#//i think he has SOME idea of it but i don't know how much

[xiaowhore]

equivalent exchange.

DRAFT. this fic is incomplete, as i've stated in this post. this has been sitting in the dungeon for a while, and i have no plans to finish them, but i posted these drafts to not let them go to waste. it is up to you if you still want to read them regardless of their incompletion :) i will be writing my original ideas for the fic at the end so you guys will have an idea of what the fic was supposed to be like.

premise. when ayato stumbles upon a drafted resignation letter on your desk, he doubles his efforts to show you the perquisites of staying by his side.

he doesn't want to lose a competent subordinate. that's all there is to it.

note. what's wrong with secretary kim au but it's definitely not the same because i stopped watching at episode 5 and have no idea what happened. anyways i think we were all expecting a ceo!ayato x secretary!reader fic at some point so here it is. (couldn't keep this gender neutral for plot reasons, so feminine pronouns were used.)

Kamisato Ayato considers himself a good boss.

Or as far as things go, he's a decent one. He treats his employees well, takes them to expensive restaurants for company dinners, and discourages overtime so they can head off early for the night. He doesn't care much for formalities, and he gets along with his colleagues fairly well. He's never heard anyone talk behind his back or complain about his attitude at work, and there aren't any rumors spreading about him (if he turns a blind eye to the conspiratorial gossip guessing his relationship status).

But he does have minor faults. Like showing a more mischievous side when work hours are over. Getting Thoma dead drunk during dinners because his half-conscious inebriated talking is a form of amusement, or riling up Itto in drinking games just because it's funny. Then he leaves Sara to clean up the mess for him, since Yae seems to enjoy the comedy sketch as thoroughly as he does and probably won't lift a finger to help even if he asked her to.

As his assistant, you're prone to falling victim to his shenanigans, silly stunts that coax out aggravated eye rolls and sighs of exasperation. Years of experience eventually shaped you up to be entirely immune to April Fools' pranks.

He's in the middle of planning another one when he spots a letter of resignation on your desk.

At first, he thinks it's your rebellious phase arriving a decade late. He always found it odd how you never retaliated against his tricks, and this may just be the long-awaited April Fools' prank of vengeance. If it is, it's particularly mean of you—Ayato does have feelings, you know? Even he would feel hurt if you told him you wanted to leave! You shouldn't take this kind of thing lightly!

Then he remembers you aren't the type to make jokes, April Fools' or otherwise, and it's that moment when he feels (proper) fear.

“[Name] wants to resign?!”

Ayato makes a zipping motion and Thoma's shrieks immediately die down, but the disbelief on his face has yet to wane. His brows scrunch together, brain hard at work in processing this piece of information, though it seems to short-circuit in utter confusion from the sudden blow.

Scandalized, Thoma lowers his head and levels his voice to a hushed whisper, “Are you sure you saw it correctly?”

“I have able eyes. Unfortunately, my optometrist confirmed my perfect vision and assured I saw it just fine.” Woe is he.

“Get them checked again.”

“No matter how much I check, it won't change the results, Thoma.”

“We don't know that for sure, sir!”

“Trust me,” Ayato deadpans, looking off into the distance, “I checked with him thrice.”

Defeated, Thoma leans back to his chair, crossing his arms while deep in thought. “You saw the letter, but she didn't turn it in, did she?”

“She didn't. No e-mail, either.” Ayato taps the table in a mindless rhythm, expression stern but the shape of his lips almost resembling a pout. “Do you have any idea why she'd want to resign?”

Thoma rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is that a genuine question, sir?”

Ayato's head snaps back to look at his companion. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“...Everyone in the office knows you... tease her for your own amusement.”

“It's my way of showing affection.” The corners of his lips curl up, stretching to a twisted smile as he rests his cheek on his palm. “Isn't she just so adorable when she gets angry?”

“You really do have a rotten personality.”

Ayato waves his hand in a noncommittal response. “We're straying off topic. What should we do next?”

Thoma hums, closed fist beneath his chin. “Since she hasn't turned in the letter yet, that means she must be hesitating. For what reason, we don't know, but it's keeping her here. So before she makes up her mind, we should dissuade her from quitting no matter what.”

Ayato laces his fingers together, brow in an inquisitive arch. “And we do that by?”

Green eyes sparkle with tenacity, clashing with blue irises twinkling in intrigue. “We bribe her, sir. It's time to show off your good points.”

--

“If a woman quits her job, what do you think her reasons could be?”

Ayaka blinks owlishly at her brother, taken aback by the abrupt question. It's a sudden thing to ask, especially odd given how their conversation hasn't led to that topic at all. “Did someone resign? I haven't heard anything of the sort, though.”

Ayato shakes his head, stirring the boba tea in his hands. “It's a hypothetical.”

Which means it's real.

Ah, whatever. At least he didn't go for the “my friend...” excuse.

Ayaka warily cuts a portion of her cake, scrutinizing each microexpression flashing on Ayato's face. It's one of their weekly lunch meetings, squeezed between hectic schedules, and they more or less have a silent agreement to avoid discussions involving work if they could help it. But this time, he brought it up himself.

How peculiar.

“Perhaps she wants to change workplaces? If she's exemplary, she might have been offered a better position or higher pay.”

Ayato nearly scoffs at the suggestion. The company, old-fashioned as it is, can only be inherited by a direct line of descendants. Outsiders can only go so far, and being the secretary for the chief executive officer isn't bad at all. Last time he checked, he's been paying you generously as well—how many figures was it? Six?

“Oh!” Ayaka exclaims, holding up a finger as she seems to have figured out something. “Or maybe she wants to settle down and get married? If her work is keeping her occupied, she'll most likely take time off to find a husband.”

Ayato proceeds to choke on a tapioca pearl.

“Or she got married and wants to be a housewife-”

“That's quite enough, Ayaka.”

Ayato would rather believe the Earth is flat.

--

If Ayato were any less desperate, perhaps he would have rationalized that putting together “give her what she wants to make her stay” and “she wants to get married” is a bad, bad idea.

Unfortunately for him, he is grasping at straws, so it leaves him no choice. Yes. Definitely. There is no other option than this, obviously.

(He does not delve deeper into the reason why he doesn't want you to leave, nor does he dwell any longer on why he was so quick to think he was fine with getting married if it was to you.)

“Don’t you want to get married soon, Ms. [Surname]?”

To clarify, Ayato does not spy on other people's conversations for a hobby, but he's always had impeccable timing. It comes with the job.

He stands by the door, reaching for the doorknob to the break room, but the mention of your name forces him to a halt.

“Why are you asking me that...?” You awkwardly dodge the question, sipping on your coffee. “I suppose I am at that age, though.”

“So you do want to!” The squeal rings with a note of glee, a stark contrast to Ayato's gradually dimming mood. “Wouldn't it be nice to marry a good man? I'm sure even you have thought of it at some point! Are you seeing anyone, then? Anyone you can imagine yourself marrying?”

“No, not yet.”

Before Ayato can even heave a relieved sigh, you follow with, “But my mother is making me go on dates to see people. Said if I didn't bring home a man soon, she'd come all this way to drag me back by my ear and introduce me to her friend's son.”

“Ah, I get that...” Your friend replies emphatically, nodding. “But those kind of meetings hardly go well. And you can't exactly tell your mother's friend you don't find her son attractive, right?”

“Why not just marry Mr. Kamisato, then?” Another one pipes up, to which Ayato gives a mental salute of appreciation. “You spend most of your time together. If you're not married to your job, then you're practically married to him.”

A cackle sends his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Not a chance.”

Can you at least expound why?!

“Huh? Why not? I mean, Mr. Kamisato is on another realm of existence and I can never hope to be on the same level as him, but you look good together!”

Your face pinches to a tight frown. “Look good together? In what way?”

“When you stand side by side, it just looks... right. And like I've mentioned earlier, you spend all your time with him. Why not seal the deal?”

“Mr. Kamisato is reliable, and if you marry him, you're set for life. He's handsome too, and we've all seen his muscles at our company sports day a few months ago!”

“I've never been so thankful for team-building events. Hallelujah.”

Ayato's face burns in embarrassment hearing the dreamy sighs. Even if they think there isn't anyone else listening on them (which is false), shouldn't they exert some restraint at work?

“Please don't lust over my boss,” you assert sternly, voice ice cold. “And we have a strictly professional relationship. So don't get any weird ideas from here on out, alright?”

“Fine. Tell me that again when I'm invited at your wedding, I dare you.”

“I said-”

They wave off your vehement protests at the statement. “Then if you're not into Mr. Kamisato, what do you plan to do?”

Ayato perks up, straining his ears in rapt attention.

“...I'm going on a date this weekend,” you sigh, rubbing circles on your temples. “I'll let you know how it goes.”

Oh no.

--

“-Dinner was nice. We didn't expect the rain shower, but he ran to the convenience store across the street to buy an umbrella because he didn't want me to get wet on the way to the car. He said it would be a waste if my hair got ruined since I-”

Slurp.

“...Styled it for the occasion. Then he drove me home. I found out we liked the same band from the music he played, and we agreed to-”

Sluuurp.

“-Go to their upcoming concert together. Then we somehow also like the same novel that's getting a movie adaption soon, so we also promised to see it-”

Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuurp.

“Could you please refrain from making noise when eating, sir?”

Ayato decidedly does not comply and only slurps his boba tea harder, nearly choking on a tapioca pearl yet again.

As always, you learn to ignore him.

“Concert... and a movie. I'm not sure about the concert, but the film you're talking about is the one coming out in the next two months, right?” Thoma confirms, sweating when Ayato's expression turns visibly grim. “You plan to see him for that long...?”

“Even if dating doesn't work out, we can always become friends, can't we?” You shrug, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “He seems like a nice guy. We get along really well, considering we've only met once. I ended up agreeing to a second date-”

The passive-aggressive slurping persists for the following afternoon.

--

“I've been meaning to ask for a while,” Thoma treads carefully, noticing Ayato's rapid-fire typing—no, striking—on the keyboard, “Ms. [Surname] is good at her job, but you seem really... eager to make her stay, sir.”

Ayato's fingers halt in their movement, and he takes a second to flash his business smile. “Of course. She's a valuable asset, and I'd be foolish to let her go.”

“Yes, I'm well aware, but...” Thoma scratches his cheek, looking off to the side. “You didn't go to such lengths when your former assistants resigned from their post. Or, uh... you fired most of them.”

“Yes,” Ayato simply agrees, still smiling, “she's competent. You don't find anyone like her easily, so it's only natural I'd want her to stay.”

“What do you mean by 'anyone like her,' sir?”

Thoma is awfully talkative today. Ayato might need to feed him something spicy to shut him up.

“Ms. [Surname] is special.” The words smoothly leave his lips. “Does anyone else have the meetings and company events scheduled for the next month memorized? She's the only one I can count on for work matters.”

Thoma's shoulders slump. “Okay, let me get straight to the point. Do you-”

“Mr. Kamisato?”

Thoma nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, accompanied by the clack of your heels.

“What is it?” The cold smile on his face finally melts to something more genuine, softer around the edges and looking especially radiant. It's welcoming, like your arrival counts as a joyous occasion, and he is exponentially more attentive compared to the way he lent Thoma half his ear (the other preoccupied with a phone call, which he swiftly ends the moment you walk in).

“I came to deliver some files from Ms. Miko... did I interrupt something?” You gesture to Thoma standing idly by the side, dumbfounded from Ayato's inconceivable behavior.

“Not at all. Is there anything else?” Ayato accepts the documents, noticing your hesitance to leave.

“Ah, yes, I will be asking for time off tomorrow.”

That's... rare?

But it's not a hard request. Ayato's own schedule is blank for the most part, since the latest project wrapped up not too long ago, and the workload is lighter than usual. Missing one work day won't do any harm.

“It's fine, but could I ask why?”

You fidget, tentative as you reply, “I was invited... for a trip on a cruise. He insisted I come since his friend bailed on him and the tickets would go to waste.”

The warmth in his eyes freezes over.

“The tickets would go to waste...” Ayato repeats under his breath, mockingly cruel. The tone flies past your head but it hits Thoma full-force, making him sweat profusely.

Distasteful. An utter disgrace of a man. The magnitude of his ignorance is so awe-inspiring, I have to applaud. I must give credit where it is due, and the foolishness of this clown is truly impressive. “The tickets will go to waste,” he says? His money must worth more to him than his dignity. Inviting Ms. [Surname] to a date on a workday with no regard for her schedule is one thing, but making her out to be an afterthought as a substitute for his original travel partner is another. How shameful. This is no way to treat a lady. If Ayaka were to be with a man of his caliber, I would never allow it.

But what he says outloud is of course, “I see. I hope you have fun, then.”

--

Corporate events are, for the most part, adequately entertaining.

Preparing for it is not.

But the worst part isn't even brainstorming themes, or finding an appropriate venue, or planning the logistics, or writing the guest list.

It's choosing what to wear.

Actually, the cause for Ayato's headache isn't even what attire he'll go with. It's yours.

“That looks wonderful,” Yae praises, looking at the picture on your phone. It displays a silver necklace, a tear drop topaz encased in a diamond twist. It pairs well with the dress you bought with Ayaka last week, an elegant fit that accentuated your curves.

However.

“He chose that for you, didn't he?”

The stoic line of Ayato's mouth twitches and his eyes can't help but sweep over your screen, scrutinizing each grainy pixel.

Though he has plenty of insults prepared at his arsenal, he can't find anything to nitpick about. Damn it. It's a good choice.

“You'll look stunning,” Kokomi assures good-naturedly, smiling in delight. Ayato does not doubt that will be the case, but he's sure he would be in a foul mood the entire night if he were to see you adorning it.

He has already retrieved his coffee from the break room so he excuses himself to his office, long strides that lead him out of earshot.

As a result, he doesn't hear the following conversation.

“Why this, though?” Kokomi asks, looking closely at the accessory. “It's a simple design. Doesn't look like something a man would pick from the rest.”

You shake your head. “I just told him I wanted something blue, and I couldn't choose myself because there were too many that caught my eye...”

“Blue?” She echoes, a simple curiosity. “Why blue?”

“...It's a pretty color.”

--

It is an actual coincidence that Ayato runs into you in the middle of shopping.

You're hunched over a display stand showcasing a variety of earrings, deep in thought as you observe each one. You're doing that thing where you scrunch your nose in concentration, a habit Ayato doesn't think you even realize you have.

“Fancy meeting you here, Ms. [Surname].”

(He wonders what face you would've made if he said “You go here often?” instead. Probably some degree of disgust.)

You blink, correcting your posture and nodding in greeting. You don't look particularly thrilled to see him, but at least you're unbothered by the prospect of seeing your boss on a free day. “You're here to shop too, Mr. Kamisato?”

Ayato smiles amicably. “I am. Were you planning to buy earrings?”

“Yes, but...” Your gaze returns to the display, your own smile faltering. “It is a bit difficult to choose.”

He walks over, scanning the variety up and down. “Is it really? You only need to choose a pair that matches your necklace, right?” He focuses on shades of silver, bypassing the vibrant colors of reds and pinks. Not even fifteen seconds later, he picks out a card and holds it out next to your ear. “This one looks nice on you.”

“Huh? Really?” Perhaps surprised by his swiftness, it takes you a moment to react accordingly. You take the card from his hands and flip it over, eyes widening by a fraction. “Oh. It is rather pretty.” Then they widen further as big as saucers. “I can't say the same for the price tag, though.”

“Hm? What price tag?”

He plucks the earrings from your hands, walks to the counter, and pays for it without a second thought.

“M-Mr. Kamisato?”

“Pull up your hair.”

“Eh? Oh, okay.”

You're so caught off guard that you unwittingly do as he says, tucking your hair back obediently and still processing the last two minutes.

His fingers tug at your ear, warmth bleeding to your skin, and by the time you return to reality, he's already putting the earrings on you.

STORY FLOW.

ok i lied i actually can't remember shit about this fic so i will be making up stuff as i go lol

what i do remember clearly is that the resignation notice that ayato found on your desk is years old. you meant to submit it way, way back when ayato was tougher on you, and you weren't as well-adjusted as you are now to the job yet. as stated in the fic, being ayato's secretary is no easy task—he'd fired countless people he thought was incompetent.

you fought a number of times, and you didn't know if you could keep up working for a man you thought was simply incompatible with you (in terms of being colleagues/partners).

but over time, you learned to work together. ayato acknowledged your efforts and hard work, and you knew ayato had been trying to give you less jobs to reduce your workload, but you were going to prove that hou could handle it.

what truly made you appreciate ayato more was when you got stranded at the train station. you dealt with a far company they collaborated with, but work ended later than expected, and you'd missed the last train home. taxis were an option, but youd have to go through several of them to get back. right when you were thinking of checking into a hotel, ayato informed you he was already on his way and drove a couple of hours to get where you were to bring you home.

time continued to pass, and that brings us back to the present. you were on the process of cleaning up your desk and left the old resignation notice out in the open by accident, which led to ayato seeing it.

it is very apparent to the others that you two like each other, but the involved parties themselves are unaware of it. you currently aren't eager to get married, but you were trying to meet people so your parents would stop bugging you about still being single.

anyway, ayato bought those earrings for you. timeskip to the corporate event. you unconsciously picked a blue motif for your outfit because it reminds you of ayato.

when you get there, surprise, surprise. the man you were meeting, kazuha is a bigwig, heir to some other corporation. he actually owned that cruise he invited you to and pretended he didn't because you might be intimidated. ayato didn't think the kazuha he knew and the kazuha you knew were the same person, and now the advantage he had over him was ruled out (i.e being rich). (actually while i was rereading i was surprised i didn't mention that it was kazuha...? istg i was imagining him the whole time i wrote about him)

anyhow, as it became later in the night, ayato wanted to get you home before kazuha could offer to drive you back or worse, spend the night with him. ayato acted drunk so you'd tend to him and accompany him home while his driver was in charge of taking you to his apartment. as you were nagging at him, he compared your interactions with him to yours and kazuha's. you were certainly nicer to that man. smiled at him a lot more, too. did you really like him that much?

if you did, could he let you go?

he was ashamed that he couldn't answer it right away. as if he had any right to whatever you do.

you carried him to bed when you got to his apartment, but when you were preparing to leave, he hugged you from behind. do you like that man? why do you want to leave me? why can't it be me? ayato was just pretending to be drunk, but he felt dizzy now, soaked in your scent. he said things that he wasn't supposed to. things that he couldn't take back. things that would change your relationship forever.

slowly, you took away the hands wrapped around your waist. ayato figured that was a message of rejection.

but then you pushed him back down on the bed and you straddled his lap. his mind was silent for but a few seconds before he started screaming mentally.

i've always wanted you, but i knew it was impossible. you have a fiancee. i'm an ordinary worker. your family won't accept me. ayato's mind was in a daze because your face was so close to his, and all he could see was the red, glossy shade on your lips, but he managed to hear those few sentences.

it doesn't matter. nothing else matters. i can't marry if it's not you. if you accept me, i swear i'll make you happy.

from here on, it could be a happy, fluffy ending where turns out, you were tipsy so you were more honest with him and you fell asleep in the middle of kissing so he took it upon himself to change your dress into something more comfortable and end the night with a forehead kiss...

...or you could continue what you were doing and the first thing ayato takes off is the damned necklace so he could replace it with a smattering of hickeys. your choice ^^

[murderofravens]

VIOLATE

pairing: salesman x fem reader.

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT | RAPE/NONCON. daddy issues. age gap. reader had an abusive dad. physical abuse. degradation. forced blowjob. hitting, slapping, you know the drill. sub!reader. dom!salesman. blood. plot with porn. dont like? dont read. its that easy.

summary: you steal from the wrong man and face the consequences.

continuation to THIEF

most girls have some sort of fantasy in their head when it comes to their virginity. a blueprint of sorts— about what kind of man they'd like to lose it to, of how gentle he'd be with them. whether it would be planned and patient or spontaneous after a magical date.

you were one of those girls. so far, you'd managed to stay away from men, not just because none of them fit the standard you created in your head— but also because the idea of being with a man repulsed you. the first man in your life— your father, had broken your heart. so you protected yourself, put a lock on engaging in sexual desires for that special someone you could wholeheartedly give yourself to. you were scared that most men you encounter would be like your father— cold. violent. now, you understand that you were wrong.

the man in front of you was so much worse.

you dont get to wallow in your self pity for long. he hovers over you like a god— his presence alone was suffocating. the fact that his massive hand is currently tugging your head back doesn't help; your scalp stings and fresh tears well in the corner of your eyes. the sight makes him groan. his free hand holds onto his cock— gently stroking back and forth. it's a little darker than the rest of him— tip flushed and some precum gleaming on the top. it's clear all this fighting has been foreplay for him. he's getting off to your misery. his dark eyes flicker over your face, and as you try to pull your head back again, he forces the tip against your mouth; letting the stickiness spread over your lips.

"open up." his voice is breathy, hand tugging your hair back again. you wince. "don't make me ask again."

you shake your head, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as you glare at him with all the resentment your eyes can muster. your teeth grit together as you clamp your mouth shut. he pauses and settles you with a bored gaze, and before you can realize what's happening, his hand is pulling back and slapping you across the face again.

you fall sideways onto the couch with another sob. you can taste the blood in your mouth, and you cough. he's quick to yank you back up, chuckling slightly when the blood sputters out of your mouth and down your chin. he smears his cock against the dark fluid, before settling you with another warning glare.

"did you act this stubborn with your father too?" he pouts, voice taunting, "no wonder he hit you. you never seem to listen on the first try."

you feel livid, shaking with rage as he mocks you. you open your mouth to answer him, and he takes that opportunity to pry your jaw open with his thumb. he groans as he forces his cock past your mouth, slowly at first before pushing to the hilt, till your nose presses against the light patch of hair at the base. you barely get the time to protest before he's rolling his hips slightly, getting used to the wet cavern of your mouth. the thickness and the intrusion in your throat makes you choke and sputter incoherently around his cock, eyes watering again. your hands hold onto his thighs for support. maybe you can bite his dick right off, maybe—

"and if you bite me," he warns with a little chuckle, as if he read your mind, "i will slit your throat open and fuck it."

you shudder. you know he means it too— you can see the crazed look in his eyes as he cups your head with both hands. you don't want to take any chances. you can barely think when he pulls his hips back and thrusts again, eliciting a choked gargle out of you.

"fuck—" he grunts lowly, using your head as leverage as his thrusts slowly grow faster. your body trembles violently, the lack of oxygen making your head feel faint. "that's it— stay like that."

it's as if he's releasing all his pent up frustration on your little throat— his head thrown back, adams apple bobbing up and down as his thrusts get harder, faster. your choking seems to only spur him on, his hold on you getting tighter as you squirm on the couch, trying to pull back. he's not having it.

he pulls out momentarily and you get only a few seconds to breathe before he's grabbing you by the ear and dragging you off the couch. you shriek throatily and claw at his hand as he pulls you towards the wall and cages you in. your head presses against the concrete as he enters your mouth again, "stop that—" he grunts at your wiggling, pulling your head back and slamming it against the wall. you choke on a sob, feeling lightheaded. "the faster— ah— you make me cum the easier i'll make this for you."

his thrusts are like him— to the point, aggressive and inconsiderate. his hips snap forward almost violently as you claw at his thighs, leaving a few scratches. it makes him moan. your bloodshot eyes glare up at him as you choke around his length, his balls sloppily slapping against your chin. he doesn't make a lot of noise, but when he does it comes from the back of his throat. your head repeatedly slams against the wall as he fucks your face, and between his grunts he lets out another breathless chuckle.

laughing at your suffering.

"i'm getting close," his hand comes up and he pinches your nose between two fingers. you begin to writhe at the sudden cutoff of oxygen, eyes widening, "ah ah- take it like a good slut."

your vision gets blurry, head pounding and throat gurgling as he throws his head back and cums with a loud moan. you're sure you can feel it fill your stomach. it's bitter and you can feel the stickiness of it on the roof of your mouth, on the back of your tongue. his thrusts falter, hips stuttering as his chest heaves, few strands of his well kept hair falling across his forehead. you choke and cough as he pulls out, and stuffs his softening cock back inside his pants like he didn't just violate you.

you gag slightly as you taste the saltiness of his cum mixed with the metallic taste of your blood, and you cough some of it out. you greedily take in as much air as you can, eyes wide and face heated. he tosses you around like a ragdoll. your body is limp as you slump against the wall, shuddering. his foot raises, the tip of his shiny dress shoes pressing against your clothed crotch. his voice is thoughtful, contemplative. like he's talking about the weather. "should i pop your cherry?"

you look up at him, shocked. you can barely see him through your tears. "what?"

with a smirk, he grabs your arm and yanks you forward till your face crashes into his thigh. in your panic stricken haze, you grab onto his leg, clinging to him, desperate for any ounce of sympathy or comfort he can provide.

he has nothing to offer.

his hand comes down to run through your hair, like you're a dog. you lean into the touch, hope that you being responsive would sway any thoughts of him violating you further. he grabs your jaw, making your cheeks squish in his hold. he thinks you look utterly adorable this way. you whimper.

"please don't."

you break down into sobs again. you hate crying. you hate it more so because it makes you appear weak in front of the other person. they never seem to understand that you're crying out of rage, not sadness.

he sighs before shoving you off him. you slouch on the floor and he kneels before you, face indifferent. he gently brushes your hair away from your face, and you slap his hand away.

he's toying with you. playing with your fear. manipulating your emotions as he deems fit and he's revelling in it.

"you—" you pant, choking on another sob, before a crazed chuckle leaves you. full of disbelief, anger, hurt. "you sick fuck—"

"let's not use crude language." he remarks dryly, eyes crinkling as he puts on a smile. the same smile you thought to be charming at first glance. now it just looks empty and manipulative. he pulls out a handkerchief, wipes the sweat glistening on your forehead. "someone really ought to teach you how to talk to your elders."

"you raped me," you snap back, voice cracking as you shoot daggers at him through your glare. you want to lunge at him, to pull out his eyeballs and rip him apart. he grabs your chin, stares into your eyes with an intensity that makes you cower into yourself.

"i taught you a lesson," he shoots back calmly, expression serious. as if he truly believed what he said. "i gave you a glimpse of what could happen if you kept up with your reckless behaviour. surely you don't think you can always get away with stealing from men or talking back to them?"

you snatch your face away and look at the floor again, eyes stony and vacant. you were a fool to think you were made for this life. that you could've lived without a proper roof over your head, the financial security that your abusive father could provide you. but you weren't willing to go back.

not after everything you endured to leave.

your lips wobble. you try to compose yourself, force your face to look cold as you glare at him again.

"i'll go to the police." you take another sharp breath. you try to sound brave, you really do, but the slight waiver of your voice gives you away. "i'll tell them everything. i'll post it on social media. they'll find you and you'll be in jail by—"

you stop talking, merely staring at him as he smiles at you. it's a smile you recognise— one of those smiles that adults like to give to children, as if to say 'aw, you're so silly.' as if you're a naive child who is mindlessly babbling about something you don't know. as if he's the smartest person in the world. you know this smile because your father has aimed it at you multiple times.

"what are you smiling at?!" you snap, voice hoarse. he shakes his head almost fondly, his thumb caressing your bottom lip— spreading the drying blood around your chin.

"it amuses me," he starts, snorting again, "how you still believe in humanity after what i just did to you."

you're frozen as you stare at him, breathing ragged. he stares at your lips, plays with the blood there before pulling his hand back and licking the crimson fluid off his thumb. he tilts his head to the side, eyes coldly boring into yours.

"you want to know how men really are?" he quirks an eyebrow, unimpressed, "they will find out where you live and they'll come have their own fun with you."

"some time will pass and you'll eventually start selling your body to perverted old men on the street." his voice takes that business-like tone again. he stands up, adjusts his suit jacket as he looks around the apartment. "weak little girls like you can't handle that kind of lifestyle."

he bends down and picks up his stolen wallet off the floor. he opens it, pulls out that card you saw before. the one with the weird shapes on it. he holds it out towards you, "here's an opportunity. you can call the number on this and participate in some games that will get you money—" he gestures towards the cash on the floor- your prize from playing ddakji. "— or you can keep living like this and encounter more horrible men like me who won't be as gentle with you as i was."

the last line makes you snort bitterly. right. gentle. his bruises would last for days, the trauma a lifetime. if this is his idea of gentle, you would never want to know what his 'rough' entails. his eye twitches and he smiles back, before dropping the card on your lap.

you stay on the floor, frozen, the reality of what just happened to you settling in. you can keep living like this— pickpocketing men, making ends meet with stolen change, getting raped, and living in this clusterfuck of an apartment just to avoid your father; or you can go wherever all that money came from. his voice sounds faraway when he speaks again.

"i'm trusting you to make the right choice."

he gathers his briefcase, sends one more glance your way before exiting the apartment like he was never there in the first place.

A/N: im not very good with smut, but i tried. i really wanted to write just porn but i physically cant bring myself to do that without adding lots of plot and psychological elements and a backstory. otherwise it feels soulless to me. i hope i didnt bore you. for anyone who read this, thank you. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated. maybe i'll write about inho soon too.

tags for people who commented for a part 2: @rafesbunniebby @screaming-potato @nerdybarbariancupcake @deadddoll

[sapphira-mydnyte]

♥Shy Snake King♥

Warning: Snake, pain infliction, emotional overload.

Sebastian knows Ominis is deserving of being loved & he knows who his crush is. He means no harm, but Ominis is super shy & hates it when Sebastian tries to rush things. Ominis wants to take it slow & really work on not being so shy around the one he wants, but coming from such an abusive household that thrives on dark magic makes it extremely hard for him. He doesn't want the girl he really wants to be put off by his family, nor the fact that he's a parselmouth. Although she's accepting of it, there's always going to be a part of him that's scared. That underlying fear is that you won't like him when he gets cranky or that his family will come after you. He just doesn't want any harm to come to his girl, nor for her to have a reason to hate him. He knows his animagus form is a snake of some sort because he's an heir & Ominis, loving as he is, doesn't want his girl to be scared of him when he turns into whatever snake he truly is. He hopes he's a ball python though, a very cute one & not any bigger than he is at his full height for the length of the snake.

Sebastian, being playful & meaning no harm, pushed the poor blond a little too hard. The blue-eyed heir nearly fell into a kiss on the girl he had the biggest crush on & it unnerved him entirely! "SEBASTIAN!! Get your ass back here!! You're gonna pay for that!! YOU KNOW BETTER!!" Embarrassed with a full blush on his face, he gave chase to the mischievous brunette Scotsman. Ominis was NOT having his own best friend ruin that kiss for him & that was too damned close for his comfort! "I'm the heir you idiot!! You know damned well that I have a standard!!" He fired a few shots of Depulso at Sebastian, but he dodged the spells with ease & pulled up his shield in a full run for the last one. "Come on then Ominis! I know you're better than that! You want her that bad? Huh? Do you?!" Sebastian was just slightly shorter than Ominis, but he was the better runner, which irked Ominis to no end. He had the longer stride, but Sebastian had that little extra muscle to him thanks to all the running around he did with his sister.

As for the lovely lady that had stolen Ominis' heart? She was stunned that Sebastian was that brash about it, but thought it hilarious as Ominis tore across the field & getting closer by the second as they headed for the doors to the Great Hall. "Oh, Sebastian... what am I going to do with you & Ominis?" She couldn't help but laugh at Ominis' reaction, as he was clearly not ready to make a move that quick & nearly knocked his best friend down with his sharp aim. "Oh Ominis... don't take it too hard on Sallow... he knows where your heart lies & wants you happy, plus, I don't think Anne will like it if you torch his eyebrows again." She walked towards the Great Hall, following the Slytherin boys a mile behind. Sebastian may have rushed it a bit, but she knew how to make it better. With a little smirk on her face, she strutted through the doors of the Great Hall. "Pretty boy Gaunt has no idea what he's in for later... not in the slightest." Her plan? Sneak the gorgeous blond out & give him that much needed kiss in the Undercroft after locking the door behind them. Sebastian wasn't going to ruin his moment like he said & she'd make sure that the proud heir was made into a boyfriend before the sun rose the next morning. ♥

Kabedon

Sebastian really wants to intervene in his best friend's romance🤣

[simpjaes]

kinda need you to always write about jayhoon fucking and if its not on here PLEASE link where you write it I NEED THESE BISEXUAL MEN TO FUCK

warning: masturbation. jay wants to bottom for his horny friend who can't land a girl. sunghoon is kinda weird about it, like if he's gonna fuck a guy the least he can do is moan like a bitch. they don't fuck in this. not proof read. IF YOU HAVE AN ISSUE WITH SHIP FICS OR MXM THAT'S FINE. Don't hate on me because i like to have fun with fiction. none of this is real, and no, i don't ship them in real life.

-

"I'm just so frustrated, Jay, you have no idea." Sunghoon whines for the billionth time tonight, rock hard in his pants as he lounges around a bedroom that isn't his own. "Imagine if I have to graduate without fucking a single girl here?! Fucking embarrassing." Jay, well aware that Sunghoon really is just a little dumb sometimes, notes how his rock-hard friend never picked up on the fact that he's complaining about never getting his dick wet to a bisexual man, who very much has a crush on him.

"So, what're you going to do then?" Jay grumbles, kicking his socked foot into the rug on his floor, slouching against his bed and pretending like he doesn't have the hottest man on campus lounging on his bed right now. "I don't know-" Sunghoon huffs. "I think I'd do just about anything." He trails off now, lifting his arms in the air and grabbing a pair of imaginary ass cheeks. "What'd I'd do to get some ass in my face at this point. I'm going insane." "You'd do anything?" Jay turns on the floor, peeking above his bed at his friend, eyes trailing down to the tent in his pants only briefly. "Anything." Jay turns back now, staring at his closed bedroom door and feeling his face go hot. There's no way he's about to approach Sunghoon with this. No fucking way. "Sunghoon, have you ever like-" He stops himself, embarrassed, feeling like he's the desperate one at this point. "Hm?" Sunghoon half moans, throwing his hips up against the inseam of his pants, eyes closed as he still imagines that imaginary ass in his grasp. "Let me rephrase." Jay stumbles in his words, trying to think of how to ask him. "Are you looking for a pretty face, or like, just a hole?" Sunghoon pauses, opening his eyes and immediately shooting to the end of the bed, looking down at Jay. "Honestly? I'd probably fuck a bowl of macaroni at this point. My balls hurt." Jay doesn't dare look up at his friend, already feeling smaller compared to him as he sits on the floor embarrassed about his own lust. "What about a guy?" He blurts now, knowing that if he doesn't just ask, he never will. Meaning, he'll never have the chance to know himself just how deep Sunghoon's desperation goes compared to his own. "Hm." Sunghoon pauses, looking up to the ceiling in thought before throwing himself back on the bed. "You know? Yeah, maybe." He says, knowing that at the end of the day, a hole is a hole. Casual sex is casual sex. Guy, girl. Either option is better than a bowl of macaroni. "Oh?" Jay perks up, turning again to look at him. "Why maybe?" "Well, given my luck with girls, I doubt I can just walk up to some guy and be like 'hey bro, can i put my dick in you?' Plus, he's gotta be like, pretty, I guess." Jay's face heats more, knowing for a fact that if Sunghoon said those words to him, he would be on the floor spreading his cheeks in an instant. "Pretty like how?" "I don't know. I've never thought about it before. Shorter than me, nice ass, shaved face. Preferably can moan kinda girly..." Well. Jay just so happens to be shorter. He's shaved (everything), He- Jay tries to moan out quietly, just to see if his voice reaches a feminine pitch, very quietly. "Was that you?" Sunghoon suddenly asks, once again throwing himself back over to the edge of the bed, intentionally rubbing his cock against it because honestly, he needs some fucking hole. "Huh?" Jay asks dumbly. "Was what me?" "Moaning. Did you just moan?" Sunghoon narrows his eyes. "I-" "That sounded kinda hot," Sunghoon now encourages him, staring down at his friend and thinking...maybe..."Can you do it again?" And so, Jay moans awkwardly, trying to reach that same pitch, trying to impress him, really. "Holy shit, you sound so..." Sunghoon trails off, closing his eyes and rubbing his cock against the mattress again. "slutty." "Really?" Jay's eyes practically sparkle, blinking up at Sunghoon in a somewhat submissive way which kind of floors his friend. "Oh." Sunghoon sighs at the image, feeling his cock pulse, practically beg for the man on the floor. "You said they have to be pretty too though." The shorter man pushes the subject, not quite asking, but implying. It's silent now as Jay starts to spiral further and further into embarrassment. He can hear nothing but his own heartbeat threatening to kill him off and get him out of this situation and, well, the rubbing sounds of Sunghoon up there semi-masturbating on his bed.

"Who said you aren't pretty?" Sunghoon mutters, seemingly finding who it is he can release all of this sexual frustration out on. - part two

[dreamerimpossible]

His reaction when you say someone else's name during sex.

Warnings: +18 content, unhealthy relationships, mentions of violence, dark content, toxic behavior, threats.

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Masky, Hoodie, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby.

Jeff the Killer

He covers your mouth and proceeds to fuck you even more violently than before. He chokes you and thinks he's suffocating the person you named. Your legs will shake after that. When he's done, he looks at you angrily; you know he's about to make a jealous scene. There's screaming and abuse. Neither of you can control yourself. He kills the person. You make a scene too; he continues it: there's a lot of stuff lying around. You have hate sex. He makes a jealous scene, then remembering what happened, you get angry and continue the argument. Just a big vicious cycle.

Masky

He stops. He looks at you through his mask. I'd like to say he'd fuck you more violently and get even, but he'd probably get really angry, and that would make him not want to have sex anymore. He yells at you and blames you. Lots of threats and reminders that he has you in his hands to do whatever he wants. He's a scary man. The only way to get him to stop acting like this is to tell him that you don't care if that person dies or not. The next morning you find something meaningful from the other person on your nightstand; you have to hold back your scream; otherwise he'll think you lied to him. Depending on how you react, that will be his reaction. If you have no reaction at all, he'll relax, thinking it was just a little slip-up on your part.

Hoodie

He plays with you. He records you and degrades you. He leaves videos for the person you named to see. The videos are embarrassing, you repeatedly moaning “Hoodie” until your throat hurts and your voice cracks. Your naked body with bruises and scratches. You with your legs spread wide open as Masky and Hoodie take turns fucking you. You in the woods in handcuffs as you sat naked in the grass while he masturbated and you waited for his cum with a fervor absolutely unknown to you. You're begging Hoodie to touch you while he makes you say the dirtiest, most lustful things you've ever heard. You in different positions... I think you get the idea.

Laughing Jack

He'd be amused. He's a sadist. I doubt he'd be interested in sex without some extra incentive. So that just makes things better. Maybe he'll kidnap the guy and tie him to the bleachers as the only spectator of his circus show and force him to watch as he uses you sexually and plays with your body no matter what you say. It all ends in a sordid game of laughing jack, and you frankly think it would have been much better if he just felt jealous. But you know what he's like; you know the boundaries of his sanity have been pushed and taken with him, so you'll probably ask for more and more pain and be glad that the guy is so disgusted watching it.

Ticci Toby

He stops abruptly. Someone could get hurt. You didn’t know who: him, the guy you named, or you. You didn’t know; it depended on how well he processes things. You back away from him slowly, with fine rigor, not letting him see that you’re scared of him. You could see him making confusing decisions in his mind. You can’t do anything but wait and pray that he doesn’t show you his bad side. You avoid explanations; you avoid everything. Any sound. You don’t have to prove that you exist in that room. He doesn’t calm down, but he leaves; he was so angry with you. He doesn’t come back for a few weeks. When he comes back, he expects you to still be sorry and ask for forgiveness. You do. You don’t know if it’s out of fear or love, but you do.

[pricegouge]

In Your Web

part two - masterlist

nikolai x f!reader

cw: stalking, mention of alcohol, male masturbation MDNI

By all accounts, you need a return address to ship to Latvia.

Rather, you need a return address to ensure your package doesn't get opened by customs, where agents will laugh at best, or steal your panties at worst. Maybe even steal your DNA? To what end, anyway? No! Worse than that - what if they used their connections to trace the package back even without your address and -?

One is predictably unsympathetic. 

» Then send it with one.

It doesn't surprise you that he thinks you're that dumb. 

You toy with the idea of leaving a random address in the return spot and cringe when you imagine a surly Russian man accosting some random family four states over. It's a mental image you carry with you over the next week, playing it on repeat every time you get cut off in traffic, or you find a coworker has pissed on the toilet seat without cleaning it up. Once, you even catch yourself thinking of it when a particularly annoying regular dominates your feed during a regularly scheduled live performance.

But One is not your knight in shining fiber optic cable. Neither do you actually wish to inflict him on anyone.

So you send it without a return address, watch the shipping updates closely, and feel your stomach slowly boil when it sits for five business days at an importing station. Evidently, One watches it as well.

» You did not do as I asked.

He's uninterested in your offer to refund his money - half now, half later. All you can manage.

» If I wanted my money back I would simply cancel my subscription and request a chargeback from the service.

» I want what I purchased.

Talk of chargebacks makes you flighty. There are only two things you know about One, those being that he is very wealthy, and very rude. The bane of all customer service operators. You don't think it's likely the service would honor a reimbursement for a tip issued over a week ago, but it's not something you want to risk seeing as, unlike your plan to split his reimbursement, OnlyFans would reach into your bank account with the cold unfeeling hand of a multi-million dollar company and steal it back all at once, a prospect you simply can't afford at this time, as embarrassed as you are to admit. Long ago you'd made a promise to yourself that any and all large tips received from this side gig would go immediately toward paying off debts - student loans, ill advised credit cards you'd taken out while still living off said loans. It was a decision that had done you nothing but good up until this very moment, when his money was already spent and you were staring down the barrel of having to pay him back using your own funds.

Or, barring that, he could cancel his subscription and not only get a chargeback for the remainder of his pay period (probably the year, knowing him - you'd have to check) but you'd also stand to lose your best customer. One you're not entirely sure how you managed to land in the first place and one whose income you'd likely never manage to replace. Already, One's singlehandedly paid off an entire card for you, and until now he's showed no signs of stopping.

« i'll fix it

It's a bold promise to make when you have no recourse, but one you don't see your way out of making.

» No, I will.

—

For as much as the line had made you nervous at the time, One does not make any overt moves to follow up on it that you can see. Lapses into an uncharacteristic sort of radio silence for a time. He even skips the next few liveshows, something that strikes you as very unlike him. One does not seem the type of man to let a service he's already paid for go unused. The first night it's kind of nice, seeing as he has an annoying little habit of just paying the target price within the first ten minutes because he 'doesn't have time for this' (funny, how he always has enough time to request a private cam after) but then it's three shows later and you've barely raised anything because, apparently, all your other customers are used to sitting back and reaping the benefits of One's impatience. Something you'll have to address. He stays out of your DMs, too. Offers no tips in exchange for personal requests.

You'd be lying if you said it doesn't light a fire under your ass, gets you chatting with other creators searching for ideas on how you can fix the situation. People much smarter than you say to cut your losses and just refund him. Be done with it. But mostly it just leaves you with a large level of concern. You know these people aren't dumb, but you can't imagine the level of trust they've placed in some of their own favorite customers. Maybe it's because they're lucky enough to have attracted nice people, or at least people with enough social aptitude to know how to pretend to be nice. Something to be said for One, he's never once let you forget he's not the sort of man you should trust with your personal information.

Finally, inspiration strikes in the form of another stupid suggestion, one creator admitting they've put their work address in the return slot. They do not comment on whether or not they used their legal name, but given their stage name contains the word anal, you have to assume.

No desire to let One know where you work, or even the town you're from, you begin to think about other nameless faceless organizations you can use as a fall back instead, finally settling on a random Walmart two states over. You use your stage name and post it, sending One the new tracking number along with a free vid of you getting the replacement pair all messy in hopes that he returns immediately to his normal spending.

Of course, he doesn't so much as thank you. When another two pass with no contact, you begin to grow concerned. You triple check your account to make sure he hasn't unsubbed, but he's still right there at the top - even with no tips given in over a week.

He's disappeared for a few days in the past, but this is different. You think. Or maybe it's not. You wouldn't know seeing as you don't know him. Seeing as he's never given an excuse for his absences. Not that you'd ever asked… It's normal to be worried for someone you talk with nearly every day, right? You don't know him, sure, but you'd be a bit worried if your favorite barista from the shop you frequent just up and left one day. And your income doesn't even depend on her.

Perhaps that's why you break character when he finally resurfaces, the joy on your face when you see his handle pop into chat the next night genuine. Your giddiness is infectious, even. At least one other regular bothering to welcome him back when you stop your stream dead just to say hi. Foam falls around you, slips over your bare skin down to the tarp laid over the floor where already a good foot of it has accumulated like a blanket of snow. It was an idea you'd been quite proud of, always a fan of a simple dance party. The foam machine was a small expense given the high engagement you've received so far, your subscribers happy enough to watch you shake your ass while covered in soap bubbles and glow sticks. The machine had already paid for itself, but now that One was back, you couldn't help the building hope that you'd even meet your goal for the night, which could make for a pleasant weekend full of meeting friends for drinks.

"Glad to see you're alive. Was getting a little worried about you," you grin, settling back into your roll easily. You pinch your tits between your arms as you mime snapping on a pair of gloves. "Got thinking maybe it was time for a visit from your favorite nurse."

But One is not feeling very playful tonight, if he ever is.

» Check your phone.

You huff and kick some foam at the camera obnoxiously, pleased when it falls short and hits the TV it's mounted on top of instead. You don't need to kill the mood even further by stopping to clean your lens. You eye it now, pretend you're staring up at him defiantly when you refuse, tell him you're in the middle of something with one hand snaking down your belly. On the TV below, large enough you can read even from the middle of the floor, you watch the feed as they would see it: yourself on the left while the chat bubbles in excitement on the right, egging you on. You nod at them, a silent promise, check to make sure your position looks good and that you've got a smattering of foam on you, at least enough to keep some mystery for them to unravel as the show continues -

» Now.

Irritation doesn't sell well, but sometimes you can package it as chastisement. "Play nice," you caution, voice whistling through clenched teeth. It's not One's thing specifically, but there are other regulars who you know will eat it up. "Gotta learn to share."

But One goes above and beyond simply not liking being nagged at.

He waits until your fingers are just barely tracing your thatch of curls, movement from your laptop screen catching your eye. You drop pretenses entirely when a new window opens, your private chat with One maximized so you cannot possibly miss it. Carving a path through the accumulated foam, you slink out of the field of view of the mounted camera, show long forgotten as you approach your laptop, mounting fear confirmed as you watch your mouse move across the screen of it's own accord to hit play on the video he'd evidently sent you while you were otherwise occupied.

You know what it will be based on the thumbnail, but it shocks you anyway. The panties he holds look like nothing more than candy floss in his thick fist, wrapped around a fat cock so tightly the lace is stretched. Distorted. It's weird, the things you notice when adrenaline bends time. The camera work isn't great, doesn't let you see his the root of his cock or even his belly. Its focus shifts a few times, undecided if it wants to settle on the display before it or the dark hardwood below. He wears a watch, a simple leather band nestled in a pelt of dark hair. His knuckles are dusted too, hiding the glint of a thick gold band on his pinky. Uncut, thick. He grunts the next time his foreskin pulls back enough to reveal his glistening head and your breath stutters with his when the lace catches, synthetic fibers relaxing back into a recognizable pattern as he eases them off, untangles it from his grasp to flatten against the table, flimsy gusset laughably small framed between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand.

His native tongue spills from him like his seed, molten and thick. Language, even if you can't understand it, is enough to tug at you and you yelp, your brief moment of shock fracturing enough to compel you into movement.

Nik likes the way the suds paint her, the rainbow foam a nice contrast with her skin. It slides down the valleys of her body naturally, highlighting recesses he'd previously been unaware of. Pesky self consciousness, always framing herself so carefully to hide away the bits she think he won't like. They won't like, he supposes.

He's never minded sharing. Nature of the beast, paying for it. But he doesn't see why he should have to suffer the same experience as these others, not when he gives so much more.

It was one of the first issues that had lead him to this little perversion, the impersonal uniformity. The self-editing. He pays to see her body, not the careful curation of videos and stills which she deems tasteful enough. So he settles in behind the wrong camera most nights, his field of view lower. Off center. Only watches the proper stream - the one he actually pays for - when she looks dead at the camera to talk to him, ring light glowing eerily in her irises.

Close enough, for now.

He's logged into a burner account while he works himself up, watching as she bounces around her room to an obnoxious beat. Her audio mixing is off tonight, the club music she plays just a hair too loud. He likes to watch from alternate accounts sometimes, likes to see how well she fights her dismay when these other viewers struggle to collectively pay her bills. She's more likely to grant him special requests the longer he waits to show up, he's learned. Off the menu orders, she calls them. Cute, but not what he's looking for tonight.

Her thong hangs from the corner of his screen. He hates to have already ruined it, but consoles himself with the knowledge she'd been sweet enough to send him another pair. They won't smell as good, he's sure. Another censure she'll have placed on herself. None of the sweat from having been worn all day. But she tried. Wanted to please him. Desperate thing.

It's laughable, thinking Latvian customs would be able to stop him from acquiring what's his, but it's not like she would know that. It's why he prefers small, no-name performers like her. So unsuspecting. Passably genuine, smile growing on her face when he switches to his regular account, the one she has memorized. It makes his cock twitch, excitement growing when she showers him in attention, singles him out in the middle of her show. Forgets to keep dancing, even. As she should. He wonders if he paid for her new toy, the noisy machine currently leaving soap scum on her walls. Wonders if she'll let him pay for it again or if she'll have him summarily blocked within minutes. It won't matter, of course, but he's excited to see how she'll unfold. Another off-menu order. One more bridge too far.

What she gets, taking so much of his money yet never offering more. He just wants to see sides of her no one else has.

It's hard to control himself when she starts to get catty, shows her teeth. He'd imagined stretching this moment out a bit more, thoroughly ruining the mood for all other viewers. But when she looks right at her camera and tells him to behave, his breath goes ragged, and he has to let go of his cock to show the little bitch better - taking over her laptop to bring up the video he'd sent, a low grumble building in his chest like a warning when she slinks closer, as if proximity will give her a better understanding.

Three monitors, one for every angle of his omniscience. On the right, the chat in her official feed grows annoyed as she walks out of frame, a few of them even accusing him of foul play. Hero-types. He's going to enjoy watching them try to comfort her if she doesn't delete her account entirely after tonight - after he mouses over the video displayed on his middle screen, the mirror of her own laptop. On his left, she looms closer, expression open and honest in a way he's not seen it yet. Painted in the blue light of her monitor, it contrasts garishly with the heavy makeup she'd applied for the show, all warm-toned to match her pink neons; catches on the tiny pockets of popped soap bubbles which fleck over her cheek. It's not a good look, one she'd likely touch up before even taking a selfie for her Instagram account, a post-show teaser meant to make potential viewers feel like they'd missed out. And now that he's seen it, he knows how much he's been missing out, fist working over his cock with renewed vigor as he imagines all the ways he wants to see her now, all the ways he can, even if -

He fights the cursor when she tries to take control, but she's clever enough to know some keyboard commands. His right monitor blinks back to her profile when she cuts the feed, the middle one slowly returning to her home screen as she closes out of each window. She pulls away quickly after, palms clamped over her jaw as she breathes through the panic, soft belly caving with each pant. Foam still spews from the machine, dye having run out. It catches in her hair, paints her skin milky. He has half a mind to open a word doc on her computer, tell her she should skip the dye next time, the white more suggestive.

Doesn't get a chance. Cums when she scrambles back to the desk, his left monitor dropping the feed when she smartens up and rips the battery out of her laptop.

Left languid and lazy, he tracks her movements across her socials from his bed, thumbing through his phone. Detached, he watches her accounts blink out one after the other. A small city going dark under the approach of his hele. She deletes some outright, settles for blocking him on others. Even issues an apology to her viewers from a site she doesn't know he even has an account on. It's vague, boring. Doesn't mention him. He gets an email around midnight, her time, telling him to expect a refund for the remaining term of his payment, but is pleased to find her account still in place when he checks from a burner. The save of her live show is taken down shortly after, but he's not worried. Had it saved locally.

Can't rely on strangers from the Internet to behave, after all

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

"And you seen him in your class for the first time ever?"

"No. He was always there. I just didn't notice him until after that first encounter." Rioto answered. Iku shakes his head, rubbing his neck, and sighs. Then he has to ask, "Is he blackmailing you, Rioto? Tell us the truth." Iku asked. Rioto widens his eyes and shakes his head, "No! Nothing like that! I meant every word!"

"Okay! So do you know whose he's working for?" Moudo asked, still worried. The three are curious.

"Uh...well..." Rioto looks hesitant, "I-I haven't ask."

"Oh dear.." Moudo's vice general was worried but Iku's vice general was getting angry hearing this. It's wasting their time!

Torahito closes his eyes at that while Iku glares, "And why didn't you? Oh! I know why! Because you either too dumb or you don't want to ask!"

"It wasn't my business to know and Yuta never discussed his side with-"

Then Iku slams his foot, leaving a dent on the floor, startling Moudo and the two vice generals. "WELL! IT'S NOW OUR BUSINESS TOO!" He yelled at Iku making Rioto tremble. Iku points at him, "You don't have the balls to ask him because you're afraid of who he's working for? Because if he did, he will kill you if he wanted to. Hell, he probably using you to get to us! I bet you two morons talk about it and you have no idea what to do so that's why you held this meeting." He points at Junpei and Rioto both with a finger. "So you want to push this shit on us! What is going through your mind? This isn't a game!"

"Sir Iku-"

"I agree with him! He should have said something! He could be still highly dangerous!" he said.

"Or maybe we are over seeing this. Remember, not all people are like what we seen....."

"It is like that! Anyway...where is he?"

"M-my house..." Rioto stammered a bit, trying his best to get his thoughts together.

"YOUR HOUSE!?! HE'S AT YOUR HOME!! ARE YOU CRAZY RIOTO!!" Iku's vice general stood up in horror. Moudo's vice general was worried seeing everyone getting different reactions now.

Iku stands up, "Then let's go over there and ask. If he is Sukuna's goon then I'm kicking his ass for that freaking gut punch-"

"Rioto." Oda's voice cuts through the room and this stops Iku in mid-sentence. "What do you see in this man?" He asked him firmly.

"......" Both vice generals were silent now curious to hear this. What was his reason for this?

"He's strong and kind. At first, his cursed energy is off the charts and it almost scares me. He almost kill me, yes. But I want to fight him again after he uh...warn me to um...not to cause a ruckus on campus. Of course, I got upset because I felt...weak. But fighting him again, I felt....inspired to become stronger. It was different from when I faced other sorcerers." Rioto then adds, "And in a way, he reminds me of you, sir."

Oda's eyelids went up slightly.

"I see."

"Oh my; so that explains a bit. Not many have Sir Oda's type of power. This Yuta must be a very powerful sorcerer.." Moudo's vice general mutters thinking about it. Very powerful.

"......I think we still need to see for ourselves. We should have him come here to speak with us! I don't trust it.." Iku's vice general said with arms crossed. "Besides, theirs no one else more powerful than lord Oda. No one! Not even this Yuta!"

"But what if he is? You know their are very powerful people out there. Some that is hidden, or well known....I get the feeling this young gentlemen is indeed powerful...we will have to see for ourselves..if we can meet him."

"Are you thinking he is that much of a threat!? Ha! He's nothing but a weakling!"

"...And how are you sure? We never met him.." Moudo's vice general said to the other worried.

"You challenged him!? And made some bet!?" Iku's vice general shouted in shock even with the other quiet but shocked too. Though, hearing the story he along with many knew of his 'attack'.

"B-but! He decided to help me when I was coughing, got my inhaler, he took me to his place to rest, and made me a meal. He didn't care about the wager!" Rioto explains.

"Impossible..."

"And after that...well...nothing."

"Is that all?" Torahito asked.

"And he works hard. He's TA on top of that." Rioto said.

"A TA?" Moudo asked.

"Teaching assistant," Shukaku said. Rioto nods, "Yes. He does that and he works hard despite it. He's not.....a bad guy." He said.

"........."

"Hmm, he does sound more heartful than heartless you know. I think he is speaking true words here." Iku's vice general mutters thinking about it even if the other was holding his head.

"Oh so what? You mean that he's willing to be this nice.....assassin yet he could have killed you Rioto.."

"But he didn't as Rioto said.."

".....I..I find it hard to believe. It's like you want us to believe he would even turn himself in to prove that he's dedicated to him or something!"

[miraculouslyfine]

stay with me.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: just a regular day with your boyfriend, who happens to fight crime sometimes //nothing but pure fluff lol, slightly dramatic reader

(word count: 2k)

“You ever think your dad might secretly hate me?”

“Oh, yeah. All the time”

“Y/n, I'm being serious”

She snorted. Oh, yeah. Tony Stark secretly hating Peter Parker. That was a good one. Tony, the same guy who was practically begging May to let him adopt her nephew before he found out Peter was dating his child (he quickly dropped the idea as if May was even considering it, saying he didn't want any weird Alabama stuff happening under his roof). The guy who praised Peter (to be fair never in front of him) so much to the point where both Y/n and Morgan were starting to feel like Peter was the favorite child amongst them. Yeah, he hated him alright.

“No, Peter, I don't think my dad hates you. Where is this even coming from?”

“It's just... okay, listen, I was thinking-”

“That's never a good sign”

"Shut up.”, he glared at her, unimpressed by her comment. “As I was saying, I was thinking, Tony's...well... Tony Stark, Iron Man, a literal genius and I am... well... me. I feel like he secretly wishes I'd choke on something and die so I'll leave you alone...What I'm trying to say is that I feel like he doesn't think I'm good enough for you”, he sighed feeling a bit nervous now.

“Are you kidding? If anything, he thinks I'm not good enough for you. Everyone and their mom know he likes you more than me”

“I don't know... He still has the whole Iron Man and world-famous billionaire thing. You've got two parents who are like...two of the most important and influential people in the world. And I'm the nerdy dude with the mask...who gets good grades. Not exactly what they'd pair you with on Tinder”

“If it's any consolation, I'd totally swipe right on you”, she said with a wink.

He rolled his eyes, trying to look like he wasn't enjoying every second of this. “You're so cheeky, you know that?”

“And you looooove it. Just like you looooove me”, her tone was light and playful as she dragged out the words. Her arms wrapped around his neck without much thought; it had become second nature for her to be touching him in some way.

Peter's own arms wrapped around her waist almost instinctively, bringing her body closer to his. He sighed, still trying and failing to act annoyed as a small smile made its way to his face. “Oh, yeah. I'm crazy about you”

She mockingly rolled her eyes at him just like he had done a second ago. “Is that little sarcastic tone supposed to throw me off? Prove you're not? You're not fooling anyone, Petey. We both know it's true, so you better drop the attitude mister”, she grinned and pressed a light kiss on his lips, quickly pulling back.

“Don't push it”, he said in a half-serious/half-joking tone. “You're getting a little too sassy” He cupped her face and stole a longer kiss, gently holding her in place.

“Peter and Y/n, sitting on a tree, k-i-s-s-hmfm"

Peter's all-time favorite activity is kissing his girlfriend. It's especially enjoyable when he does it when she's being annoying, to shut her up. And that's exactly what he did now. He kissed her again, this time with a little more intensity. She's so close and so beautiful and so annoying in the best way possible and she's his and how did he get lucky enough to wind up with her?

He pulled her even closer. His hand held her by the hip, the other gently cupping her face. He finally broke the kiss, his breathing a bit heavy. “You're driving me crazy”

“Crazy? I was crazy once. They locked me in a room- okay, fine I'll stop, I'll stop, jeez”, she muttered under her breath once she saw the look Peter was giving her. “I love you?”

“Is that a question?”, he asked slightly amused at her attempt to get in his good graces.

“No, I definitely love you. And I'm very much in love with you”

He rolled his eyes again but smiled nonetheless. “And I'm in love with you”, he said affectionately, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. He just wanted to stay there like that, with her, for the rest of the day but he knew he had a patrol to get to.

“Oh no”

He raised an eyebrow skeptically at her sudden comment. “’Oh no’ what? What happened?”

“You're doing the face”, she said with a small frown.

He feigned innocence, like he didn't know what she was talking about. He totally knew what she was talking about. “What face? I'm not doing anything”

“You're doing the ‘I-have-SpiderManing-to-do' face”, her frown further deepened.

“Yeah, okay, I'll give you that”, he sighed sheepishly, taking the tiniest step back. “I need to go out and, y’know, save people in peril and all that. Being a hero and all. You know I have to”, his tone was just as soft as his touch when he gently cupped her cheek with his hand.

She instinctively leaned into his touch, looking into his eyes all soft and lovingly, making Peter's heart melt. “Do you really have to, though? How about you save your own girlfriend instead?”, she said playfully with an exaggerated pouty expression.

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. A sly grin formed on his face. “Oh yeah?”, he asked, playing into this. “And how's my girlfriend in need of saving?”

She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm glad you asked, Spidey"

She -very dramatically, in Peter's opinion -flopped on the bed, basically throwing herself on it. "I'm about to experience 'broken heart syndrome'. My boyfriend is about to abandon me"

Peter can’t help but laugh at her theatrics. She sounded like someone auditioning for the role of 'most unfortunate soul' in a melodrama. “You’re so dramatic. I’m not abandoning you; I’m just going out on patrol. I’m doing my job.”

"Same difference", she huffed before jumping up, now speaking in an overly cheerful tone. "But fear not, kind Spider-Man! There is a way to prevent this!"

“Oh yeah?” Peter chuckled. He had no idea where this was going, but he’d be damned if he didn’t continue indulging her. He’s weak for this girl. “And what’s that?”

With an exaggerated sigh, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, tilting her head back as if the weight of her woes was simply too much to bear.

"You have to spend the rest of the day here, with me. The streets of New York mustn't see you at all.” In a graceful, almost theatrical collapse, she draped herself across the armrest of the fainting couch (Peter swore the only reason she even had this thing was for dramatic falls like this one); the picture of overly dramatic defeat.

“Or else we're doomed!"

Peter couldn't help but start laughing. “The streets of New York mustn't, huh?”, he joked. He pulled her closer, looking at her with a grin. “And what, pray tell, exactly would be the terrible, awful consequence if I were to leave?” he teased, playing into her overly theatrical bit for her.

“I'd burst into glitter and confetti and the Earth would explode, naturally”, she said in a serious tone with a nod.

Peter laughed again. “That’s an, eh… interesting consequence,” he joked, holding her even closer. “So let me get this straight: you go kaboom unless I stay here?”

"Kaboom into glitter, yes", she nodded.

“Oh no, we can’t have that happening, can we?” he said, still amused. He gently pushed a piece of hair away from her face. “Who’s gonna be my girlfriend if you burst into glitter?"

"No one because I'm gonna haunt all your hoes away. Just kidding, that kind of language is unacceptable, all girls are beautiful, no girl's a hoe. But no other girlfriends for you, just me"

“No other girlfriends. Only you,” he chuckled with a smile. The thought alone that there would be any other girlfriends wasn’t even in his mind. She was the only girl he wanted. He gently lifted her chin so she was looking at him. “What else can I do for my amazing, beautiful, slightly dramatic girlfriend?”

"Stay with meeeee, I don't want you to leeeeaaaveeee", she said dramatically in the tone of that one Cigarettes After Sex song.

No way she broke out in a song right now-Peter shook his head and smiled, laughing at her overdramatic tone. “Oh my god, you are so over the top,” he joked. He took a few seconds, then in mock dramatics, he relented. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay. I can’t have you bursting into glitter.”

But she was far too into her role now; she had already fallen on her knees in front of him. "No, Peter, you don't understand, you have to stay-"

Her tone was overly pleading -it really sounded like she was on the verge of crying-, as if she were begging him, before she registered what he said, a big smile appearing on her face.

"Wait you're staying?"

Peter was taken aback by her being on her knees, and he couldn't stop himself from laughing at her melodramatic performance. “Oh, you really are committed to the bit, huh?”

When she asked him if he was staying, he pretended to sigh, as if this was some great burden, and nodded. “Yes. I’m staying.”

"Wait, really?", she stood up abruptly. "What about the people of New York? People are kind of dumb, they'll definitely need help with something at some point- I mean, everything's under control, people are so responsible. No crime happening at all. Ever. Don't leave"

He rolled his eyes again but smiled. He liked knowing she wanted him around as much as he did. "They'll be okay... I think. I hope. I could use a break anyway."

She smiled back at him, her gaze softening. "You don't have to stay, y'know. I wouldn't want you to worry whether an alien invasion is happening or not"

He gave her a look. "Don't joke about that. It has happened before-"

She lifted her hands in mock surrender. "Right, right, sorry, I thought we were allowed to joke about it now since it's been a while. Guess not", she said with a playful eye roll before her tone turned more soft, almost shy "But you'll stay?"

Peter paused, the weight of the decision heavy on his shoulders. The responsibilities he'd carried for so long tugged at him, a persistent reminder of duty and expectation. But then his gaze settled on Y/n —eyes wide, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering in her expression.

"I’ll stay," he repeated softly, the words almost foreign on his lips.

Y/n blinked, as if she hadn’t truly expected the offer to be taken seriously. Her mouth opened, then closed, a hesitant smile trying to find its place.

"You don’t have to—"

"I know," Peter interrupted, the corners of his mouth curving into a faint smile. For once, the weight of obligation loosened its grip, and he allowed himself to simply be. "I want to"

Peter pulled her into a hug, holding her as close to him as possible.

He wrapped his arms around Y/n, his movements unhurried, as if savoring the quiet rebellion of staying here a little longer. The embrace was firm yet relaxed, neither dramatic nor fleeting, just enough to feel the steady rhythm of each other's breathing.For a moment, time seemed to hold its breath, allowing them to settle perfectly into the comfort of each other's presence, unspoken gratitude passing between them like a gentle current.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"So, you usually don't want to, is what you're saying-"

"You're unbelievable"

[momo-minomo]

Batfam Cooking/Eating Habits

I know that the fandom has, for some reason, settled on the idea that Alfred and Jason are the only Waynes that can cook and the rest are health disasters but honestly the comics doesn't really support that (with the exception of Bruce and maybe Cass lol) and I have serious doubts that Alfred would let ANY of his kids go through life without basic life skills. So based on comics and my own thoughts and feelings, here's how I figure everyone's kitchen skills would be.

Bruce: He follows a VERY strict diet to maintain his peak physical condition but will break it for special occasions or feeding his kids takeout on patrol. As for cooking, for the most part Bruce is an utter disaster in the kitchen. He's had Alfred by his side his entire life so most of the time his attempts at cooking went extremely badly, even if it was something as simple as a damn sandwich as Tim can attest to here:

After Alfred's death he does eventually learns to make a few specific, simple things really well like the omelette he made for Clark here. As you can see, though, he's still pretty helpless in the kitchen with anything beyond the very basics, even dishwashers lol

Dick: Our flippiest boy is not the hopeless cereal-addicted kitchen disaster that fandom assumes he is. In fact, Tim was surprised at how good Dick is with all the "domestic skills" like cleaning, laundry, and cooking. Dick has cooked multiple times in the comics, especially for dates or Tim. He is constantly trying to feed his baby brother in general so he's cooked him pasta and soup for sure and just showed up with takeout or donuts a bunch.

Jason: I love the headcanon that Jason is a foodie and a really good cook even though I admit there's not much evidence for it in the comics. No evidence against it, either. Jason definitely loves to eat good food and doesn't bother with a strict diet like Batman and he loves a good burger. Considering his past, though, I think it's very in character that he'd learn to cook really well from Alfred so he's always self-sufficient. Since I don't have any comic snapshots of him cooking, here's Jason's eternal love for burgers instead!

Tim: His relationship with food seems kind of complicated to me. Tim on his own will eat super healthy so he remains in top shape for the job. What we see him eating, though, are things like plain salads, kale chips, and scrambled egg whites. Considering his extremely active life he should be eating more protein and larger portions but he often leaves them unfinished. As a young Robin it didn't seem like he got fed much at home, either, since you see Dick trying to feed him at every opportunity and he was always hungry if Alfred or Dick offered to cook or buy food for him.

When Tim is with other people, the YJ crew, his friends, Dick, Spoiler, etc he's far more willing to eat. Dick pulls out donuts and Tim is rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Dick brought a thermos of soup on patrol for himself but immediately hands it to Tim when he shows up and Tim downs it. So my HC is that Tim will eat as a necessity but doesn't really like to do it by himself. He's a social eater. He'll spend an entire afternoon eating a boring but healthy meal because he has to but if a friend or sibling show up he'll happily eat a full meal with them and even junk food.

As for Tim and cooking, we actually know he can and is pretty good at it! In comics he's cooked with Dick, learned to make chicken soup with his stepmom Dana when Steph was sick. We also see in the comics that Tim has prepared a full breakfast spread for when Jason shows up to a pre-arranged meeting to ask for information. Jason asks if the waffles are Alfred's recipe (apparently Alfred's one culinary sin is paste-like waffles lol) and is happy to sit down and munch when Tim assures him they aren't. He's also made pancakes for Steph and the family after patrol, a father's day dinner for Bruce, and a cake for Bernard! So Tim is a really good cook that doesn't really bother for just himself much. He prefers to go all out cooking for other people.

Cass: I don't know as much about Cass as I do the others (I need to read her stuff soon!) but I know she has terrible table manners and likes to sneak into her siblings and close friends apartments to eat their food, use their showers, and sleep. She has her own place, but she much prefers the homes and food of her loved ones. She also apparently didn't even blink at Alfred breaking into her home to stock her shelves with food, do laundry, and clean lol. With this I figure Cass doesn't really cook at all and just does take out, easy to eat meals that can be eaten cold or microwaved, and mooching off her loved ones' cooking and pantries!

[yoru-exe]

KINICH ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . heart eyes

kinich isn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, but if he's being honest, he thinks more than he feels. dealing with emotions has never been his strong suit. so when his system acted funny when he laid eyes on you — a total warrior-stranger at the stadium — it took a very long time for him to understand why he felt so.

when his heart refuses to cooperate, he relies on his wit, like he always does. he couldn't put his finger to his emotion yet, but he knows exactly what to do to something precious — he protects it, like the parcels his clients often entrust him with. so he starts to play the protector role whenever he teams up with you for assignments given by the archon. he look forward to those opportunities much more than he's willing to admit though.

for someone who preaches about allocating a specific amount of energy for task execution, seeing kinich giving extra effort into it sure raises some brows, of which his pixelated companion specifically wouldn't shut up about.

"are you planning to die sooner? that's why you wield your weapon even when i, almighty dragonlord, k'uhul ajaw is up here above all?", his evil laughter boomed in the sky, though fallen on the saurian hunter' deaf ears.

"just shut up and and clear this mess quickly. not like you're doing much anyway". he easily slashed away at an enemy, while ajaw fired is dragon breathe in annoyance, "how dare you!".

the battle ended much faster with them working together. while he didn't want to make it a habit for ajaw to think that he can sit back while he does the hard work, he definitely wanted you to feel so.

"thanks, but i can protect myself, you know."

"i know, but i still want to protect you".

kinich swore he saw your cheek turned reddish. did the heat bother you? it sure was quite sunny that day. before he could ask if you're feeling alright, you quickly moved to inspect the wound on his forearm, so he couldn't see your face anymore. but he's not one to oppose, so he left your to it.

it was a mission that the two of you embarked on a particularly long journey. throughout the travel, he got to know more about you, and each time you open your mouth to speak, he paid close attention to each word you said as if they were magical and he's enchanted.

then, by the time the mission completed, you arrived at a point that's closer to the scions of the canopy, so you expected to walk yourself home on your own. to your surprise, kinich had another plan.

"i'll take you home. do you have everything you need? we can rest first if you'd like to".

it took you a little while to process his action before responding, "but you'll have to circle back to your tribe. mine is still further ahead. you don't have to trouble yourself-".

"i don't mind".

kinich isn't a man of word, but his action speaks so loud that while he's still trying to figure out the emotion he feels towards you, you had already feeling the same for him.

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

i mean, idk, this idea randomly came to me while i was doing laundry of all thing. love at first sight kinich sounds kinda ooc imo? but i kinda like how this one goes sooo

[frightenedcricket]

Noah can't believe he is this nervous...

You are waking next to him and talking about your day. He has been waiting for this day for so long and is a mess. When did he decide it was a good idea to invite you for take-out and anime for your first date? What kind of first date is that?

When he opens the door and lets you in, you look around as if taking in the house. He thinks it's cute. You two set the food in the kitchen and you can't help but notice how nervous he is. But you don't say anything. Maybe it's just because it's your first date.

Are you thinking this is weird? Do you want to leave? Maybe you think he's only brought you here because he wants sex. Or perhaps you prefer something different? You wanted to go out to a fancy restaurant, right? Do you even like the food?

"Noah?"

"Mhm?"

"I asked where we are eating"

"Uh... I... Well. Do you want to set a nice table outside? I have candles?" He blushes instantly. This is ridiculous. Now he wants you to set your own table.

"Uh..." You frown and bite your nails. "I thought we were watching something"

"Yeah, we can do that"

It's strange because he sounded excited when he asked you on this date. Like, you were literally talking about the damn show you both like and he said why don't you come over one night so we can watch it together? We can order food. Like a date.

You try to not think much about it and do your best to not make him even more nervous.

You sit together on the floor to eat while watching the show, quietly commenting on what is happening on the screen.

But it's getting worse. He is stiff, and sometimes, it's like he doesn't want to be there. You are so done with it. You wanted to have a good time with a friend of yours you also happen to really like, not sit in awkward silence with him.

"Okay" You leave the sticks on the table and drink some water, then you turn to him and are so serious.

I'm done. He thinks. You are gonna leave and never agree to go out with him to fix this mess he's made.

"What's going on?" You say as you clasp your hands over your lap.

"Uh... He is looking for his broth-"

"No, what is going on with you, Noah?" You say and he swallows.

He is sweating. His face is burning and he feels so small.

"Nothing?"

"Then why the fuck do I feel I'm having dinner with a tree instead of you, huh?"

His eyes are big and he has to hide his hands because he is trembling.

"I'm sorry I dragged you here, you probably wanted something else. I know this is so shitty for a first date. This sounded like the best plan because we both like this and I'm pretty comfortable in my house, but I didn't think of what you wanted for a first date. If I haven't fucked up completely maybe I can make it up to you and take you to some place you like. It's so awkward... I'm really sorry, I didn't want you to think I wanted to bring you here to have sex or something I just..."

He stops abruptly because you are laughing, like genuinely laughing. He is so confused. Has he fucked up this bad? Really? Do you have to laugh on his face?

"Noah... Oh lord" You try to breathe as you fan his face.

"Okay, this wasn't necessary. You could have just declined. This is so rude"

Now it's your time to stop. You cover your mouth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, it wasn't my intention... I... Sorry" You grab his hands. "I'm sorry. I was laughing because... I don't want a fancy restaurant, Noah. I was so excited for this. Like... You are the only person I know who enjoys this show" You brush his knuckles with your thumbs and take a deep breath. "I'm sorry for laughing, I thought it was funny because I was really expecting this date"

Noah blinks a couple of times before frowning. "Really? Don't you prefer something else?"

"Noah, I like you a lot. I don't mind where we go... But I really like this because it's just us and something we have in common"

To say he is relieved is already something.

"I thought you were bored or something... Shit..." He finally smiles. "So you don't think this is a shitty date"

"I think this is an awesome date, Noah"

He laughs and looks at you with dreamy eyes and blushy cheeks. He is the cutest, for fucks sake.

"Plus, I wouldn't be so opposed to the sex thing"

"Oh, c'mon... Let me finish my dinner first or something"

You laugh loudly and pull him closer, taking him by surprise with a sweet kiss.

Thank you to @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard for the inspo!!

[natsuminmin]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ TWIRLING WARMTH -> sae itoshi !!!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ dancing with my phone by HYBS

synopsis; in which sae decides to unwind by using a tip you gave him cw: fluffy/crack fic , ldr , sae misses you , dancing , very ooc oh my god let me believe sae is secretly a massive lovefool , sae has a facetime auto answer feature (does that exist) , use of amor , gn! , unproofread + lowercase

"dancing, i'm all alone . figuring out how i can get you home"

living in his apartment without you was easy.

or so he thought.

he was currently sprawled across his bed, his arm stretched out automatically to make space for your warmth; which was unfortunately located a thousand miles away from madrid at this moment.

sae groaned, snatching his hand back immediately when he snapped out of his trance. how pathetic, he thought. he can't be caught wishing for cuddles like some lovesick fool, he should exercise more self-control than that!

naturally, he reached out for his phone to text you, like a normal person who doesn't yearn for his long-distance girlfriend would do:

[i miss you, amor.] 7:08 pm

[coming home soon, can't wait to see you.] 7:30 pm

yes, he really had impulsively booked a flight just to see you. yes, he was still definitely nonchalant. god, what have you turned him into?

it's only been an hour, but you still hadn't replied. he had to fight another dejected groan that threatened to erupt from his throat. but whatever. it was late in your place anyway, you were probably sleeping.

however, the fact that you would soon wake up to find his little suprise, calling him almost immediately, sent a little comfort to his sore bones. he really wanted to hear your voice.

ugh, seriously. what was in the air today?

frustrated, he exited the chat box and scrolled through his playlists. he reached a certain one that you and he made the last time he was with you.

he decided to listen to the music in there instead, that always relaxed him.

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

"sae, when are you coming home?"

your pretty voice came out warped from the speaker. he scoffed silently, the phone could never catch your beauty properly.

"sae."

"huh, what?" "i said, when are you coming home?"

"never. don't want to." "not even for me?" "especially not for you."

"ouch, sae."

he chuckled softly under his breath, the sun filtering through his room and in turn illuminating his eyes. you had ample time to observe his face which, thankfully, wasn't pixelated.

"you okay?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be?" you rolled your eyes. well, duh, he'd deny everything. your boyfriend was capable of many things. admitting he needed to cool off was not one of them apparently.

you hummed for a moment, thinking off into space as you watched sae rummage around for a blanket. then it clicked.

a sneaky grin spread across your face, oh yeah, he'll like this idea.

you set down your phone on the table, adjusting the camera so it showed your full body. then you grabbed your laptop and started playing music. was that.....pitbull???? mr worldwide???

sae watched you with disbelief. this was rare. he was never caught speechless. he blinked slowly as his eyebrows creased ever so slightly.

"what are you doing?"

"im dancing, sae. you should join me, it'll help you relax, you know?"

he saw you swaying side to side, twirling, bobbing around your head to the beat of the song, all with the biggest and goofiest smirk on your face. he scoffed, shaking his head at your antics. there was no way he was going to dance. ever.

"you look stupid. i'm ending the call right now."

"wait, no!"

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth as he recalled that memory. he wasn't much of a sentimental person, but he can make exceptions sometimes.

he just....stared at the phone for a few moments, gaping at the turning disc on the screen as he hummed absent-mindedly.

fine. he'll try dancing once. he'll see if it lived up to the hype.

he disconnected his headphones and raised the volume to max as he stood up from his bed. he scrolled through the playlist again, settling on his favorite. he felt awkward, so he tried to tap his foot to the beat.

hey, this was actually really fun.

soon, small taps of his foot moved to infect his shoulders. pretty much once the song ended, he was full on dancing. just as you had shown him to do. even that stupid twirl-hand wave (?) thing you did. he couldn't even explain it, but it was entertaining to do. he'll never tell you that you were right.

but unfortunately for him, you saw him already. he had left his laptop open, whose camera was perfectly facing straight ahead on his being.

you never wanted this to stop. you were having a blast. finally seeing your boyfriend have fun in what......months now? what a blessing. and so you remained silent, captivated by the incredibly awkward but endearing dance moves. stifling your laughs took so much of your restraint though.

sae should really turn off the auto-answer feature.

"dancing with my phone, thinking about you"

a/n: this came to me in a dream and is dedicated to my dearest sae luvr ILY ELO also the song he was dancing to was suisei - tofubeats (kariya seira) which according to the wiki is his fave IT IS SUCH A BOP BTW I LUV IT can uu tell i got lazy at the end hekp

[barbiegirldream]

Dream categorically understands the humiliation of being intellectually disabled that none of these people ever could whether he has an intellectual disability or not. He sat in a car with someone insulting his sexuality, his character, his intelligence and the entire internet said he was right to do it. Affirming that Dream was all the things he was called. And if the harassment wasn't enough now they're dancing around calling him slurs for not understanding what their double standards are about. For not being able to grasp why he can be called every slur ever but he can't ever push that humiliation away.

I know what that's like when you are becoming intellectually disabled and it was the most humiliating thing that ever happened to me.

I was 19 in college my second year of straight dean's listing. I could write a good 10 page paper in 2 hours. And then I started getting sick. Really sick. I couldn't hold a coherent conversation by my junior year of college. I couldn't think. I had my professor get the worst feeling in the world and call me. I was on the floor crying my eyes out all day because I had failed to get dressed that day. I could Not make my arms move. I went home for the semester.

I was 20 years old and my mother watched my arms shake as I tried to hold up a brush and my fingers slip as I tried to in a haze braid my hair to avoid all the tangles it was getting. So I sat in the shower and let my mother wash my hair and brush it. Every night she braided my hair. Every doctor's appointment she sat by my side to recount everything I was losing. Because I was losing my mind and my intelligence, my body wasn't listening cause that's an aspect of intellectual disabilities people forget. I was humiliated everyday. I was sick of myself as much as my body was sick of me.

So to see all these people online insist they have the strongest and most correct opinion about slur discourse, you don't. You have no idea what humiliation looks like or you wouldn't be Doing this. You wouldn't engage in these campaigns. People want to reclaim some power by acting like all intellectual disabilities are something good and something to be proud of. Which maybe in some cases I don't know. But I would give anything to have my brain back to how it was. Literally anything. So no I do not care what words people use when there is real material harm done on such a grand scale it's become like tv entertainment for these people

[cinnamonest]

ah to be a girl that was dating modern!scara for some time bc she thought he was a mysterious uwu discord mod type, only to find out he’s just an incel who acts like he hates you even tho still fucking you and everything.. he doesn’t do much aside it, though. so after some time, you break up with him. or, well, tried to! it’s not like you have a right to break up with him after willingly deciding to date him, right?

happy new year, by the way! 🎉

Oh and he’s so awful as it is, literally the peak of trashy, toxic boyfriends.

Always dumping labor off on you because he knows you'll take care of whatever task it is eventually anyway, subtly guilt-tripping you all the time, always saying little things to make you insecure about this or that (just to be sure you don't get any ideas, or think anyone else would ever want you).

The sort of boyfriend that is careful about the steps he takes — God forbid he come across as insecure or desperate — but is manipulative and wears your psyche down nonetheless.

There’s a constant, but well-pulled-off effort to always ensure you feel that you’re the one that cares more, that you’re the one that’s more invested, that he’s the one who could easily pull away from you and be just fine, that you need him more than he needs you.

But this situation is particularly bad because he's just so deluded about it.

It's one of those relationships where, one day out of the blue, you halt mid-task and suddenly find yourself asking — why am I doing this to myself?

You realize you became so accustomed to it all so easily, it was just gradual enough that you never really noticed how miserable you are, until one day you just do.

So you do it. You summon up the courage to look him in the eye and say you're done.

And what you get in return is essentially a non-reaction. Rolled eyes and a long sigh of exasperation, some muttered comment about how you're being overdramatic.

He was prepared for this kind of thing, see. Females are known to do this. They don't actually mean they're breaking up with you. It's a test. They just do that sort of thing. A test designed to scare the guy and make him apologize for some mistake and get attention and doting and stuff. Very manipulative of them (but what's new).

But he's not the sort of weak loser that falls for that stuff, he knows what you're doing. So he shrugs it off, doesn't even turn around, says something about how you've threatened to leave several times now.

Then you say you mean it.

You get a sigh and a ‘yeah, sure,’ and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from lashing out about how that uncaring attitude is part of why you’re doing this to begin with.

And you storm out the door, not bothering to even glance back.

Which is surprising — didn't think you'd actually do it, but your petulance knows no bounds, apparently. Still, this is also predictable, a common form of aforementioned testing, a humiliation ritual of sorts intended to make him suck up to you.

So he gives you a few hours, but you don't send the expected text saying you're sorry and that you overreacted and please please just forget it and move on and all the other stuff you're supposed to say.

And the sun sets, and you're not back.

Oh, so you're being spiteful. Trying to make him think you “mean it” by going silent, and thereby trying to out-wait him. You think if you keep this up, he'll be the first one to break, to give in and try to get you back. This whole thing is designed for you to feel some kind of power at his expense. Well, you're wrong.

And then another day passes.

God. Unbelievable.

You're actually doing this out of pure spite, just stubbornly waiting for him to come get you.

…And here he is, now doing exactly that, like an idiot, so he mutters to himself as he finally leaves to go get you. Not that he's giving in to what you want, it's just that this is getting ridiculous and his patience for your antics has run out.

Still, he tells himself this isn't so bad, because you were probably looking forward to some sick satisfaction from getting him to beg to know where you are. Little do you know he prepared for this sort of situation, that's why there's a tracker in your purse and on your phone and in your car and such. You're not going to get any groveling out of him.

You're so manipulative. You're really lucky he puts up with you and tolerates such toxic behavior.

Likewise, he's not about to beg for you either — he knows the game you're playing, that all your pleading and fighting back and ‘I meant it!’-s are part of the schtick. Just accept that you're not going to get the entirety of what you want. You'll get the part where he takes you back like you wanted, but he has too much self-respect to plead with you. You'll just skip to the part where you come home — you're so stubborn, not getting what you want will undoubtedly make you dig your heels in and squeal and all that, but it's really no big deal. Being so childish about it is a choice that just reflects badly on you.

[miamooooo]

josh is so obsessed with you that he's gotta have his camera on you all the time. he thinks you're the cutest thing ever, he just can't resist ♡

ty @nerd-space for the idea aahhh this was tew freakin good

(warnings): suggestive/nsfw

josh is the type of boyfriend to obsess over you and have pictures of you in every format. he's got a folder dedicated to pictures and videos of you in his phone, he has a stack of polaroids in a box, he's got sooo many candid photos from his digital camera that he uploads to his laptop. he probably even has you as his wallpaper.

if you're the type of person that hates pictures or is just camera-shy, he'll make sure you learn to love them and get comfortable. at first you would probably be annoyed when you're just minding your business and randomly hear a click of a camera and josh murmuring out a playful 'beautiful.'

you could be studying and he's just... staring. he thinks you're so cute when you're all focused, and honestly staring just isn't enough for him. he'll pull out his phone and silently snap a few pictures of you and then end up showing you with a smile on his face, telling you how cute you are.

"josh, i don't like those pictures. delete them."

"aww, c'mon babe! you're gorgeous."

he's sososo obsessed with you that he doesn't even think you have a bad pic.

he has secret photos of you sleeping that he'll probably never willingly show you unless you find them yourself... and ngl you'd probably kill him for it. josh has videos of him poking your cheek while you're napping and if you're a snorer, omg you're not safe. he has videos of you snoring and you can hear his little laughs in the background. he's a big tease.

while still on the topic of sleeping, he loves taking more sexual photos of you even when you're not trying. you could be laying in bed with nothing but a huge t-shirt on and he's already got his camera out to take pictures of you, climbing on the bed and hovering over you while you shyly pose for him. and gosh he just can't get enough of you!

"so pretty for me.." he's murmuring to himself, bringing the camera back up to his face to snap some more pics of you.

god forbid if he gets a glimpse of what's under the shirt because he'd make you lift it up so he could take some more photos. he's a big pervert.

josh definitely has a load of dirty pictures of you in his phone.

when you guys are having sex, he records you when you're unaware of it at first. you'd be riding him, eyes screwed shut, hands tightly gripping his shoulders as you bounce in his lap and he thinks you're the hottest thing ever. he can't resist grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

"mph..! oh god, feels so— no! put it away!" you moan out, face heating up as you try to grab the phone from his hands but he's moving his arms away.

"nono, keep going babe.. mmh yeah— you look so fucking good."

if you're not around and he's missing you, he'll go through his phone to look at all of your pretty pictures. he'll start to inspect every little detail about his favorite pictures and his mind will start to wander to dirtier places. he definitely ends up jerking off to some of your pictures.

once you get more comfortable around the camera, josh is like the happiest boyfriend on the planet. he's literally your number 1 hypeman and he lives for every second of it. he's just soo fucking happy that you're finally starting to see what he's seeing and gosh once you really start to embrace it, he doesn't even know how much hotter you could possibly get.

"babe! do you like this outfit? i think it's super cute. can you take a picture of me really quick?"

"hell yeah, sweetheart."

you don't have to tell him twice. he's grabbing your phone and taking several pictures of you, hyping you up and telling you to give him your sexiest pose. he'd probably end up getting distracted after a few more pictures before deciding that he's horny and wants to fuck you.

[siri-ike]

@murderandjam I gotchu

"ALL THE ASSASSIN TRAINING IN THE WORLD COULDN'T KEEP THIS BOY SAFE!!!" Jazz thought, calmly drinking her morning tea. "HOW DID HE MANAGE TO GET HIMSELF KILLED?!?!" The kitchen TV was playing the news. “This is the first time anyone has managed to capture a clean image of the ‘ghost boy of Amity Park.’”

Years of assassin training had taught her not to show signs of disstress. If she had stayed, she could probably still hide the twitch in her eye. Could she really only keep him alive for a measly 7 years? That's only 6 years, 11 months, and 24 days longer than the Fentons would have managed.

Maybe the leagues methods were right. She should have trained him from the start... made him strong... made him... hide who he was... spend his whole life pretending. No, she didn't want him to have to live like her. He had been young enough to forget. She'd be lying if she said all the secrecy didn't wear on her. But lying was what she was good at.

Over the next couple of months, she watches him from afar. Ready to jump in, were he knocked out or overpowered. No need to mention how often she disposes of a troublesome ghost for gaining the upper hand. It seems cruel to keep so many in a single thermos. But they don't matter. Keeping her little brother safe is the only thing that matters.

But then, he disappears. Replaced by his older self. One timeline led to another and, well.

It's a lot harder to keep the idiot alive when he knows she's there. With all the extra effort she had to put into staying in character within a completely new set of circumstances, she noticed far too late that he had started acting differently. He was distant, tired, and his response time suffered. But when Maddie started talking about military school, that's when she knew she had to do something.

"Dad?" She addressed the large man across the kitchen table. A man who looked nothing like her father or any of her former carers. "Tell me about your side of the family." Sweetly, remember, no hint of ulterior motives.

After endless ramblings, including the Fenton-Nightingales, his mother's double mastectomy before he was born, and his fathers constant disappearances. Despite endless evidence, he still never realized he was the product of an affair. Although, he had also given her pediatrician the same information, so he might just not be well-versed with the birds and bees in general.

The moment he got to Uncle Harvey, Jasmine stopped him."Tell me about Harvey." Subtle, let him think it was his idea.

She knew who the man was, with his impressive arrest record and, most importantly, apartment in Gotham. Which just so happened to have a Lazarus pit. Lazarus water had a positive effect on ghosts. And there was no way she was telling anyone how she found that out.

The conversation played out exactly as she'd planned. Jack went on and on, and Maddie suggested sending Danny there instead. Despite the flawless execution, she knew her real parents would have found some error, some way Jasmine had failed.

Sam and Tucker didn't take much convincing. They'd noticed his rapid decline already. And found out about Dani. After a violation like that, they barely needed a push. It didn't hurt that they were still a bit agitated from the ecto acne.

Danny was a harder sell. She put all her big sistering and physiological tricks to work, and still had to pull out the "military school" card.

She did still make him bring a ghost thermos and a picture of the guy. Getting kidnapped most likely wouldn't improve his overall condition.

As much as she wants to be there to keep him safe, that's not what he needs right now, and she knows it. He needs to relax. And unfortunately, that's not in her skill set.

The following hours were awkward. What was she supposed to do with just Sam and Tucker?

Thank the pit for the ghost alert conveniently popping off every 15 minutes or so, keeping the kids distracted. That gave her plenty of time to deal with her 4am visitor.

Jasmine Al Ghul

silly almost crack prompt of a roll reversal story twist on the typical demon brothers.

Jasmine is an Al Ghul. I personally am imaging her as damains sister/half sister. As a girl she was never going to be heir but she trained and studied diligently. She was incredibly adapt at physicalizing her targets and strategy. Once she figured out how a target thinks, it was easy to take them apart, even easier to get them to take themselves out.

so it really isn't that surprising to realize she's expendable to the league. so she leaves, not dramatically, not with a death. on a mission to the States she cuts out all her trackers, leaves behind her swords, and heads to a random rural town.

there she's found a boy who calls himself danny and takes her home. she's adopted and throws herself into her new life. she focuses hard on psychology both because it's familiar, and because it teaches her how to act normal.

if she focuses her attention on sweet (innocent) danny, then she is repaying his kindness of taking her in. if she needs to hunt to eat, well it's nothing compared to league training, she will get enough food for both of them. if she can fix danny's problems then no one will pay attention to hers.

Jasmine Fenton. Straight A's student (because she can never be anything less than perfect). someone who's friendly but doesn't make friends (because they can't get too close). Obsessed with her future career and college (as highschoolers often are). A doting older sister (she needs to protect danny, her hands are already bloody his doesn't need to be). A teenage daughter exasperated with her parents (that one isn't exactly a lie.)

Jasmine Fenton. a normal girl. that's what she is. that's all she is. she's made sure of it. the girl with the al ghul name disappeared 7 years ago. she never existed in the first place according to the league.

Jazz plans to keep it that way.