it.

"You’re seriously eating gold?" she asked.

Chris took a dramatic bite. "Tastes like capitalism."

She shook her head, smiling as they made their way toward the river. The cool breeze rolled in as they sat on the railing, ice cream in hand, looking out at the water. The Onychinus Casino loomed in the distance, its golden lights flickering against the darkening sky.

Chris let out a low whistle. "You ever wonder how people like Sylus end up with everything?"

Reader was quiet for a moment before answering. "They take it."

Chris hummed. "Yeah. Makes sense." He glanced at her. "So… what’s the deal with you and him, really?"

She exhaled. "It’s complicated."

"It always is."

She hesitated before speaking again. "Before all this—before Sylus—I had a different life."

Chris stayed quiet, waiting.

"I was in an accident years ago. A car crash." She swallowed. "I don’t remember much from before it happened."

Chris frowned. "You lost your memory?"

"Not all of it. Just… pieces." She stared at the river. "Some things are clear, others are just—gone. It’s like trying to remember a dream that slips away the moment you wake up."

Chris didn’t say anything right away, just watched her. "And Sylus?"

Reader let out a small laugh. "He’s impossible. Frustrating. Arrogant. But sometimes…" She hesitated. "Sometimes, I feel like I’ve met him before. Like I should remember something about him. But no matter how hard I try, there’s just—nothing."

Chris didn’t push. He just sighed, stretching his arms. "Well, if he’s as rich as he is annoying, maybe he can buy you new memories."

She snorted. "If only it worked that way."

The city lights shimmered in the distance, and for a moment, she let herself get lost in the quiet.

That night, Reader tossed and turned, caught in the grip of a dream that felt too real.

She was small. Cold. The scent of rain filled the air.

A voice called out to her, muffled and distant.

"Don’t cry."

Her chest ached.

The dream shifted.

The sound of tires screeching. Glass shattering. A sickening crunch.

Pain.

She gasped, body jolting upright, heart pounding.

The memory was gone before she could grasp it, slipping through her fingers like sand.

But the ache in her chest remained.

And somehow, she knew—whatever she had forgotten, whatever was buried in the past—it wasn’t finished with her yet.

Taglist: @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @seris-the-amious @paninisstuff @mysticcollectionvoid @animegamerfox @mcdepressed290 @fries11 @placeholdddddd @madam8 @demon-master-zero @the-reaper472

[idontplaytrack]

hey, feel free to ignore this if you don’t write for her, but we are STARVED for Gretchen Weiners x Fem!reader on this app, so if you have any ideas that’d be great

✧ Zipper

Gretchen Wieners x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, some coarse language

In which reader has a favourite hoodie, and its zipper doesn’t work properly anymore. Gretchen is curious, but never asks why reader has refused to get a new hoodie.

Your eyes were searching for Gretchen’s car in the mess of students, teachers and their vehicles once school let out. Everybody was rushing to leave school grounds, considering that it was now officially Fall Break. She’d came to pick you up, yeah. You went to a different school, but even then the both of you have been dating for almost two years now. You were in the same middle school together though, so yes, you did know the incident between Janis and Regina. You saw the kiss with your own eyes, you saw the aftermath unfolding into a shitshow of a mess. You saw Janis get relentlessly bullied and you’ve never been able to look Regina in the eye without feeling an immense amount of anger ever since.

So, lucky for Regina, you were not in North Shore High.

Finally, you see her car pull up at the pickup point, so you walk towards it quickly. “Hey!”

“Hi, babe.” She smiled, leaning over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek, “Let’s go for lunch, I’m excited.”

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. “Me too.”

“Anywhere you have in mind, mamita?” She asks.

“Uh, no, actually. Why don’t you pick?” You suggested.

“Okay!” Gretchen smiled brightly.

And so you and Gretchen wound up at a nearby pizza place to get takeout, then were on the road again to get to a park. Once there, she popped open the trunk and urged you to sit with her there.

“Oh, a picnic.” You chuckled.

“Yep.” She nodded, opening the pizza box and offering you a slice.

You asked, taking a bite of the pepperoni pizza, “Do you remember the last time we did this?”

“Of course, we were on our first date. Well, official first date. Before that was um, G ditching us at the coffee shop by making up a lame excuse.”

Gretchen laughed, “We were so awkward.”

“Well, I was. I could barely get my words out and talk to you.” You bit back a laugh, taking another bite of the pizza.

“I mean…look at us now.” Gretchen beamed, “You want something to drink?”

“Ooh, yes please.” You nodded eagerly.

“Dr. Pepper or Ginger Ale?”

Both were your favourites.

“Ginger Ale.” You took that can from her, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Cheers.” Gretchen cracked open the can of Dr. Pepper and took a swig. You finished off the slice, swirling the can in your hand while your free hand played with the strings of the hoodie you had on.

“Hey, babe, I’ve got a question.” She said, covering her mouth with a hand since she was chewing her food.

“Yeah, shoot.”

“I’m curious. Why do you always wear this hoodie? The zipper’s broken.”

“Oh.” You chuckled, “Um, my- it was my Dad’s. I’d always wear it so it kind of became mine. He um, passed away freshman year of high school in a hit and run. So I just— didn’t want to get rid of it yet. It still works fine, I just can’t zip it up, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Gretchen’s face fell and her heart clenched, “I’m sorry, I—”

“Gretchen.” You chuckled, “I’m fine, I mean, I miss and all. But I’m okay, you know? I can talk about him. Actually— you said Regina dug up shit on me…not in these exact words— awhile ago, no? This didn’t come up?”

“No.” Gretchen shook her head, “All she had were school photos.” She was a little annoyed though, at the mention of the blonde.

“She must know I’m like— not rich.” You scoff, “I’m not gonna be surprised. But I really don’t want you to stay friends with her because you’re scared.”

“I actually did talk to her about y’know, cutting off our friendship, but she was crazy high on pain meds and all giggly. I don’t know if she remembers but that was a week ago— I told you that, and um, the next day I was sitting with Karen at lunch and Regina just sat down at our table but she was…nicer than usual. Like, actually, she didn’t say anything mean about other students, or to us.”

You nodded, “That’s…amazing.”

“Yeah, she might be starting to change for good now.” Gretchen shrugged.

“Hope so. It’s long overdue.”

Gretchen hums in agreement, “But in the meantime, she did bring us together, so that’s one good thing from her.”

“Good point.” You laughed, “Hey, should we watch a movie tonight?”

“Ooh. Why not?”

“You wanna spend the night at mine?”

Gretchen grinned, “You know I would never say no to that.” You laid your head on her shoulder, “Getting to spend more time with you is great.”

“Yeah, I wish we went to the same school, honestly.”

“Maybe college.” You pointed out.

“Yup. We’ll never know what might happen after all, the future’s still undecided. Hasn’t happened yet.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[hazbmymhotel]

I promise, this image is NOT a spoiler, but I did make me laugh way too hard

Chapter 11) Zip, Zip

 

“So, Angie, I'm actually royally pissed!” Cherri Bomb opened the top of her latte to dump in a coffee liquor. “You always said if you ever got married, I'd be there!”

 

“He was bleedin’ all over the place, was I supposed to call you?” Angel leaned back, sipping his own cappuccino.

 

“Uh! Yes!!” Cherri recapped her drink. “Especially since it's this guy!!”

 

Husk looked up, a madeleine in his teeth.

 

“I thought you were just gonna fuck him.”

 

“He's old fashioned,” Angel lied. “Plus I've never been married before. I figured it'd be fun!” He grabbed Husk's chin and leaned down, biting off the other half of the cookie.

 

Cherri laughed into her hand and shook her head. “He's ancient.”

 

“We're the same age,” Angel argued, swallowing his mouth full. “I've just been in hell longer!”

 

“I'm also sitting right here,” Husk informed her.

 

“You look rough,” Cherri told him directly. “Like, not only the shit Angie’s insane brother did!” Angel winced quietly as she went on. “But you look like a rug!”

 

“Brutal,” Husk sighed, sipping his breve.

 

Angel jumped to his defense, “Husker isn't sleepin’ well!”

 

“Oh!!” Cherri was more interested now! “Are you two knocking boots all night?” She squealed as Husk’s blush showed through his fur. “Ang. Is he good?”

 

“So good!” Angel gushed. “I'm gettin’ spoiled, it's gonna ruin me.”

 

Cherri lowered her voice and leaned in. “So are you seriously quitting porn? Word is that Valentino is losing his fucking mind.”

“How'd you find out?!” Angel asked in surprise. “It was that sketchy director wasn't it?”

 

“Travis,” Husk bristled.

 

“Seriously? That's what you know about my videos?” Angel looked at him flatly. “My foot-obsessed-director?”

 

“He's a piece of shit!” Husk answered.

 

Cherri snorted. “The old pussy cat's right, though. It was totally Travis. He's whining about it online!” She showed Angel her phone. “But how'd you pull that off??”

 

“Through marriage. It's complicated, Cherri, I kinda wanted a break from explainin’ all my bullshit…It's been a long day with Nickie and other fuckin’ garbage.” Angel sighed and crossed his second set of arms. “Plus Husker isn't allowed to sleep anymore, so that's gonna be a whole thing.”

 

“I bet I can still sleep,” Husker said with a huff. “It's probably an overreaction.”

Now Cherri was even more confused. “... Because of all the fucking?”

 

“No, because he got all wrecked up by Nickie! See! I didn't wanna talk about it!!”

 

“You brought it up, Baby,” Husk said, but wrapped his tail around Angel’s leg. “But it's probably just PTSD or some shit.”

 

“Does PTSD make people scared of zippers? It don't make no sense,” Angel crossed his arms tighter.

 

“I mean, PTSD made me scared of egg salad for a good few years,” Vaggie swirled her cup around. “But what did zippers do?”

 

“It's a man covered in zippers. I think they're his skin,” Husk answered with a shudder.

 

“Oh, hot though,” Cherri grinned, “How many dicks do you think he's hiding?”

 

“Fourteen,” said Angel, “but he ate them all.”

 

Husk shuddered again, fluffing his wing nervously. “Not every time I fall asleep is a nightmare.”

 

“Do you think Vaggie might be full of shit?” Angel asked. “Over exaggeratin’ a bad dream?”

 

“They're just fuckin’ dreams,” Cherri agreed.

 

Husk nodded. “...But maybe I should stay awake until we figure it out.”

 

Angel sipped his cappuccino and considered. “Yeah, you've been sleepin' like 14 hours a day since your contract with Alastor broke, Husk, you sure about that?”

“Well he's a cat!” Cherri laughed. “What's he supposed to do?”

“To be fair, I was on morphine for like 5 of those days…” Husk tightened his tail around Angel’s leg.

 

“Do you got any left?” Cherri asked hopefully. “I'll trade you for some uppers. These little babies will keep you awake!” She pulled some pills from her pocket. “Angel, you want some?”

 

“Mmmmnnnnah, I'm actually handlin' sobriety pretty well today! I haven't even drank since yesterday.”

“Fuck. Married life is making you lame!” Cherri looked at Husk. “But how about you, Kitty?”

Husk considered. “I'm probably fine…” he took another sip, but stopped to yawwwn. He finished with a blep, his little tongue hanging out.

“You're so eepy seepy,” Angel stamped his feet as he squealed.

“You're such a furry, Angel,” Cherri said, even though she was equally charmed. “But seriously, you look like you're about to konk out, old man.”

Husk sighed heavily. He looked at Angel Dust, and then at Cherri’s hands. “What is it?”

“A bunch of good shit!”

“I got morphine back at the hotel…take it if you want it…is this gonna fuck me up?” Husk reluctantly held out his paw, letting her drop several multicolored capsules into it.

“Oh, yes it is!” Cherri shouted excitedly.

Angel tried not to look concerned. “I mean, you think he can handle all that, Cher?”

Cherri waved her hand at him. “Pshaw, he's old enough to be my great grandpa. Right, Huskee, you can handle it.”

“You can seriously just call me Husk,” he told her firmly. “But if it'll keep me awake…” Husk swallowed them with a mouthful of his drink. “It's not like it'll kill me.”

“Sure, right,” Angel said, tossing his coffee cup into a trash bin. “Are you two fuckers ready to go out then? We'll wanna be somewhere loud when those kick in…Husker, you're probably gonna wanna dance.”

 

“Oh?” Husk hopped to his feet, catching himself from falling with his cane. “I'll definitely take up less space on the dance floor now–Baby, you don't have to look so sad every time I bring up my wings.”

Angel covered his mouth and looked away slightly. “I'm not.”

“Oh my God, Angie, you're becoming a tittering mom to this old dude. You sure you don't want a pick-me-up? Maybe a little coke??” Cherri checked her purse.

“Cherri, for fuck's sake, I'm not doin’ it no more, so stop askin’!” Angel grit his teeth.

“Sorry, sorry, fuck! I'm not used to you bein’ all responsible.” Cherri sucked her teeth and stood up. “Are you still drinking at all? Or are you completely boring now.”

Angel scoffed and reached out for Husk's empty cup, tossing it away for him before storming outside. “I think I need a drink to deal with this today.” He rubbed between his eyes.

Husk watched him stand outside of the coffee shop, ears back.

“What the fuck is his problem?!” Cherri directed herself at Husk.

“Coming down is hard,” Husk said simply, “he's been without for almost two weeks…it's a hard hump to get over.”

“Could you go give him a hard fucking hump so we can get on with our day?!”

 

“Sex won't solve withdrawals, sweetheart,” Husk felt a prickling in the back of his head. “Just give us a minute.” He walked himself outside, lightly touching one of Angel’s arms.

“Hey,” Husk said, voice soft and gentle.

Angel frowned before turning his hand, reaching to hold Husk’s. “...hey.”

“Do you want to ditch her?” Husk kissed his fingers.

Angel laughed a little before frowning again. “No…getting off this shit is hard, Whiskers.”

“I know.” Husk rubbed his cheek against the back of Angel’s hand. “We could go home.”

“Charlie will harass me into doin’ somethin’ today…I don't think so.” He squeezed Husk's hand. “Can we go to a club? I wanna see you dance like an idiot on drugs.”

“I get the feeling I'll be doing that anywhere we go,” Husk said, kissing up his arm.

Angel giggled and swatted him off. “Okay, okay, let's go.” He turned and waved at Cherri to come outside. “Stop fuckin' offering me drugs today, bitch.”

“Fiiiine,” Cherri hugged Angel’s arms on his other side. “I just wanna show you a good time, you know that!”

Angel sighed. “Yea. I know. But not today. Today I wanna remember my husband lookin’ stupid.”

“Then let's gooo!!” Cherri said, tugging them forward with her. “We're actually early enough to catch some of the fuckin' drink deals today!!”

In spite of the bright red daylight outside, the club was dark and only lit up with cool, flashing colors. The music was thumping out enough to make Husk's wing twitch each time. He couldn't make out the words, but it didn't matter!

 

Instead, it felt good. Husk's brain had started to itch, and the music was scratching in a satisfying beat. He heard Angel laugh, which made him feel warm. Cherri yelled something about his footwork.

Husk was pretty sure at some point he'd gotten his hands on a trumpet, and he jammed out to the music while the crowd howled in excitement. It reminded him of a time he was high out of his mind in a club in Chicago back in the early 40’s.

Husk was barely focused on what was coming out of his mouth. He knew he was sat between Cherri and Angel Dust. He couldn't keep his hands off of Angel’s legs. “You're gorgeous,” he said over and over.

“Enough about that! I wanna know about Chicago!!” Cherri demanded.

“Oh, fuck, I was 12 years into a dead marriage, and I was just craving something different and wild! I hadn't done magic in ages, and I completely crashed my own stage!!” Husk realized there was a drink in his hand, so he gulped it down. “I was so fuckin’ embarrassed, but when I was having a drink after, I got to playing. Some asshole handed me a saxophone, and I fucking love blowing horns.”

 

“I fuckin' bet you do!” Cherri squealed.

 

Angel was enraptured, hanging on every word.

“And this little twink comes up to me, he's in the tightest fucking outfit I've ever seen,” Husk was offered a cigarette, so he took it. “And he's hanging all over me, saying how much he loved jazz. He asked if I had jungle fever!” Husk laughed noisily.

Angel looked horrified, but it seemed more internal than anything else.

“Baby, you good?” Husk asked, but Angel leaned over and kissed his face.

“Tell your story, sugar.”

Husk took a long drag on his cigarette, trying to focus again. “It was my first time with a guy, and he knew what he was doing! He fingered himself in front of me and sucked my cock like a champion.” He tapped the ashes into a tray Cherri offered. “When it got down to it, I think I fucked him half the night! I can't believe how long I could throw this kid around.”

Angel fanned himself, looking pleased and embarrassed.

“And I thought, well shit, how did I waste so much time on just women!?” Husk found his hand rubbing up the inside of Angel’s thigh, so he squeezed. “Men are so fucking hot!”

“Yea, that's SO true!” Cherri took a shot.

“Didja ever get his name?” Angel asked, gripping Husk's wrist.

“I can't remember, I was so fucked up! And I had another engagement in Indianapolis the next day, so I had to dip before he was even awake.”

“But you left a queen of hearts on the dresser with a ‘thanks for the lay,’ note on it,” Angel provided.

“Yeah, I–” Husk's ears perked. “Did I already tell this story?” He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. 

“No!” Angel laughed nervously, holding his head. “No fuckin’ way, Husk!”

Husk stared at him in confusion, the drugs seeping into his brain. “Do you wanna dance, beautiful?”

 

Angel laughed harder, covering his face. He nodded dumbly and let Husk drag him onto the floor.

“Those two,” Cherri rolled her eye, grinning.

Husk was sure Angel was having fun, hearing him shout eagerly as they danced. He registered Cherri joining them again!

“I'm gonna go get us some fresh drinks!” Angel shouted. “Keep an eye on Husker!”

“We're fine!” Cherri yelled back, turning to grind on some massive wolf.

Husk was enjoying how the music made him sway…until he stepped forward onto concrete. He grabbed for the cane hanging on his arm, and it wasn't there. Lights flickered between green and yellow, the crowd disappearing and reappearing with each flash.

“Oh shit,” Husk stumbled back, grunting as he hit a mass.

“Watch it!” A nondescript voice shouted.

Husk stared straight ahead as he saw it. The music faded away, replaced with the sounds as it began to approach.

Zzt…Zzt…Zzt…

He could see it closer than ever. Its face zipped up and down as it walked, revealing a large red orb hidden in inky blackness. Husk turned and bolted, abandoning his cane on the dance floor as he left on all fours.

  

Angel Dust laughed and shimmied his way across the dance floor. He saw Cherri’s hair and made his way over. “Got you a cocktail, toots!” He looked around, frowning in confusion.

“Uh, Cherri?!”

 

“Yes, bitch?! Want me to pay you?!”

 

“No! Where’s Husk?!”

 

“Huh!?!” She stopped dancing to hold her ear towards him.

 

“Where is my Husband?!?!” Angel stepped back to find him, stumbling. “Oh, shit,” he bent down to grab his cane. Another demon grabbed his hips as he did, grinding into Angel’s ass. He turned and smashed his drink into his head, “do you fuckin’ mind?!"

 

“Jesus Fucking Christ!!” The demon shouted, holding his face as he sprayed blood over the spider.

Angel shoved him back and started searching at knee level, looking for a hint of Husk anywhere.

“Oh for fuck's sake, he's fine!” Cherri stepped over the writhing demon to chase after him. “You're worrying too much!”

“He hasn't done anything hard since he was alive over forty fuckin’ years ago, Cher!” Angel shoved through a group, seeing a flicker of red outside.

 

Husker fell back onto his ass, kicking into the floor as he tried to find his footing again. He grunted as he hit a wall, dizzy from how fast his heart was racing. He clutched his chest, sure he was going to have a heart attack like the one that killed him.

 

It leaned down, wrapping it's lanky fingers around Husk's ankles.

 

“There you are!” Angel said in relief. However, Husker looked worse for wear. He was having a full blown panic attack on the sidewalk, shoved against the wall of the club. “Way to go, Cherri,” he yelled at her before moving to kneel next to him. “Husker? Can ya hear me?”

Husk's ears twitched and he opened his mouth, only to scream as he was dragged by his leg into the road.

“Can he normally run on his back?!” Cherri was actually alarmed now.

“Uh, No!” Angel was tired of her attitude today! He grabbed for Husk’s hands and pulled him back–

Husk watched in utter terror as the Zippered man buried a hand into the tuft of his chest.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT

 

“JESUS FUCK!” Cherri leapt back as there was a fountain of blood erupting from Husk’s chest.

Angel stared. Time slowed down…it was becoming easier to trust his hands to do what they needed. He shoved at the empty space above Husk, finding they collided with mass.

“Ah, ah, Angel?” Husk stared at the red sky above them. “It's raining?” Blood rained on his face in fat droplets, warm and comforting.

“Cherri, come make yourself useful, Fuck!” Angel demanded, directing her to hold his chest closed.

“Did he just fucking unzip his own body?!” Cherri was too high for this!

“Just hold it!!” Angel gripped at his own fur, letting out a grunt as he yanked out a long string. He bit it off with his teeth.

“Angel! What the fuck is going on?!” Cherri was definitely too high. “What the fuck are you gonna do with Yarn?!”

Angel ignored her and pressed it against Husk's chest, feeling stupid, but trusting his gut. Like a sewing machine, the string worked itself into Husk’s skin in a stitch.

“Oh, Fuck!” Husk yelled, closing his eyes tight.

Cherri sat back, letting out a breath. “Angie. Seriously.”

Angel clutched Husk into his lap, staring at the empty space in the road. For a brief moment, he'd seen it. “Fuckin' hell, Cherri.”

Cherri took a moment, pushing her bangs out of her face with a bloody hand. “...Sorry, Ang. I fucked up.”

Angel leaned down, pressing his face between Husk’s ears.

“Is it gone?” Husk asked, finally daring to look up again. “Did the rain stop?”

Angel breathed out shakily. “We're goin’ home.”

“Let me…let me call you a cab,” Cherri said. “It's the least I can do.”

“I fuckin’ got it,” Angel said sourly, pulling out his phone.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Enter the Competition

(for @tmntstorycomp )

Ms. Morrison clung to the arm she was holding, as a cacophony of noises assaulted her ears. She hadn’t been out in crowds much since she’d lost her sight, bus trips to and from doctor’s offices with the help of disability services, and friends and neighbors being about her only outings. She was confident enough around her home, but outside of it she was uncertain. All of the noise didn’t help either, making it hard to pinpoint where things were.

“Easy, Ms. M, I gotcha.” Raphael gave her hand a squeeze and patted her arm. “Me and Donnie are right here with ya, and we ain’t gonna leave your side.”

She was lucky that, wherever she was, Raphael and Donatello had ended up with her. They were good boys, and she knew that they’d help her out, although she was a bit worried. She didn’t want them to get caught up in things that wouldn’t be good for their future. Good boys like them deserved a good future.

“Where’s Lucy?” She asked, knowing that her cat had come with them, but not sure where she had ended up at the moment.

“She’s sitting on Don’s shel—uh, shoulders,” Raphael said. “He’s trying to figure out how we got here.”

Ms. Morrison frowned. New York City had been quite crazy as of late, with aliens and invasion, and all sorts of things that she had thought was simply another War of the Worlds radio situation, until one of the ladies from upstairs had confirmed that it was real. She hoped this wasn’t another fictional situation turned into reality.

“Any luck, Don?” Raphael asked his brother. Ms. Morrison could hear the undercurrent of worry in his voice.

“None,” Donatello said, an undercurrent of frustration in his. She heard the zipper of his bag, and what she thought was the sound of him putting things back inside it, before he zipped it up again. “No signal on the shell cells, and nothing I do to enhance it works. There are anomalous readings, but there’s also an interference that is messing with them.” He sighed heavily, and Ms. Morrison heard him shift around, and Lucy’s purring. Donatello must have brought the cat into his arms. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to get us home, Raph. We’re just going to have to keep moving and see if we can figure it out.”

One of Raphael’s arms left hers, and she could tell that he was reaching out to his brother. “Hey, it’s okay, Don. You can’t have all the answers all the time. We’ll figure a way out of this one way or another. We always do.”

She wondered about that “always do” part, just as she wondered about many things when it came to these two boys, but as always, she kept her silence. If they wanted to tell her, then they would when they were ready.

In the meantime, the least she could do was try to keep their spirits up.

She tapped on Raphael’s arm. “Can you two describe to me where we are?” she asked them. “It seems like there are a lot of people here.”

“There are,” Raph said. “Lots of people. Most of them, ah, well,” he hesitated, sounding slightly nervous. “They ain’t human, Ms. M.”

“What he means,” Donatello said, “is that we seem to have ended up in a place where there are both humans and non-humans. But there seem to be a mix of ages, and no one seems to be outright aggressive.” She could feel him step a little closer to her and lay a gentle touch on her arm. “I don’t think we’re in any sort of immediate danger. Human or not, they just seem to be… people.”

They were holding something back, and she wasn’t sure what, but Ms. Morrison just nodded. “Alright. That makes sense. If humans can be good or bad and not all the same, then why not aliens, too?”

Some sort of unknown tension seemed to ease in them at that, and she wondered why that was.

“Yeah,” Raphael said, a strange sort of relief in his voice. “That’s a good way to look at it, Ms. M.”

“As for the space we’re in,” Donatello said, and she could practically hear the frown on his face. “It’s big and spacious, and there appear to be some places to sit down scattered about. But there’s also a lot of junk lying around. Toys, gaming systems, jump ropes, things like that.” His voice trailed off thoughtfully.

“Hey, brainiac. Come back to that later,” Raphael said. “Let’s focus on the here and now.”

“Right,” Donatello said ruefully.

“What about that fellow that spoke earlier?” Ms. Morrison asked, redirecting the conversation. “Is he in charge here? He sounded young.”

“Seems like it, yeah,” Raphael said, and his grip tightened on her arm.

“Sounded young, yes,” Donatello said thoughtfully. “But I’m not going to bank on that quite yet. Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Is he human?” Ms. Morrison asked.

“No, he’s not,” Donatello said. “But he does appear to be the same species as a majority of the beings here.”

Ms. Morrison frowned but tucked that bit of information away. “He said something about a competition. Games, entertainment, themes—”

“—a battlefield—” Raphael muttered under his breath and tensed back up.

She continued on. “—what did he mean by all of that?”

“I’m not sure,” Donatello said. “But my guess? All of these different beings here, all of these groups, we’ve all been gathered as some sort of entertainment for the person who spoke. And that entertainment involves us competing somehow.”

Raphael let out a growl. “I ain’t nobody’s entertainment. And if that little punk thinks he can make me entertainment for him, I’m gonna shove my—”

Donatello cut him off before he could finish his threat, although Ms. Morrison had a pretty good idea of where it was going. She wasn’t born yesterday, after all.

“Raph. Let me remind you that ‘that little punk’ wrote some things on a piece of paper, threw them to the side, and items appeared. Twice. Its obvious he’s got some sort of magical ability,” Donatello said. “Best to bide our time and figure out what’s going on.” Donatello’s voice shifted, and Ms. Morrison was fairly certain he was looking around the area they were in again. “After all, someone’s got to know what’s going on here.”

Ms. Morrison gave Raphael’s arm a squeeze, and then reached out, finding Donatello’s and pulling him a little closer to her.

“Well,” she said. “If we’re going to be here, and we’re going to try to figure out what’s going on, then it’s best we start trying to be friendly to people, isn’t it? A little kindness can go a long way.”

Donatello let out a chuckle, and Raphael snorted lightly, the tension broken.

“Yeah, okay, Ms. M. Point made,” Raphael said. “But stay close to us, alright? We still don’t know what’s going on here.”

She squeezed Raphael’s arm again. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m old and blind, not senile,” she said with a chuckle. “I don’t plan on letting either of you get out of arm’s length.”

She heard the brothers chuckle in amusement again, and the group started to move forward. Ms. Morrison still had no idea what was going on, or where they were. But she knew that she had two very good boys with her, and that she would do everything she could to help them as they tried to find their way through this competition and back home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hello!

Ally here, the author of this little piece and the story it comes from, Sanctuary (ff.net, AO3, tumblr), and my story is officially part of the @tmntstorycomp !

Sanctuary is a TMNT 2003 Raph and Don story based off of the season 3 episode, Touch and Go. In the episode, New York City is recovering from the Triceriton Invasion, and Raphael finds himself being chased by citizens who have armed themselves in an effort to protect themselves. He ends up in a dead end, outside of a door. An elderly lady, Ms. Morrison, opens the door and mistakes Raphael as a teenager who was supposed to come over to help her. Being blind, she can’t see that he’s a giant turtle, and brings him into her home, unintentionally shielding him from the alien hunters. Raphael, being the good boy that he is, helps her out, and makes friends with her cat, Lucy.

It turns out that Ms. Morrison is being evicted from her home, as she can’t afford to live there anymore, not since her husband passed. At the end of the episode, Raph goes back to Ms. Morrison with a case full of money that Mikey and Splinter got a hold of during their plotline of this episode, allowing Ms. Morrison to stay in her home.

In my story, Sanctuary, Donatello notices that Raph has been asking him about repairing things that neither they nor April have. Suspicious, he follows Raph one night, only to see him going into Ms. Morrison’s home. He ends up being caught by Raph, and invited in my Ms. Morrison. In the end, Don helps teach Raph how to repair a few more things around Ms. Morrison’s home, and promises to keep his knowledge about Ms. Morrison to himself, so that Raph can have his sanctuary with her.

In this competition, Raph, Don, Ms. Morrison and Lucy (the cat) have gotten pulled into Masaccio’s world with all the other competitors, and now have to make it through and around as best they can!

Let’s hope it all goes smoothly for them!

Or not. We’ll see ;)

(FYI, feel free to reblog!)

[punsmaster69]

7/OCT/20XX

visiting tori today to apologize for.. probably being annoying while drunk.

pretty sure i wrote in my journal that day, but i can't bring myself to read it.

"Good morning, Sans!"

"...nice shirt."

"I was in need of another Halloween-y shirt, so it is just perfect!"

"..Is it depicting what I think is?"

"unfortunately."

"Hehehe! I like it anyways."

"Maybe even more?"

[Aggressive scribbling blocks out a line of text.]

"oh, uh, papyrus wanted me to bring you these as thanks for taking care of me. and, as an apology of sorts."

i handed her a plastic wrapped plate of cookies.

"What for? I am enjoying the shirt, if that's-"

"being all up in your fur yesterday."

[The next sentence had a question mark written then scribbled out next to it.]

"That was an intentional choice I made. Do not apologize-"

"figuratively."

"Oh!"

"...Why do you think you were a bother?"

"honestly ...the last thing i remember was you taking me home. no idea what i was like."

"How.. how much longer were you conscious for? I thought you had passed out in my arms.."

"is that look on your face related to the purple i woke up with on mine?"

"I did not expect it to stick.."

"must've been drunker than you thought."

"..Would you have attested, were you awake?"

"huh? you'd kiss a skeleton while 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳?"

"But would you kiss a goat?"

"you're a real freak, kissin' bones."

"Yet you do not deny any goat-kissing."

"Do you only kiss goats while under the influence?"

[Starts of sentences are written beside the quote, but scribbled out to the point of being intelligible.]

"...did i?"

toriel watched my face carefully, but i couldn't tell what she was looking for.

"If I said didn't mind.. would you still be so worried?"

"why wouldn't 𝘆𝗼𝘂 be?"

"What do you-"

"nevermind."

"what're you up to today?"

"I have yet to plan anything. Would you like to come inside?"

".. where's the kiddo?"

"They are out with Flowey at the moment, so it is just us."

she clapped her hands together.

"Ah! Perhaps you would like to watch a movie with me?"

"sure. what've you got?"

movie boxes clacked softly against as toriel sorted through a drawer on the tv stand. the drawer was dusty, but the movies looked like new.

"Papyrus told me you are into old horror flicks. Do you have a favorite?"

"i'm the guest, so you can just pick whatever you want."

"Is it not the opposite, usually?"

"which one's your favorite?"

Tori looked at the movies for a second, then grabbed one with a cat on the cover.

"..This movie!"

"that's a dark one. kinda shocked you like it."

curious to see what else she had, i started poking around in the drawer as well.

"good pick though."

"...Oh! Sans, what are you going as for Halloween?"

"dunno. why do you ask all of a sudden?"

"I did not see you do anything but write in your journal the whole time everyone was making their costumes."

"probably not going as anything. don't think asgore's dressing up either."

"... Let's find you a costume."

——

"Hehehe! Do a twirl!"

"...not sure this is helping."

"What, you would not like to go as a pretty princess?"

"it doesn't even latch in the back. totally uncouth for a princess."

instead of watching movies, i somehow ended up being dressed like a doll.

"i'm gonna snap this thing in half."

"This one seems like it would fit better!"

she held up an even frillier dress, this time in yellow.

"You would be the 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 of the ball!"

her excitement made it impossible to refuse.

"definitely feeling like a dress-up doll."

"You are pretty like one!"

"can't say i've ever been called pretty before."

"You are pretty to me."

"jeez, this zipper-"

"..Are you alright?"

with a loud snap, suddenly i had a zipper pull in my hand.

i could hear her try and cover her laughter.

"A- Are you stuck?"

"welp. the zip broke right off,"

toriel tried not to laugh as i opened the door, still stuffed into a cheap yellow costume dress.

"so i guess i'm just a princess now."

"I'm sure there's 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 way to get it off. Let me see the back."

"how old are these?"

"I think we have had them since our first Halloween on the surface. I bought so many out of excitement, but Frisk has grown too quickly to put many to use."

"no wonder the thing's fallin' apart on me."

"It's... quite stuck. I'm not sure I will be able to get the zipper back open without tearing."

"I could lift it over your head?"

"..yeah, ok."

holding my arms up, tori grabbed the bottom of the dress.

"Ready?"

"go for it."

nearly toppled from the force, but it definitely came off.

"...I like the stripes!"

"staring's not very nice."

i covered her eyes with my hands.

"these bones n boxers are viewed for a price."

"And what would that price be?"

"a marital ceremony."

"..or twenty bucks. maybe just a few drinks."

"Your standards are awful!"

tori keeping her eyes closed this time, i closed myself in her bathroom to put on 𝘮𝘺 clothes this time.

"This dress has quite the tear now."

"sorry. big-boned, y'know?"

"More likely was that I may have pulled too hard."

"just that eager to get my clothes off, huh?"

"It is sounding like you want to get stuck in another dress."

"might as well just run 'em straight into the shredder at that point; pretty sure that wasn't the first one to end up with a hole in it."

"Frisk would probably not mind either way; they were never a dress person."

"But now there is someone I can buy all sorts of cute ones for!"

"at least a size up next time, ok?"

[ghostgirl87]

⏮️

[ask game]

[under the cut for violence, pokémon harm, and implied pokémon death.]

...2008...

The room beyond the threshold was mostly dark, illuminated only by a large screen hung on the far wall and the faint blinking of consoles. Saturn’s silhouette against the light was unmistakable. He wasn’t alone—someone else, shorter, stood next to him. The low sound of voices was barely audible above the deep rumble of the esoteric machinery the Lake Guardians were strapped to. Dawn waved her hand to get Barry’s attention across the hall, and her motions were quick and crisp as she signed. “The tall guy is one of the commanders. He was at Lake Valor.”

Barry nodded. “What about the other one?”

She shrugged. “Looks familiar though. Definitely a Galactic.”

Lucas tapped her shoulder and she turned. “What’re we going to do?” he whispered. “My team’s in no shape to fight two more of these guys.”

Dawn bit her lip. “I don’t know.” Aria was down for the count—being poisoned twice in a week was hard on a grass type, no matter how tough. Ellie wasn’t fast enough. Callista, Sosthenes, Valeria, and Geist had a type disadvantage. And that was just against Saturn—who knew what pokémon his associate had?

“The commander’s got a toxicroak,” Dawn said. “I couldn’t beat him at the lake.”

Across the way, Barry worked his jaw, visibly running the same calculations. She didn’t have to follow his line of sight to see what he was looking at—she could read it in the downward pull of his mouth, in the scrunch of his eyebrows. He was looking at Uxie.

Dawn took a breath. There was really only one thing to do, wasn’t there? She looked up at Geist, tucked into a shadow on the ceiling. Only her red eyes and the jewels around her neck were visible in the darkness.

“The people in there,” Dawn said, signing clearly and slowly. “Knock them out.”

Geist blinked—and then grinned savagely. Barry tensed, and then his shoulders slumped. Lucas looked between the three of them, not understanding what she was asking.

The mismagius’ eyes flicked toward the room, and then she vanished entirely.

Dawn’s chest tightened, anxiety tensing her ribs and making it difficult to breathe. A heartbeat passed—one, two—and on three someone screamed.

Then, the distinct thud of someone hitting the ground. Geist giggled, her voice echoing, and a moment later she oozed out of the shadows of the room, looking smug.

“Oh gods,” Lucas said.

Dawn stood slowly. Tried not to think about what she’d just had her pokémon do. “Okay,” she said. “We should be good.”

Barry gritted his teeth and started forward. “I’m getting Uxie,” he said.

Dawn looked at Lucas, still crouched on the ground. “Can Nissa heal the Guardians?” she asked.

He worked his jaw for a moment. “Uh, yeah, probably. Maybe.” He stumbled to his feet. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Good.” She looked at Geist, who swirled her cloak in self-satisfaction. “Can you break the locks on the machines?”

Geist burbled an affirmative.

“Okay,” Dawn said a third time. “Okay.”

She followed Barry into the room, moving with purpose to the strange apparatus that was currently ensconcing Azelf. Barry was pulling at something on one of the other machines, grunting and cursing and kicking. Lucas trailed into the room hesitantly, looking around.

Geist drew close, inspecting the equipment, and then zapped it with a jolt of electricity. Azelf’s restraints fell away, and the little pokémon’s head lolled to the side. Their eyes didn’t open.

“Go get the other two,” Dawn said, unzipping her coat, and Geist vanished momentarily before reappearing beside Barry.

Carefully, like she was handling a baby, Dawn picked up Azelf and tucked them against her chest, letting their head rest on her collarbone. Holding them with one arm, she reached down and fiddled with the zipper of her coat until it caught, and then zipped them up. They were so cold.

She looked over to where Barry was doing the same to Uxie, using his scarf as a makeshift sling. Geist was breaking the lock on the last machine, where Lucas stood over Mesprit, looking anxious.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Barry said, glancing at her and starting back toward the door. “Before these jerks wake up.”

Dawn moved to follow him, and someone behind her groaned. She turned.

Saturn was curled in a fetal position on his side, breathing raggedly. Whatever Geist had done, it had been effective.

Dawn paused.

Geist’s cloak, fizzling with poison.

Helpless magikarp, flopping in the mud, asphyxiating.

Azelf, zipped into her coat, shivering and barely breathing.

Dawn took a deep breath—

—drew her foot back—

—and kicked Saturn in the teeth.

[itzpristelle]

Going Back (ft. Blythe and Roger)

Consider this a continuation to 'Butterflies' and 'The Things That Don't Matter'

===

Her week in Suburbia was just the break she needed. A little vacation from work, and a chance to revisit her favorite spots from her childhood. Her neighbors' wondrous cooking, her favorite boutique, and the local tailor shop. The big tree in the middle of the neighborhood where she liked to sketch. Catching up with old neighbors and friends. And the house for God's sake. Garden, bedroom, living room- all the photos, little decorations, and all the memories they held. Everything.

Blythe loved it all. She missed it all.

But knew she couldn't stay in Suburbia forever. She still had her whole life in Downtown City to go back to. Her friends, her job, and the cozy little apartment she got to call her own.

And while she'd prefer to be leisure with the time she had left, she had lots of preparations to make.

-

Blythe tugged and pulled at the zipper, groaning as she tried to zip her suitcase closed. But it was no use.

Oh, why oh why did I buy so many things while I was here?!

"Dad! Can you- ugh-! Please, help me out over here-!" Blythe cried out, hoping her father could hear her.

Footsteps sounded. The door creaked open.

"Blythie? What's wrong?" Roger's concerned face peeked through the door of Blythe's room.

Blythe relented, letting go of the zipper and stumbling back onto the floor, "Help please. I… can't get this thing to close…"

"Really?" Roger kneeled down next to his daughter. He opened the suitcase wide, "Maybe you didn't fold your clothes properly?"

"Nuh-uh, that's how I folded them when I was packing to fly here!"

Roger already got to work on taking every bit of clothin out of the suitcase, placing them on Blythe's bed, "Strange. And are you sure that was exactly the way you folded them? With this exact amount of clothing in it? Because I recognize a few of these from our shopping spree in the Beeline Boutique yesterday…"

Blythe's face flushed a little, "I uh… Look, Beeline Boutique was having a sale, alright Dad?"

Roger cracked a smile "You and your fashion, Blythe. I get it. You know, you really liked that place as a kid. You'd beg me to let you go in there."

"Yup, me and my fashion, Dad!" Blythe repeated.

"Either way, look, here's a way you can pack your clothes so you can fit even more into one space."

"Do teach me. Please?"

-

Thicker clothes were folded flat and normal. Thinner, delicate things were rolled up. Father and daughter got to work, folding and rolling clothes into the suitcase. Not many words were exchanged other than little instructions.

Blythe broke the silence that settled between them.

"Dad?" She said.

"Yes, honey?"

"How much time do I have before I have to leave for the airport?"

Roger glanced at the clock, taking note of the time, "Only 4 PM. I'd say that it's still quite early, Blythie. We have a couple of hours to spare before I drive you there."

"In that case… could we go around town again? One last time?"

"Really? Well of course! Anything you want, really."

===

Day 31: memory lane

Better late than never, right?

I'm gonna have to do a bunch of polishing on the fics before I post them on AO3. Spelling mistakes, totally wrong information, and overused phrases/words/punctuations galore. Lots of things I could have done better.

(Especially Pepper and her thoughts during 'By the Neck' because holy shit. Look, I was really tired when I wrote that, aight? …I was really tired when I wrote a lot of those ahahahaha-)

Soo yeah :)) I thank you greatly for reading and interacting with my little fics, and especially if you've left little comments! I love reading those.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Can u please do smut or fluff of this with rooster or hangman:

Y/n: hey can you zip me up?

R or H: Sure!

...

Y/n: I said zip me up not down

Ooh thank you for this sweet request, I had so much fun with this one!!

The Zipper Incident

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're running late and need some help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.

CW: Fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut. You stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it's probably worth it.

I’d like to think that this little drabble could be a prelude to this fic but it’s absolutely not a necessity to read it first. I just had this particular dynamic in mind while writing this.

You rush out of the locker room in a panic, whipping your head around to see if anyone is still around. Your date is imminent – t-minus twenty minutes and counting – and you’ve spent the last forty-five on your hair and makeup only to suffer a devastating wardrobe malfunction at zero hour.

You’re sure that everyone is long gone but you nonetheless shuffle over to the guys’ locker room on the off chance that perhaps somebody might still be in the building.

Just as you’re coming up on the door, Bradley walks out and you nearly collide with him in your haste.

“Woah!” he yells, holding his arms out in case you wouldn’t be able to stop in time.

“Oh my god, Rooster! Thank god!” you shriek.

Now that he’s had a moment to process the situation, Bradley is blinking at you oddly, his eyes slipping briefly to glance at your dress before reverting to your face.

While you’re flattered that your outfit has rendered him speechless – the guy’s never seen you in anything but a uniform – you hardly have time for this kind of delay. “Rooster, can you do me a favor, please? Can you zip me up?” You turn your back to him promptly and twist your arm behind you to point to the zipper that’s gotten stuck halfway up.

“Uh.” Bradley stalls and you look over your shoulder to see his gaze trailing down your bare back as he tentatively lifts his hands.

“Bradshaw, today!” you urge, bouncing slightly on the spot while you hold up the front of your strapless dress.

You feel his fingers graze your back as he pulls gently on the zipper. “It’s jammed,” he says a little hoarsely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “No shit,” you reply. “Look, I’ve got a date in” – you close your eyes and whimper desperately – “fifteen minutes. Could you maybe put those big, strong muscles to good use?” You throw him a deriding look before glancing pointedly at the arm that's taking up approximately half of your field of view. His bicep is even more pronounced than usual in the tight, black t-shirt he’s wearing.

Rooster exhales slowly, tugging more deliberately on the zipper. “I don’t want to break it,” he says.

This statement gives you pause and you spin around sharply, nearly taking Bradley’s hands with you. “You can’t break it!” you exclaim. “I have nothing else to wear!”

Bradley watches you steadily. “Well,” he says with a small smirk. “Don’t rush me, then.”

You eye him warily before turning back around. “Okay,” you say. “But you don’t have all day,” you mutter when he starts to fiddle with the zipper once more.

His hands stop moving and he clears his throat. “We had a deal.”

You sigh, starting to tap your foot, when your feel his hands close around your shoulders.

“You’re wiggling,” he says.

“I’m anxious,” you retort sourly.

Bradley steps closer until his chest is brushing lightly against your back, and leads you out into the center of the corridor. “I need more light,” he says.

You close your eyes. “It’s a fucking zipper, Bradshaw. You operate a fifteen tonne, seventy-million-dollar government vehicle fifty thousand feet off the ground but this is somehow a struggle?”

Bradley’s hands stop moving. “That fifteen tonne vehicle came with an instruction manual and five years of training.”

“Oh, hang on,” you say. “Let me just pull out my zipper manual. I don’t go anywhere without that thing.”

Bradley snorts. “You’re distracting me,” he says, yanking slightly on the zipper and, in the process, pulling you closer.

You hang your head defeatedly, trying to stay still while he works to fix your dress.

After several moments of silence, Bradley speaks again. “You have a date, huh?”

You stare at the space where the floor meets the wall, taken aback by his question. You and Bradley have but a smidge of history; you met a few months ago when you were brought in for a mission together, and have since been assigned to the same squadron. You’ve flirted here and there, exchanged a few meaningful glances, but nothing more than the occasional tease has ever come to pass. You’re both professionals and, as such, are amply aware that any sort of romantic entanglement would quickly dissolve into a logistical nightmare fraught with more paperwork than either of you would care to complete. And yet, the insinuation in his tone, paired with the intermittent brush of his hands along your back sends a quiet thrill through your body, resulting in a soft blush that heats your cheeks and creeps down your neck. You nervously pat down your hair, making sure it obscures your reddening face before you respond with a casual, “Mm-hm.”

“Anyone I know?” he asks, his thumb sweeping over your shoulder blade as he takes a break from wrestling with the zipper.

Suddenly you’re extremely aware of how short your dress is and how very loosely it hangs around your sides as you clutch it to your chest. “I doubt it,” you say quickly, wondering how you hadn’t noticed the obvious draft coming from the vent overhead until right now while firmly pressing the material of your dress against your rapidly hardening nipples.

“Well, you look nice,” he says, his voice a little rough as he resumes his efforts with the zipper.

You bite down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the shiver triggered by his words. “Would be nicer if I were fully dressed,” you respond flatly.

“Debatable,” Rooster counters.

You swallow uneasily as Bradley continues jerking at your dress. He’s flirting with you now? Ten minutes till go time? After weeks of avoiding every instance of physical contact, including that time you sprained your ankle and he called Phoenix over to help you get to medical instead of taking you himself?

Suddenly, you feel the waist of your dress release as the zipper gives. You gasp, pressing the fabric against your body as it starts to glide.

“Bradshaw!” you yelp. “I said ‘zip me up!’”

“Sorry!” Bradley fumbles with the dress. “It slipped.”

“Sure,” you say with a note of cynicism in your tone.

Bradley chuckles, sliding the zipper back up. “I promise, it was unintentional.” He pauses for a moment, his fingers still holding the clasp even after having completed the task you’ve given him. He runs his palms along your shoulders before they come to rest on your upper arms. “You’ve got a nice back,” he says quietly.

You freeze, trying to come up with an adequate response to the most unexpected of compliments, but you can’t bring yourself to face him because you’re blushing anew. You take a second to gather your thoughts, close your eyes to savour the moment. You’ve completely forgotten about the time and how much of it you might have left because all your concentration is devoted entirely to the gentle sweep of Bradley’s fingers as they slide down your arms.

“First date?” he asks.

You’re furious. You’re livid. Where was all this attention four weeks ago when all that glorious flirting amounted to absolutely nothing. “Second,” you respond curtly.

“Getting serious,” he says wryly, his hands trailing all the way down to your fingertips before they finally fall to his sides.

You chuckle and, although it’s becoming increasingly difficult to restrain yourself from turning to face him, you mutter a quick, “Thanks, Rooster,” while smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of your dress.

Bradley walks around to take a look at you from the front and now you have no choice but to meet his gaze. You give him a tight smile and do a little curtsy and he laughs, shaking his head.

“That’s a hell of a dress,” he says.

You give him a serious look. “It’s not the dress, Bradshaw. It’s the model.”

He grins at you in amusement. “Can’t argue with that.”

You nod slowly, slightly lost in his eyes, when you suddenly remember that you’re running late. “Shit! What’s the time?” You lunge forward to grab his forearm so that you could check his wristwatch. “Fuck! I have to run!”

You drop Bradley’s hand, glancing up at him sharply. He’s watching you with a bewildered expression, as though he wasn’t expecting you to actually leave. “Okay,” he says. “Have a good time.”

You nod and start to draw back, finally turning and escaping down the hall and into the women’s changeroom. Once the door is closed behind you, you sink down on a bench, bringing a hand to your unsettled stomach. The interaction with Bradley has resulted in a revival of that ridiculous crush you had on him when you first arrived on base. You’ve been fairly successful at quashing those feelings, right up until ten minutes ago when Bradley was able to effectively resuscitate them with a vengeance.

You let out a frustrated sigh and start putting away your belongings. You step into your heels and sit back down to do up the straps. Walking over to the mirror, you fix your hair and take a moment to admire your makeup. No wonder Bradley was flabbergasted. He’s never even seen you wear lipstick.

You pick up your purse after shoving your backpack into a locker and head for the door but, when you walk out, Bradley is still there, waiting for you.

You waver on the spot upon seeing him while he hesitates slightly before approaching you. His eyes rake over your figure before finally resting on your face. “I can’t let you go on that date,” he says, his rasp more pronounced somehow, perhaps because he’s trying to keep his voice down.

You gulp nervously, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush. “Why not?” you ask quietly.

Bradley bites into his bottom lip as the corner of his mouth curls upward mischievously. “Because even thinking about you on a date with someone else is making me angry.”

You let out a shallow breath as his eyes focus briefly on your lips. “Why?” you whisper.

You feel Bradley’s hand cup your waist, pressing you gently into the wall at your back while he takes another step forward. He lowers his head and you lift your gaze as he towers over you, as he places the palm of his other hand on the wall behind your head. His breathing is heavier than usual but he comes closer still, caging you in. “Because it should be me,” he says hoarsely.

You lower your gaze but soon feel his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. “You didn’t ask me,” you manage to say despite the distracting pounding in your temples. “Are you only interested because I’m unavailable?”

Bradley slowly shakes his head, bringing his forehead to rest on yours. The hand that’s been leaning against the wall slips down to your shoulder as he takes another step closer and his body brushes yours. “You know that’s not true,” he says.

You put a hand on his abdomen, pushing him away half-heartedly. “I know that you’ve had plenty of opportunities to make this happen and chose not to.”

Bradley brings his hand down on top of yours on his stomach. “Maybe I was intimidated,” he mutters with a grin.

You roll your eyes. “Am I less intimidating in a dress?”

He shakes his head, his smile widening. “More.” His fingers close around yours, still pressed against his rock-hard abs. “But you left me no choice. I had to just bite the bullet and go for it.”

You glance up at him reproachfully. “I’m late,” you say.

Bradley pulls his lips into a frown as his eyebrows crease. “Stay,” he pleads.

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you say. “You’re late too.” You start to peel your back from the wall, forcing him to back away from you.

He takes several steps backward, the disappointment evident on his face. “You don’t want to go,” he says quietly.

You raise your eyebrows. “How the fuck do you know what I want?” you ask, offended.

He watches you piercingly. “I can tell you want to stay.”

“If you can tell, then why didn’t you ask me out before?” you say angrily.

“Because I’m an idiot!” he responds heatedly.

“Well, at least we agree on that,” you say.

Bradley sucks in his cheeks, nodding contemptuously. “Now what?” he asks. “Ball’s in your court.”

You stare at him crossly. “Now nothing, Bradley,” you say. “You didn’t start anything because you knew that it would be a conflict of interest. That, if anybody found out, one of us would end up being reassigned.”

“Who has to find out?”

You close your eyes briefly before giving him a withering look. “Well, now we know where your head’s at.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just want to fuck,” you say matter-of-factly.

Bradley stares at you, speechless for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry, Bradshaw,” you say. “That’s not my style.”

But when you turn to leave, Bradley springs after you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back around. “You’ve got it wrong,” he says. “I promise you.”

You eye his fingers, still wrapped firmly around your arm. “Come on, ‘Nobody has to know?’” You glance up at him disdainfully. “You obviously don’t see a future here.” You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth, recognizing how unreasonable it is to expect him to see much of anything with someone he hardly knows. But his words have caused quite a sting which, in turn, has made you slightly irrational. “You know this is a bad idea,” you say finally, reluctantly.

Bradley takes a step forward, simultaneously pulling you closer. He takes a moment to study your features before speaking. “I know that if you go on your date right now, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” he says with a small chuckle.

You watch him carefully as he brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your eyes. “I’m really late,” you whisper, your hands moving of their own accord to rest on his hips.

Bradley brings his face down to meet yours, his nose brushing along your cheek. “I really want you to stay,” he says in a low voice, his grip loosening on your arm and his fingers gliding gently up to your shoulder.

You lift your face slightly to let him brush his lips with yours. After an excruciating pause during which his mouth hovers tantalisingly over yours, Bradley finally bridges the gap, confidently capturing your lips in his. His fingertips dig into your shoulders as he presses his body against yours, directing you backward into the wall. He leans into you eagerly, his kiss overriding each of your senses as you adapt to its unpredictable rhythm. Slow and deep, then soft and sweeping, evolving with your every movement. His hands twist rabidly into your hair, rough but restrained as he paces himself while you breathe unevenly against his mouth.

He's warm; swathed around you almost possessively; protectively. You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. You pant when he finally releases your lips, struggling to steady your heartrate.

Bradley lowers himself slightly to diffuse kisses along your jawline, the pressure of his lips on your skin quickly escalating as the two of you sink into one another. You open your mouth to sigh against his ear when his hand slips underneath the hem of your dress. “Bradley,” you whine as his finger drifts along the line of your panties.

“Yeah baby?” he breathes, his finger tracing circles into the already saturated lace.

“This is a terrible idea,” you whimper as the most torturous desire pulsates through your body.

“Yeah, baby,” Bradley agrees, continuing the gentle strokes of his finger over your soaking panties.

You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan, fevered and nearly shaking, sweating and breathless, unsteady in your heels. You feel transported but unsettled, euphoric but wanting. You nip at Bradley’s earlobe in response to which Bradley presses his mouth into the crook of your neck and releases a muffled groan. You continue sucking on his ear and kissing his neck and the hand that’s been hovering between your legs suddenly grips into your thigh. You let out a soft cry and Bradley stifles it with a passionate kiss. His hand coasts upward, cupping your ass cheek as he presses himself against you, pinning you to the wall. “Bradshaw,” you murmur against his lips. “Can you do me a favor?”

Bradley’s teeth catch your bottom lip before he starts gently pecking your swollen lips. “Anything,” he responds in his grating rasp.

You let out a shallow breath. “Can you unzip me?”

Bradley’s mouth curls into a smile against your lips as his hand glides down your back. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says softly, pulling on the zipper. “I’m an expert.” You chuckle as your dress comes loose but, a moment later, Bradley mutters, “Fuck,” right into your open mouth.

You pull back to stare at him mutely as he gives the zipper a few more tugs. “Don’t tell me,” you say in disbelief.

“What is it with this thing?” Bradley says in exasperation, spinning you around to inspect the contraption. You giggle, resting your forehead on the wall resignedly but, the next moment, Bradley grabs you by the waist and pulls you in. “Fuck it,” he says, lifting the skirt of your dress. “I can work around it.”

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