#I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO TAG THIS HEAD IN HANDS

[nezuscribe]

you should be here.

you really shouldn’t be here.

but you were a good friend, maybe too good a friend one would argue, and one of your girls heard about this underground gig (boxing, fighting?) going on and roped you into going.

and knowing you, this was way out of your comfort range. she was shocked you agreed to it, but you were tired of being perceived as the sheltered on and decided to bite the bullet and tag along.

but now you realize that you should’ve just stayed home and rewatched some stupid show.

because this place was giving you all sorts of signals to just get out.

it was in what seemed like a dingy warehouse that could only be accessed through some sketchy alley. you truly have no idea how she found this place and your betting that it wasn’t some ad she told you she saw on someone’s story.

the vast room was barely lit, with only a few lights flickering as they struggled to stay on. you felt like you’d catch an undiscovered disease if you sat anywhere and opted to stand, but that was another issue.

despite how destitute this place seemed to be, it was packed.

there were so many people standing near the ring, everybody yelling praises or shouts of anger as somebody took a punch. you could hear skin hitting skin, could hear the breaking of tissues and bones even from where you were.

your friend dragged you by the arm, seeming as if there was no worry about this place, and it was too late to go back even though the alarms in your head were going off.

fuck, you start thinking, what is this place? what if you bump into someone weird? what if the cops come? what if the location gets leaked? what would happen to you two? what if….

your mind trails off as your friend wiggles her way through an empty spot, bringing the two of you closer to the ring.

you look at the fighters, mouth going dry at the sight.

one of the fighters, the one facing you, seemed bloodied to no return. his eye was black and weeks shut, nose dripping with blood. his face was salted with bruises, his body sagging as the other fighter, the one with his back to you, took another fighting stance.

“he’s who i wanted to see,” bri mutters excitedly, pointing her finger to the fighter with white hair, “i’ve heard he’s really good,”

you nod slowly, looking around in a skittish way. you knew you should’ve said no, but you really cleave no choice but to support her and her dangerous side quests.

he plants another fist to the injured one’s face, making him stumble back as the white haired fighter angles his body sideways, letting you two get a look at his side profile.

he seemed fine, a little bruising on the cheek but nowhere near the damage of the other guy. he must be as good as bri says you guess.

the people around you hoot and holler, pushing you further into on of the poles as you wince in discomfort, your face twisting in pain a little as some of the men behind you push forward with no concept of personal space.

you look over at bri but she’s just as engaged, shouting for the white haired guy to continue beating the other man up in ways that could only be described as primal and very, very illegal.

it’s only a few more minutes before the match is ended and the two fighters are pulled away from each other, the battered one looking like he was one punch away from becoming limp.

the yells around you grow louder and louder, the sound rattling around in your head. you wince, trying to smile for bri as she jumps up and down. you know this is only the beginning of the night and can’t afford to bring the energy down.

the white haired one turns around, raising his hands as he asks for the noise to grow louder, a smile on his face as his bandaged hands curl into fists, one pumped victoriously in the air.

but that’s not what takes you by surprise.

your eyes widen in shock when you see his face, mouth dropping almost comically when you realize this isn’t a random street fighter,

but the nerdy boy who sits next to you in your neuroanatomy class.

and judging by the way gojo looks around until he sees you, the proud smile on his face faltering for a second before his eyes cloud with utter confusion,

he wasn’t expecting to see you here either.

[bunny-jpeg]

wife

mark webber

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/47), wife kink, height difference, breeding kink, wife!reader, summertime fic, verbal worship

a/n: do you have baby fever? you do now! *flashbangs*

kimi raikkonen ver. - sebastian vettel ver. - jenson button ver.

while summer wasn't your favourite season you were happy at the very least that there had been a fair bit of sun. your little pet project had become helping your husband out in the garden behind the house you lived in. you had been mostly taking online summer courses for your degree prior to this year, but now that your degree was finally done you were a little more helpful outside. plus, you were never going to say no to be away from your desk.

you suggested to mark, that you start looking for a 'big girl job' and your loving, older husband simply patted you on the head and said, "take the summer off, you deserve a break!"

but you had a different idea of what break meant. you thought it was going to be a few months until the weather cooled down while mark through the break would end once your first child started primary school.

mark's hand grazed your lower back as he leaned in towards you while you were bent over giving your attention to the tomato plant. his touch was comforting, yet firm. he remarked with humor, "you take care of them so well. you're like their mother." and then laughed.

"i wouldn't say that, honey." you replied as you were upright once more. your husband wrapped his arms around you and pressed up against you.

something had been filling his mind lately. he was almost in his fifties! he thought it was about time that you two did a little family planning. the world of racing would like another webber and he thought you were the perfect woman to have them.

didn't help that he had been having a reoccurring dream. mrs. webber, happily greeting him with his son at your hip and pregnant with your second child, a daughter. kid looked just like him and you always had dinner ready for your little sprouting family. it itched a part of his brain that mark didn't think was possible. he wanted to see you pregnant with his child.

he placed a hand on your middle. it was already a little softer, but the idea of you with his child made a fire light in him. he held on and kissed your cheek with a gentle affection.

"let's go inside for a bit. too much sun isn't good for you." he said softly, even though the sun was now hidden behind some fluffy white clouds. mark loved how much smaller you felt compared to him. he was close to six foot two so he had to look down at you. especially when you were tucked away at his side.

softer, gentler, younger. near perfect to be the mother to his children. because you weren't going to stop at one, mark might be getting up there in age. but he could still keep up and keep you full.

he loved looking at you. your skin warmed by the sun. you had an old baseball cap of his on that you wore while you gardened, but mark had it off of you while he was shepherding you into the bedroom.

his wide hands on your hips as he got you into the room. he made his size difference known and it turned you on. it was quite the feeling that leapt in your chest. him being domineering as his hands then trailed up under your shirt.

he playfully scolded you, "you need to wear some sunscreen. i don't want to anything about my wife getting a sunburn." then kissed your cheek before the t-shirt was pushed up to just under your breasts. exposing your middle to him.

you soon stood there in your shorts, underwear and socks. your dirty shoes left by the door and your t-shirt thrown to the floor to be washed later. mark licked his lips and cupped your breasts in your bra with fondness. gonna need a bigger size in a few months. he exhaled before he leaned in for a deep kiss. he continued to undress you slowly. fuck, you looked beautiful. pretty breasts, soft curves, all belonged to mark webber. the thought made him hard.

he kissed you before he got his shirt off and kissed you again before he full got undressed. you ended up on the bed and he continued to kiss you deeply.his large hands roamed your beautiful body.

you moaned under his kisses and held onto his shoulders. your short nails dug into the skin for a moment as his kisses grew in passion. with a want in his gut for you. he groaned against in the kiss as his cock throbbed while pressed against your middle.

"fuck honey, i knew i had to have you all to myself. look at you." he said between heavy breaths. he got you on your back, further up the bed and said, "how did i get so lucky?" he got between your legs, "they don't make them like you anymore." he said cheekily as he rubbed his hard cock up against your slick entrance.

you blushed as you felt mark's cock up against you. you replied, "they don't make them like you anymore either."

mark adored you. he was deeply loving and protective. if he was protective now, imagine when you were having his baby?he soon sank into you and he loved the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his aching cock. his slice of paradise. he fit perfectly inside of you, his wife.

"fuck, mark." you groaned as you felt the euphoric state down to your nerves. you didn't think you'd crave sex as much as you did with mark.

he kissed your face with a gentle force. he clutched onto your soft thighs, "honey, you feel so good. i love you, i love you so much. you are the most - fuck - beautiful woman i've ever laid eyes on." his thrusts were steady as he pressed as far as he could inside of you. the two of you were chest to chest.

his cock nudged against your spongy warmth. mark was hefty in the cock department. he was big, but knew you took it beautifully. even under him, letting him take you with no protective. but he was certain that your body was needy for him.

mrs. webber with her two children, playing in the yard while her loving husband tended to your tomato plants. a domestic bliss. mark webber's little family, his pride and joys. mark loved it and maybe when they were in bed. he'd get to feel his wife's curves again.

"you feel amazing, honey. fuck, you're my angel. perfect beyond measure. look at you. all mine. the wife to end all wives." his thrusts grew stronger.

even at his age, he could still keep up. you couldn't even tease him because you would just be lying. more often you tapped out before mark could ever break a sweat.

his pace continued, it was heavier. his movements were more desperate, he needed his cute little wife. he was smart by putting a ring on you. maybe he should've waited till after you graduated before you got married, but you were already putting webber on assignments by accident.

now he could spend all summer making a baby with you. you have that free time, letting him fuck you, make love to you, breed you. the headboard creaked up against the wall while he thrusted up into you. he heavily panted and he kept up the pace. he wanted you deeply, like a throb in his body while he worked your core.

your back arched a little, you held onto the covers for support while mark shifted your hips a little and continued to fuck you at a pace that left you breathless. sweet noises left your lips as he continued to feverishly fuck you. the leap in your heart as the need for more pleasure grew.

"mark."

"yes, honey?" he panted as he held onto you tighter. the race in his soul and the excitement coursed through him.

"i need you." you gasped as the pleasure only mounted in your body. it was near overwhelming, you felt the leap in your pulse and the sweat on your body. to mark it looked painfully erotic. you felt the heightened euphoria, your soul begged for your husband. you knew that mark's main kink was you. you as his wife. you as the mother of his children. he had a thing for your carrying that title. it fit you lovely, just like his cock in you.

as it should be.

you were so close to your orgasm, close to being pushed over the euphoric edge. you panted heavily, he felt amazing against you. you were so needy when mark gave you that pleasure you desired. you could taste it in your throat. the noises got sweeter, pathetic in a beautiful way. you held on tighter to the covers as the feeling only grew in you.

mark shuddered and continued his heavy thrusts. he could feel it as well which only spurred him on to continue his movements. he wanted to make you feel the best you could possibly feel. to pour his love into you, a certain deep devotion that left you yearning for more.

"cum for me, baby. my honey, my wife, cum for me." he groaned as he dug his hands into your hips. with a few more thrusts he finished inside of you.

he kept his pace steady in a post-orgasmic bliss. running on a certain primal instinct as he hiked your hips up further and fucked your pussy. he fucked you through your orgasm as your back arched and you held onto the covers tightly for support. the pleasure consumed you and it left you panting and hot all over.

"beautiful." he slowed his pace to a stop. he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. he pulled out and got you into his arms while he laid next to you in bed. your leg over his hip as you laid facing him. your cheek against his chest. his words were so much softer as he said, "you're the perfect wife. you do everything for me, and i do everything for you."

-

"aw c'mon!" you huffed as you tried to get a better look at the tomato plant. the problem was that there was too much of the plant in your way to check on what you needed to see. the thing had grown like a monster over the early parts of summer!

"honey.. baby." mark said as he picked up your small daughter to see what was troubling you, "why don't you try getting a chair to sit down." he placed a hand on your lower back.

you exhaled, "i'm fine, i'm fine." you were currently four months pregnant with your second child. your daughter, stella, was three now and excited to be a big sister. you were still a stubborn little wife despite mark's guidance to relax.

you rubbed your lower back and looked to your daughter, "next year you'll help daddy and i pick all the tomatoes, right?" then tickled your daughter's middle which made the little girl laugh loudly.

she nodded eagerly and mark kissed her on the top of the head. already a total daddy's girl. you said you had dibs on being your second child's favourite.

mark gave you a small kiss on the cheek and said, "better yet, how about you sit with stelly-belly and i get you both something to drink and i'll check the plants?" his eyes lingered on your round middle, "you're not wonder woman, honey. and before our second peanut is born, why don't you enjoy today?"

you sighed, reluctant. but once you got an armful of your daughter you had no choice but to take a seat. you knew you weren't going to win this fight. you leaned in to kiss him before you headed towards the patio furniture near by.

"hey!" mark said and you looked over. he pointed at you, "not too much sun alright, don't need my girls getting a sunburn today." then winked at you. he smiled. he couldn't be happier, he had everything he needed and so much more <3

[wcnderlnds]

bae bae | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: after a night out at club pentagon you end up in bed with your friend who has zero shame ・❥・word count: 1.6k ・❥・warnings: 18+. mdni. oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, thanos is rough. swearing. mentions of drugs, female reader. ・❥・ authors note: ... this is pure filth, im so sorry. also this is pre-squid game <3 i also havent added my taglist in case people dont want to be tagged in smut but if you do let me know!!

The whole night had been a blur. How you’d ended up back in your own bed you had no idea but thankfully you’d made it home safe. The music from Club Pentagon still echoed through your ears like an anthem constantly playing in your head. You opened your eyes, your hands coming up to rub them with the palm of your hands. What time was it? You leaned over, grabbing your phone off the bedside table to see it was 3am. With a groan, you buried your head back into the safety of your pillow making a mental note to yourself to never drink so much again. All you could remember was that it had been a rough day, so bad that your friend Su-bong had decided a night out at his favourite club was the perfect remedy. So much for listening to him. That was on you, really. None of his ideas were ever good. They mostly consisted of drowning feelings in alcohol or taking one of his colourful little pills to forget what was going on.

As your thoughts drifted to him, a quiet groan filled the room causing you to perk up. It was coming from next to you so you just had to assume it was Thanos making noises in his sleep. He did that often – his nightmares coming frequently. If he was next to you that meant he had been the one to bring you home. A big thank you was in order for him in the morning when you could handle being awake. If your pounding head was anything to go by, you were going to have one hell of a hangover. Your eyes closed once again as you tried to drift back off to sleep. Just as you were on the verge of falling asleep, you heard a grunt.

Okay, what was going on here?

You turned around, sitting up slightly as you took in the scene before you. Yeah, there Thanos was. Everything seemed normal until you saw his chest rising and falling rapidly, movement under the blankets catching your eye. Your brows furrowed. This man wasn’t doing what you thought he was doing in your bed, was he? Only one way to find out.

Maybe it was your hungover mind but the thought of what you might find excited you. The way he was biting his lower lip to keep quiet only fueling your intrusive thoughts. Your fingers grasped the blanket, pulling it off. Well, you were right.

There he was, hand wrapped around his cock as he jerked himself off. Your eyes fixated on his hand that began speeding up, his hips bucking off the bed for more friction. Oh, he was really into this. How had he not realised you’d caught him? Part of you wanted to watch him finish, the throbbing between your legs thinking for you more than your brain. You hadn’t even realised how into this you were until you caught yourself slipping. There had been moments in the past where the two of you had almost hooked up but it had never gone past making out. Something always got in the way whether it was his friend Nam-gyu interrupting or his need to take another pill – it never led anywhere.

You cleared your throat deciding it was better to let him know you’d caught him than let him carry on. His eyes flew open, his hand still as he looked at you. He wasn’t embarrassed – you were certain he didn’t even know that emotion. He just looked at you expectantly, pushing himself to sit up slightly, his erection still standing for the world to see. 

“What?” He asked unbothered, annoyed even that you’d stopped him.

“I just caught you jerking yourself off and you don’t care?” You blinked at him. This was Thanos, of course he didn’t care. He had no shame.

“Why the fuck would I? Now, you gonna let me finish or help me out here.” He gestured towards his cock, his hand slowly stroking himself again.

As you watched, you couldn’t help but be transfixed. He knew what he was doing and it was working. The cogs in your brain were working overtime as you fought with helping him or ignoring him and letting take care of himself. He could see it, the smirk on his face making him look even more attractive. ‘Fuck it’, you thought. 

“Fine, you’ll owe me one, though.”

“No problem, Senorita. Now get those pretty lips wrapped around my dick.”

You didn’t have time to react before his hand came up to your head, pushing you down towards his hardened length. Your tongue darted out, teasing the head but he wasn’t having it. He was too horny for teasing. He needed to have his cock stuffed down your throat or he was going to go insane. So, without warning, he pushed your head down onto him. It took you by surprise, almost choking but you steadied yourself, hands gripping his hips as you finally found a rhythm. Your lips moved up and down his length, tongue flattening out against the underside of his cock.

“Mhmm, just like that, pretty girl,” he rasped in that deep voice of his, his fingers tangling in your hair pushing you down onto him. You felt him hit the back of your throat almost gagging on him before he pulled you back up. “You’re doing so good.”

The praise was turning you on more than you’d like to admit. Your lips wrapped around him again, taking him as deep as you could without choking but it wasn’t enough. His hips bucked up into your mouth, his hand firmly tangled in your hair. You decided to give up and let him have his way. He felt your mouth slacken, the feral grin on his face letting you know he was more than willing to fuck your mouth stupid.

His grunts and groans filled the room as he thrust up into your mouth at a rapid pace. You could feel his cock twitching each time he hit the back of your throat. Tears sprang at the corner of your eyes as you gagged on him, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m so fuckin’ close.”

Just as you were sure he was about to finish, he yanked your head off him, pushing you back down onto the bed. In a frenzy, he pushed the skirt up you were wearing, pulling your panties to the side. He slid his index finger along your pussy, almost groaning at how wet you were when he hadn’t even done anything. You were so damn desperate, he loved every second of it. “Wanna come inside this sweet, little pussy. You gonna let me, baby?”

He dragged his cock along your folds coating himself in your slickness and that was game over for you. Frantically, you nodded your head. That was all he needed. He pushed himself inside you in one deep thrust. The loud moan you let out surprised you, Thanos’s eyes almost rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of finally being inside you after all this time. No interruptions, no need for a high. This was the only high he needed. He’d been missing out. He pushed your legs up and over his shoulders, pulling his cock almost all the way out and thrusting inside once again. His pace was anything but gentle, the tight grip he had on your hips sure to leave bruises. Your hands gripped the bedsheets below you as he pounded into you. There was no way you were going to last long if he kept this up but then again neither was he. You could tell with the way his eyebrows scrunched up that he was holding back. At least he wasn’t selfish in the bedroom.

“Su-bong,” you moaned, back arching as you felt your orgasm fast approaching. The moaning of his name was almost his undoing.

“Yeah? You like that, huh? Like being fucked stupid by your best friend?” He panted, the sound of his hips slapping against yours echoing off the walls of the small room. The bed occasionally banging against the wall with the intensity of his thrusts. Your neighbours were definitely going to have something to say about it in the morning. “Come for me. Wanna feel you squeezin’ the life outta me.”

One particular hard thrust and that was it. A loud, almost pornographic moan fell from your lips as you saw stars. Your fingers pulled at the sheets, legs quivering as your orgasm washed over you. Thanos didn’t let up his pace, his eyes drawn to where your bodies were joined as he fucked into you. The feeling of your walls squeezing around his cock bringing him closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck, fuck. Gonna come. Gonna fill you up real good.”

It took one, two more thrusts when he stilled inside you, his cock twitching as he came harder than he had in his life. He was sure he saw the whole damn universe, throwing his head back as he groaned. His hips shallowly thrust into you, pulling out once he’d finished. Did he clean you up? Nah. He flopped back down next to you, grabbing his vape off the bedside.

“We should’ve done that a long time ago,” he chuckled, taking a puff. He handed it over to you, his lazy eyes meeting yours. “Do I still owe you one?”

You took a hit of the vape, nodding your head as you passed it back to him. “Oh, hell yeah you do. Not getting out of it that easily.”

“Was hoping you’d say that,” he winked at you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and bringing you into his side. It wasn’t cuddling but it was something to show you his appreciation. Better than nothing.

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader

Prompt by anon + Idea for reader's nationality by anon

Synopsis: After more than 10 years with the same hairdresser, Melissa Schemmenti must change salons.

Tag list: (Since this is my first time writing for this character, I thought it best not to tag anyone. So if you want to be tagged just let me know.)

Warning: MELISSA AND Y/N ARE MAaaaD *in Ava's voice*

Words: 4k

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Enjoy!

Link on AO3

Chapter 1 - Changes

Barbara Howard's friendship had a transformative impact on Melissa Schemmenti's personal life from the beginning.

The religious woman's friendship at the beginning of the redhead's career made the Italian woman rethink many things about herself. Regardless of their moral differences, how their individual relationships with religion are almost opposite, or even their small disagreements, one thing right at the beginning turned Melissa's world upside down.

The once chaotic and disorganized woman discovered the calming practicality of being hostage to well-established standards with a Christmas gift from her black coworker in her second year working at Abbott Elementary.

A schedule with a small calendar.

The year she received that gift, the redhead was furious with what was left written between the lines.

Disorganization.

After all, Melissa had absolutely everything under control.

She always had.

In her own way.

And Melissa also thought it was stupid to waste precious time that could be spent working by just planning to work, but after a terribly inconsistent semester (with more art, music and physical education teachers being fired than she can count on one hand), the redhead decided to give it a try.

So, 22 years ago Melissa started to use a schedule and a calendar every year faithfully and never looked back.

As she got older, the certainty of her upcoming appointments and how easy was to change what was needed on that sheet of paper to make better use of her time kept Melissa calm even during all the chaos that continued to live in her head and in her classroom every day. But everything changed when the spaces on pages that were reserved especially for her monthly visits to her family's hairdresser were now blank.

Rationally, the redhead knew that the hairdresser who had taken care of her grandmother's hair for the last twenty years of her life, two of her aunts out of town, washed and cared for her mother's hair every week, and three of her sisters periodically couldn't last long. But Melissa couldn't help but feel fooled and betrayed when Andrea Rossi announced her retirement.

The redhead hadn't been Andrea's client for her entire life, after all, the older hairdresser's regular clients had always been her priority. However, Melissa began to be part of the select group of Schemmenti women helped by Andrea when her former hairdresser (the one who had a Greek accent and many opinions that she hated but didn't discuss because he was her brother-in-law's friend), decided to call her Melinda, even after having her as a client for over three years.

Melinda.

Even though it was seventeen years ago, Barb still remembers the angry redheaded hurricane that entered the teachers’ lounge that week and still manages to make jokes about it whenever she gets the chance.

Monthly visits to the older woman had started with a simple hair color, but unlike her old hairdresser, Andrea had become much more than that for Melissa.

It was a ritual, a moment of care that for a long time brought her joy and confidence. It was talking animatedly with an Italian woman who showed her affection and care, something neither of them would admit out loud but was lacking in the Schemmenti family when it came to recognizing Melissa’s efforts and personal victories.

And now it was over.

“Ragazza (girl), don’t be like that… I’m old now, my hands hurt more than I can handle after a busy weekend,” Andrea tried to justify, stroking Melissa’s head with a tender smile as she finished coloring her hair that day, but which did not hide the weight of the decision.

“And what am I going to do now? Let the gray hair give me another 30 years in less than 6 months?”

“Don’t be silly! I’ve already transferred all my clients to hairdressers that I trust. You included! So stop it now!”

“I don’t want someone new.” Turning uncertainty into resistance is like armor for the redhead, even though she knows she has no choice, her brain still tries to break the meaning of Andrea’s retirement, “It’s going to mess up my entire schedule, Andrea! Two rooms and now with you gone? I almost went crazy with the first semester of the year alone, now I know I’ll as soon as classes start after winter break!”

“I know that, Melissa. That’s why I talked to the hairdressers I know, and the best choice for you is Y/N, my last trainee. She’s great, hard-working, very talented and was willing to easily change her own clients’ schedule to see you at the same time I see you every month, she also works just five minutes away from here. You’ll like her.”

“But I don’t know her.” Even though she didn’t admit it, the idea of ​​a stranger touching her hair disturbed Melissa deeply, and the murmur that left her mouth made a point of emphasizing this.

The change came too quickly, and with it, a wave of anxiety took over Melissa's heart. This feeling was temporarily drowned out by her more than exhausting end-of-year routine. She was the hostess of the Schemmenti family's Thanksgiving dinner, and this, along with the end of the year, drained her ability to think about her other problems. But when the following month arrived, and along with the return to school after winter break, her colorless hair also started to show again, so Melissa swallowed her pride and went to the salon that Andrea had recommended to her.

Riverfront Roots.

The name was silly, a clear reference to the Delaware River that Melissa preferred not to think about too much as she looked at the large letters printed on the facade of the place. As soon as she entered the new salon, the smell of hair products and the sound of blow dryers buzzing caught her attention. The place was modern and well-decorated, but Melissa couldn't feel completely at ease. The smell was different, the decor was different, the voices were different, and the redhead hated each of these things.

She wasn't so reluctant to little changes in her daily life, but that week was so exhausting. The two classes together made a point of actively getting on her nerves, Gary also changed some of the lemonade brands in the vending machine and none of the new ones lived up to the taste of the old ones. The man made a point of telling the redhead that it wasn't done on purpose, thanks to the end of their relationship, and she genuinely believed him, but even so, such a change in such a tiring week only made the teacher's discomfort that Saturday morning turn into a gratuitous and deep antipathy towards the new place.

The woman of Italian descent approached the counter, where a receptionist graced her with a friendly smile.

"Hello, how can I help you today?", was the question that greeted Melissa, with a kindness that, in the redhead's mind, was completely unnecessary.

The teacher hesitated for a moment before answering sharply, ignoring the hello offered to her.

"Schemmenti. Melissa Schemmenti, please. I have a coloring booked here. A recommendation from Andrea Rossi." While the receptionist checked her information, Melissa looked around, trying to get used to the new habitat, but she barely had time to do so because, in less than thirty seconds, the receptionist escorted Melissa to a chair in front of one of the largest mirrors in the salon.

The chair that was chosen for the redhead was a little isolated from the other people present, who were laughing and talking without worrying about the noise, but if the redhead was being honest with herself, she actually preferred it that way.

“Hello, Melissa. My name is Y/N and it’s wonderful to meet you. I hope you fell welcome and comfortable here with me. Andrea has told me wonderful things about you and I have her notes in my hand to make sure you leave here satisfied.”, a younger woman with a thick accent appeared out of nowhere, vomiting the words at Melissa with a smile and a sweet voice that were already starting to give the redhead a headache.

The speech seemed rehearsed, still genuine, but her voice seemed too practiced to instill comfort in the redhead. And if that wasn't enough, the younger woman was enthusiastically waving a note in her hand like a triumph, making Melissa even more insecure about Y/N's talent than she already was.

The teacher knows she's not an idiot but… This hairdresser wasn't even thirty years old. This Y/N was clearly in her early twenties, with rich hair and a quick smile that probably lit up the room more than those stupid ringlights that surrounded the chairs in that place.

Not to mention that she was beautiful. Very beautiful.

A part of Melissa, hyper-aware of her own age, felt the bitter taste of envy take over her tongue as she looked at the younger woman's reflection in the mirror in front of her, but another part, even more recklessly, awakened a dormant desire in her mind.

However, even with that spark hidden behind Melissa's eyes, their initial interaction couldn't have been worse.

Y/N seemed excited, first asking Melissa for permission to touch her hair – something the redhead almost said no to, just to see if that smile would die on her lips – but quickly the hairdresser started discussing ideas for Melissa's hair, something that forced the redhead's voice to sound cutting:

"I just dyed my hair red for years.", Melissa made sure her voice sounded as sharp as she intended, "Get those ideas out of your head and just do what Andrea use to do."

The lack of niceness caused Y/N to feel strange, but the hairdresser tried to remain calm despite the discomfort.

New clients were always a little insecure, so the Brazilian woman would just prove to the one in front of her that she had talent.

Y/N always had magical hands. When she was still a girl, on the hot afternoons in her hometown, she would have fun braiding the hair of her school friends. Long locks of hair shiny thanks to the summer sun and strands yellowed by the chemicals of several women in the city often passed through Y/N's hands as if she were an artist molding a sculpture.

Her friends loved the hairstyles she did. At first, they were not at all sophisticated due to her young age, but they were done with so much love and dedication that they always seemed to transform any hair into something unique. For Y/N, it was more than just fun.

It was a passion.

When she reached her teen years, that passion became something more serious. Y/N was not satisfied with just doing the hair of her friends and family. The Brazilian woman wanted to learn, she wanted to master the art of transforming people's hair into something even more special.

That's why when she graduated from high school, Y/N started studying, and within a few months, she was already working professionally at a salon in her city. It didn't take long for her to be recognized for the quality of her work. Her skill with scissors and dye made her quickly stand out among other professionals. She knew what she was doing, she knew how to transform people into more beautiful versions of themselves, she knew what her clients wanted and, most importantly, she knew how to make them feel good.

Little by little, Y/N began to stand out even more and her life began to change.

She knew that her talent could not be limited, and so, when some close friends who had already moved to the United States began to encourage her to try her luck in Philadelphia, Y/N was scared at first. But if the chance to start over in another country meant more opportunities, she couldn't let this pass, even if the exciting idea had the power to scare her. But even though she was frightened, she was soon embarking on a new chapter in her life in a plane.

It was hard to save money for the travel, it was hard to get all the necessary documents to enter the USA legally, it was hard to leave loyal clients behind, and it was even harder to leave her country and its traditions. But the youthfulness of her soul and the hope of a new life embraced her heart and the hairdresser decided to give herself this chance.

Wen she arrived in Philadelphia, Y/N felt, at the same time, small and full of possibilities. The city was big, the competition was powerful, and she was seen as just another foolish immigrant.

But she was determined.

The Brazilian woman knew that her skill could be the key to a promising future. She just didn’t expect that her future would be shaped by Andrea Rossi, an older and more experienced Italian hairdresser who worked at a well-known salon nearby.

The story happened by chance. One of Andrea’s regular clients mentioned that her son had gotten a haircut from a really new Brazilian hairdresser.

“It was something very different… Like those stupid things we see on TikTok, but it was exactly what James wanted, and we had never found anyone willing to do it. What this young woman did perfectly and without thinking twice, and my son loved it!”, the woman commented in admiration before giving the older woman an idea, “You should meet her!”

Andrea was curious and, figuring she had nothing to lose, asked for more information about the Brazilian woman. The client was enthusiastic and told the Italian one everything she knew and, even though she was skeptical, Andrea let her curiosity get the best of her and decided to see it for herself.

The next day, she went to the salon where Y/N was working and, observing closely, immediately noticed the young woman’s skill. The Brazilian woman had the touch of someone who knew what she was doing, an eye for beauty trends, and the needs of her clients, but she also had more than that.

Y/N had a natural connection with people, a charisma that, combined with her smile and strong accent, made any client feel at ease, and Andrea saw that.

So the Italian woman wasted no time. She called Y/N for a chat at the end of her shift and, soon, took her on as her last pupil before announcing her retirement.

Normally, hearing Andrea Rissi's name made Y/N happy. All the advice, recommendations, affection, and wisdom shared by the older woman were a pleasant memory for the Brazilian woman.

But there, while she tried in vain to be nice to what was Andrea's transfer, having her work compared to the older woman's began to annoy her.

First, the owner of those pretty green eyes began to verbalize her dissatisfaction with the work tools Y/N used, telling her how much she preferred Andrea's work tools, which were always on display for her clients to see. Then the redhead started rolling her eyes at Y/N's coworkers, who, since they had no clients, were chatting spiritedly while planning to get their nails done at the end of the day, muttering how much she would appreciate some peace and quiet.

But the first sign Y/N gave that she was definitely not the type of person who would just ignore or shrink from Melissa's bad mood was when the redhead made a point of directly comparing her work to Andrea's before Y/N even started dyeing her hair.

"Andrea, don't part my hair like that. You'll leave my hair full of spots!"

Trying to preserve the good mood she had woken up in that morning, the hairdresser chose to be sneaky and ironic. Y/N looked around theatrically and curiously, as if she was searching for something important, and Melissa, unable to contain her fear and confusion, made her voice present.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just looking for Andrea Rossi since you want to talk about her so badly.”

Receiving only silence as an answer, and thinking that the unhappy attitude of that client was over, the hairdresser continues her journey. Y/N measures the dye with all the care in the world, making sure to double-check on the scale in front of her that the weight is correct when compared to what Andrea gave her over the phone before applying the dye accurately, fearing giving Melissa another reason to complain. The Brazilian woman divides Melissa’s hair locks with the focus of a professional with much more experience, doing everything she can to not lose a single gray hair, and when she goes to wash it, she does so with a gentleness that surprises Melissa.

But the teacher doesn’t want to admit it, so she continues to stare sullenly at the mirror, even while Y/N gently untangles her wet hair.

When the redhead’s hair is nice and completely ready to be dried, Y/N looks at her hair curiously before turning once more to Melissa’s reflection in the mirror.

“I usually do this before dyeing, but what do you think about maybe cutting a few inches? The ends are starting to lose their shape.”

“I don’t want to cut anything.”, the words are said low enough for no one but the hairdresser to hear but Y/N, but with a hint of anger that surprised the young woman, “And stop talking, your voice is too annoying for the kind of mediocre work you deliver, kid.”

It was insensitive. Even to Melissa.

The redhead knows that Andrea would never send her to a bad hairdresser. She knows she is being harsh and critical to someone who gave her no reason to do so, but before she realizes it the words have already escaped her mouth.

But the teacher simply has no idea what was coming.

The hairdresser’s eyes widened, large pupils full of rage meeting the teacher’s gaze through the mirror, shocked by the words said by Melissa. And, before Melissa's mind can even work on instigating any remorseful reflexes, Y/N grabs a large chunk of hair from the redhead's bangs and takes a pair of scissors out of her pocket with her free hand, quickly placing them right on Melissa's forehead, exactly where her hair grows, like a more than concrete threat.

“Listen to me Philadelphia's beauty, I don't know what kind of hairdresser you expected when Andrea transferred you to me but as long as you sit in my chair you will respect my work and listen to my fucking suggestions.”, it is said as a whisper, but the hairdresser's anger and her thick accent along with the slight pull she gives the redhead's hair make the whole interaction sound indescribably scary, even to Melissa, “I've been nothing but polite and respectful to you, but I'm starting to regret accepting someone so unfortunate in my char that they think they can criticize my work without even knowing me.”

There, locking eyes with Y/N ​​in the salon mirror, Melissa understood how much she had crossed the line.

Melissa took a deep breath, filled with adrenaline at the thought of losing the top part of her hair, before nodding her head, causing Y/N to put down the scissors and let go of her bangs as she returned to work normally.

And then silence.

Dead silence.

The silence between the two women was so thick that it seemed to fill every corner of the room, making the sound of the dryer and the conversations around them sound muffled and filling the air with a corrosive feeling.

The scene from minutes ago was still boiling in Melissa's mind, repeating itself like a scratched record. Now, as if Melissa had finally come to her senses, the redhead wanted to disappear. She wanted to jump out of the chair and run away from the mirror which reflected her own guilt and shame. But she couldn't. Her anxiety combined with the idea of ​​leaving now, before the end of her service (something that could be even more disrespectful than her words), did a magnificent job holding her body in place, like an invisible chain that kept her feet on the floor and her mouth gagged.

With her fingers drumming on her apron-covered leg as the Brazilian woman prepared to style her hair, the teacher wanted to believe that it hadn't been so bad, that maybe Y/N had already forgotten what was said. But she knew that wasn't true. The weight of the moment still hung between them, thick and uncomfortable.

Y/N doesn't cut her hair or even mention the idea once again. The hairdresser just dries her red hair perfectly, but now with a serious gaze and a hurt look on her face. The Brazilian woman vehemently ignores Melissa's green eyes throughout the entire process, and the teacher stupidly decides too late that she prefers the incessant smile that remained on the hairdresser's lips minutes ago.

Melissa thought about apologizing, but the idea of ​​speaking made her breathing quick and shallow, along with the fear of seeming too desperate.

It was then that her eyes fell on the small ceramic jar in the corner of the counter next to her chair. It was decorated with hand-painted flowers and had, in crooked but legible letters, the words: "Tips for Y/N" next to a QR code. Even with the virtual possibility of compensation, the jar was open and with a significant amount of dollars, coins, and two lollipops, which Melissa just knew had been left there by a child.

And so, an idea formed, hesitant but clear in the teacher's mind.

A good tip seemed perfect, silent, indirect, but still meaningful. As the minutes passed, anxiety whispered again in Melissa's mind, wondering if Y/N would believe that she was doing this because of the guilt she felt at that very moment and not because of the regret that was now eating her mind. But the alternative of doing nothing was simply unbearable for Melissa.

The redhead knew she couldn't leave without at least trying, even if in her own way, to make amends.

When Y/N finished applying a light-smelling oil to the teacher's hair and walked away, silently letting her know that her work was done, Melissa tried to meet the hairdresser's eyes and give her a small smile, which she knew would be nervous, but which could give her an idea of ​​what was going on in Y/N's head.

But Y/N didn't look at Melissa.

When Melissa got up from the salon chair, her racing heart didn't stop her from taking two generous bills from her wallet — much more than she would usually give for just an appointment to dye her hair— and walking over to the pot. Her fingers were shaking slightly, but before anything could be done, she was interrupted:

“I don’t want your tip.” Before the two hundred dollars could enter the ceramic pot with the Brazilian’s name written on it, Y/N placed her own hand over the top to the object, successfully blocking Melissa from doing what she intended.

“Okay. Now you’re being ridiculous!”

With those words, the hairdresser's eyes finally focus on the green ones again, still filled with an anger that Melissa rarely sees in people who have a disagreement with her (too used to the regretful and submissive ones) and the redhead was shocked by this when Y/N actively chooses to ignore her accusation by saying:

"I'm willing to give you the exact coloring mixture that Andrea developed for your hair so you can find a hairdresser who is like the silent imitation of Andrea that you are looking for.", and before the redhead even has a chance to answer her with an apology that would apparently be necessary, the hairdresser quickly collects everything that was used in the teacher's service and directs Melissa a few more words before walking away without looking back, "Call the salon when you want the measurements and the receptionist will share them with you with pleasure. Have a good rest of your day."

[sundew199]

Another

a/n: Jesus it has been a hot minute since I wrote smut for Reiner, and um yea this was slightly self-indulgent won't even lie to you 🥴

tags: reiner braun x f!reader, oral f!receiving, mating press, breeding kink, mentions of getting reader pregnant, uh smut.

Asking Reiner for another baby was a dangerous task, because you knew the second the request left your lips, he'd be whisking you to the nearest surface to bury his cock inside you. Having a daughter already, who was around two years old, you felt like it was time for another, you never planned on having just one kid anyway.

You had it all planned out, your daughter staying the night with your parents, giving you and Reiner the entire night to yourselves. He was coming out of the shower right as you sat on the bed in one of your short promiscuous nightgowns, eyeing the way the towel wrapped around his hips hung low, revealing nearly all of his happy trail. Once you scooted to the edge of the bed and beckoned him over was when you slipped the request in his ear, feeling him shutter and almost buckle from just the idea alone.

Like a moth to a flame, Reiner was on you, pining your wrists to the bed and hovering over you, staring with hungry eyes that could devour you effortlessly.

"You want another?"

Seeking confirmation as if you hadn't whispered it to him so seriously just a second ago, plainly nodding your head and throwing one of your legs over his lower back and dragging the towel off his hips, revealing himself fully to you now. Reiner smiled like the devil at your simple assurance, releasing your wrists and helping you sit up, stripping you of the night gown and moaning at the fact there was nothing underneath.

Holding you at the knees, the deep chuckle automatically had you spreading your legs for him, undeniably eager to fulfill a shared wish. Reiner had always expressed wanting a big family, but knew it would always be on your time and not his. But fuck did he love to see you pregnant, swollen with his child and now that he had the opportunity to do it again, he wasn't wasting a second.

Before you could even process what was happening, his face was buried in your cunt, hands holding your legs apart as his mouth worked the sensitive flesh. His tongue traced over your clit, flicking it all for the satisfaction of hearing you whine. He could get drunk off the noises you made, the hitch in your breath and the way your moans would increase in volume and pitch when he enclosed his lips around the sensitive bud.

With one hand buried in his damp blonde hair, the other pinched at your nipple, offering yourself more stimulation as you were so desperate and horny. Reiner began to hum and moan into your pussy the more he ate you out, looking up from between your legs and letting his eyes roll back into his head at the blissed out expression on your face. You snuck a peak when you felt him come off, moaning vocally at the way his chin and goat-tee were glistening in your arousal.

Climbing more onto the bed to hover over you, Reiner swiped two fingers through your cunt, pushing just the tip of his fingers inside as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"How badly do you want another?" Knowing the answer but craving to hear it from you, slowly feeding you more and more of his two digits, smiling at the way you flinched to the cool metal of his wedding band entering you.

"Reiner-" protesting because he knew better than to make you beg, not when you were offering yourself so readily for him.

"Tell me baby."

The slight demand in his voice had you rutting into his fingers that hadn't moved since being pushed all the way inside you, resting inside your cunt like a promise.

"Badly, I want it so badly Reiner." Sweetening your voice, reaching up to stroke one side of his face, hoping the plea in your voice was enough to replace his fingers with his dick which twitched against your inner thigh.

"Yea?" Slowly pulling his fingers out, and adjusting his stance to where you felt his dick move off your thigh, knowing it were inches from your pussy. "How long?"

"Reiner, for fuck's sake-" Whining at yet another question and the way his fingers suddenly left you empty, just to be teased with his cockhead at your entrance, torturing you almost.

"C'mon," Reaching the hand that was just inside you to cup your chin, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip, a sort of begging look in his eyes now.

"For a couple of months, fuck please."

He chuckled under his breath, pushing his hips slightly forward until he barely started to breach you, stopping himself. You were at your limit, pussy throbbing for longer than you'd like at this point and he was still teasing you.

"You really want me to fuck another baby into you sweetheart?" Inching more of his dick inside you, prompting you to arch off the bed and squeeze your eyes shut. The question sounded rhetorical from his tone, giving him a simple pleading whimper as an answer, and thank god he took it and didn't prod you for more.

Your breath was coming out heavy as his thick cock stretched you open, slowly bottoming out and then letting you adjust before tucking his hand behind your head and holding you at the nape, making you look at him. Reiner's brow's upturned when he dragged himself half way out, lips parted the perfect amount to fan the fire of lust in your stomach and clench around him. He grunted, snapping himself back inside you and starting a fast rhythm. You sighed as his thighs smacked against your inner thighs, fisting the sheets above your head and maintaining the near perfect arch.

A firm hand held you at your side, fingertips digging and pressing into your flesh it were sure to bruise, but you loved the little marks he left on your skin, whether faint or apparent.

"Fuck I've been thinking about giving you another for a while now, just waiting for you to ask."

Confessing as he thrusted rapidly into you, groaning after nearly each word he spoke, making your flutter around him. Reiner moved the hand holding you at your side to grab at your hip, lifting them off the bed so he could send his cock deeper inside you. And fuck did it feel good, crying out his name and slapping the hand not fisting the sheets to his bicep.

"Harder, Reiner please."

The request sent him into abandon, pulling you back onto his dick as you were attempting to flee from it, leaning over your body until your noses touched and his warm breath fanned over your lips.

"Dammit baby you're going to be the fucking death of me-" Growling out as he came off of you, sitting back on his feet and taking both of your legs and bending them back to hook over his arms, pressing them back into your chest as he returned to hovering over you.

His dick drilled in and out of you endlessly, making a mess between the two of you, Reiner's head was dipped down and watching you cunt swallow his cock with every thrust. His eyes finally met you when you sobbed about how close you were, seeing the lust glazed over in his golden eyes, the want ever the more present.

"Cum on my dick and I'll give you another baby." Speaking into your lips, pressing his forehead to yours and feeling the way his brows pinched as he repadetly buried himself in your cunt.

Even a few second later, arms thrown around his neck for stability, were you coming has hard as you've ever come before, barely given anytime to recover as your husband slammed into you, chasing is own orgasm. He couldn't help but mutter above you, little curses and a few spare words as his hips started to break rhythm, indicating he was so close.

"C'mon Reiner, get your pretty little wife pregnant again, I know you want to." Offering encouragement, twisting your fingers in the back of his hair, pulling and making him hiss.

Your little statement did the trick as he thrusted into you one final time and kept himself flush as he came inside you. There was so much it leaked while he was still inside you pressing little kisses to your face, returning to the devoted husband you were familiar with.

Reiner didn't even pull out after he was finished and you knew it was because he was being greedy and not wanting a drop to go to waste, intent of making sure he succeeded in his goal.

"We're not sleeping like this." You finally said after he still hadn't pulled out, giving him a slightly annoyed and stern look.

"You're right we're not, because we aren't going to sleep." Laughing breathlessly as he parted your lips with a seductive kiss, and you should've know you'd open up the floodgates once you mentioned wanting another baby, accepting that until that test came back positive, Reiner would stay between your legs until then.

[adumbratrapedme]

Osamu Miya x reader | teen pregnancy. pt 1 the news.

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between osamu and reader.

wc. | genre. angst to fluff |cw/tags. angst, teen pregnancy mentions, fluff, etc.

teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

╭⋅OK! you guys havent been dating for long, perhaps just 5 months and the relationship was actually perfect except for the fact that Osamu wanted to keep it lowkey, not even his twin knew. ╭⋅Because i really love this headcanon that says that girls usually went to osamu just to get closer to atsumu or that everytime he liked someone atsumu would frlit with them and stuff like that ╭⋅ So thats why he wanted to keep it lowkey, what if his twin found out and started fliritng with you?? it kinda made u feel bad cuz it was like "he doesnt trust me enough?" but its okay, u understood at the end of the day tbh ╭⋅Anyways, Your first reaction? Pure panic. You went through the five stages of grief in your bedroom before finally accepting reality. ╭⋅ The thought of telling Osamu made your stomach churn. What if he freaked out? What if he left? But a small part of you knew he wasn’t that kind of person. ╭⋅The realization hit him in waves. ╭⋅The first wave was shock—like the world tilted off its axis. ╭⋅The second wave was fear—what would happen to you both? What would people say? How would this change everything? ╭⋅The third wave was responsibility—he wasn’t going to let you go through this alone. Not a chance.

Osamu never meant for things to get this complicated.

When you two first got together, it was supposed to be simple—lowkey, nothing flashy. Not because he was ashamed of you. Hell no. If anything, you were the best thing that had ever happened to him!!. But he knew his brother too well. Atsumu had this infuriating habit of developing crushes on girls Osamu liked, and Osamu wasn’t about to let that happen with you.

So, keeping it a secret had seemed like the safest option. Late-night calls, meeting up behind the gym, pretending to be just classmates in public. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked. At least, for a while.

Then Suna found out.

And of course, he had to be an asshole about it.

"You know, if you wanted to keep it a secret, maybe don’t stare at Y/N like they’re the last onigiri on earth every time they walk into the room," Suna had casually remarked one afternoon, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

Osamu froze mid-bite of his lunch. You nearly choked on your drink.

Suna finally glanced up, smirking.

"How long have ya known?" Osamu muttered, already bracing for the answer.

"Since the first time Y/N called you ‘Samu’ instead of 'Miya.'”

Busted!!!!!!!.

That was months ago. Back when the biggest problem was keeping things quiet.

Now? Now things were a whole lot messier...

The two lines on the pregnancy test made sure of that.

Your hands trembled as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the small plastic stick that had just turned your entire world upside down. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. It felt surreal, like you were watching a scene from someone else’s life.

How am I supposed to tell Osamu?

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, making you flinch. You snatched it up, your stomach twisting the moment you saw his name.

The hot twin (clearly he added himself like this): hey, wanna meet at the usual spot?

He had no idea.

You typed out a shaky yeah before grabbing your jacket, stuffing the test into your pocket, and heading out, perhaps this was the right moment, right?

Osamu was already waiting behind the gym, leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes lit up the moment he saw you. That lazy half-smile—the one that always made your heart do stupid things—tugged at his lips.

But the second he got a good look at you, the smile faded.

His brows knit together. “What’s wrong?”

Your throat tightened. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. The words felt too heavy, too impossible to say out loud.

So instead, you reached into your pocket, pulled out the test, and held it out. It felt blunt to do it this way, but you figured it was better to get it over with now rather than later, if he was going to break your hearth maybe it should be now.

Osamu stared at it. Then at you. Then back at it. Then at you.

“…What’s this?” His voice was steady, but there was something else there. Something uncertain.

You forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

The kind that stretches for too long, making your chest ache.

Osamu blinked once, twice, then exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “Shit.”

You nodded, because yeah.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His jaw tensed, his fingers flexed, his eyes flickered with a storm of emotions—shock, fear, something unreadable.

Then, before you could spiral any further, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms.

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding escaped in a shaky exhale as you melted into him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, securely, like he was trying to hold everything together.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured against your hair. “I promise.”

Your eyes burned. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that until now.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Panic still curled in your chest, making it hard to breathe, but then Osamu met your gaze—steady, unwavering. His hands stayed firm on your waist, grounding you, and for the first time since you saw those two pink lines, the chaos in your head quieted.

You weren’t alone in this.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a small, reassuring gesture. “I know it’s scary,” he admitted, voice low. “I’m scared too.”

Your heart clenched.

“But,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “ya trust me, right?”

You nodded before you even realized it.

A slow, lopsided grin tugged at his lips. “Then we’ll be okay.”

And somehow, despite the panic still lingering at the edges of your mind, you believed him.

Taglist:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02 @alpha-mommy69 @curlyhairkk @b1xi

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! also if u only want to be tagged on specific characters.

-if i forgor someone pls tell me, i get really lost with the taglist thingy ahhh

[intoanotherworld23]

A Royal Throne

Summary: There’s no throne more worthy to sit on than Lucius’s face

Warnings: explicit content, mature content, smut, oral sex female receiving, face sitting, face grinding, mention of virgin reader, inexperienced reader, horny Lucius

A/N: hi my loves I know it’s been a couple months since I’ve been on here I’ve just been going through some stuff but I am back. I hope you guys enjoy this one and I encourage all of you to reblog and comment I would like to hear what everyone thinks! Appreciate everyone who’s supported me and continues to support me! If you wish to be added to a tag list it’s fully open so please don’t hesitate to ask! Thanks everyone! XOXO

Hall of Hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Tag list for Paul Mescal/Lucius: OPEN

“Come here my little dove.” Lucius waving you over to him as he sat on the bed his legs spread prompting you to step between them. This position felt so intimate and warm it was very foreign to you. “Don’t be shy with me now.”

Lifting your silk dress and placing your legs on either side of his hips to sit on his lap. To your surprise though, he lays back and wraps his arms under your thighs pulling you upward. "What are you doing?"

"I am starving." He responds back, guiding your body up towards his face. Panic ensues and your inexperience starts to show when you have no idea what he’s about to do, or if you were gonna be able to do what he wanted. Pushing your body up so you were using the stone wall to hold yourself up.

“How can you be starving when you’ve eaten enough to feed an entire army?” Confused when he starts kissing along your inner thighs his facial hair tickling against your skin. Lucius could already smell your arousal, and was even more eager to dive in.

“Do you trust me?” He questions sensing your hesitation and nervousness. Judging by the look on your face you’ve never done this, and to be honest he was excited to be your first.

The first time you and Lucius laid eyes on each other the two of you have become inseparable. Even though he was a simple gladiator, and you were of royalty. That still didn’t stop the two of you from sneaking off into the dead of night. Knowing the risk if you two were caught, but something told you Lucius would always protect you.

“Of course I do Lucius.” Staring down at his face trying to sound confident, but you know he could hear your shaky voice.

“Then just follow my lead.” His head now positioned directly above your cunt. Licking his lips as he stared so intensely between your legs you felt like you could pass out. It just now hitting you what he was wanting you to do.

Nodding with him really doubting yourself, and just hoping whatever you were about to do was going to bring him immense pleasure. Holding your dress around your waist so you could watch what he was about to do. His thick hands holding onto your hips, and guiding you to sit on his face. His tongue right up against your cunt. A heat rising to your cheeks being in such a vulnerable position.

“I don’t want to suffocate you.” Anxiety bubbling over trying to lift yourself back up, and all he could do was smirk up at you.

“Then I shall die a true gladiators death.” He says before slamming you back down on his face. A gasp slipping past your lips at the sudden movement.

His tongue working furiously inside of you thrusting and swirling in all the right places. Finding yourself shamelessly riding his face without even realizing it. Gasps and whimpers leaving your lips echoing around the room hoping none of the servants heard. Lucius’s thumbs soothingly rubbing your already sweaty skin.

“Sweet as honeyed wine.” Muffling more to himself than you, but his words still held a grip on you.

“Oh gods.” Crying out as you looked down watching as he hungrily lapped at your cunt like he was a starved wild animal. One hand keeping your dress up while the other attached to his head a tight grip on his hair. All he could do was groan which vibrated against your clit.

Your orgasm was quickly approaching, and your entire body felt like it was on fire. You’ve never ever felt anything like this before. Lucius looked up at your remarkable expression, and it had him hard as stone. He loved holding your pleasure in his grasp, and made him feel like he had unlimited power.

“I’m close.” Rotating your hips as he thrusted his tongue as deep as he could the bridge of his nose brushing against your puffy clit. It was overwhelming as it felt like the room was spinning, and the walls were closing around you.

“Let go I am right here.” He encouraged as he started to suck on your clit. Holding you down refusing to let you go, and he just keeps going. It was everything that you never knew you needed. Throwing your head back as a cry of pleasure left your lips, and your thighs squeezing the sides of his head.

Listening as his tongue lapped up your juices, your legs shaking as he eased you through your orgasm. Using his chest to lift yourself off his face your legs feeling like noodles. Lucius adjusting his position so he was sitting upright his hands never leaving your hips as he made you sit back down on his lap. Watching in awe as he wiped his mouth his beard glistening under the blaze of the candles.

“My sweet little dove.” A hand reaching up to caress your cheek with a soft smile. Hands down by his hips as you mindlessly played with the fabric of his pants. “Now tell me, are you a virgin?”

[cornykrameri]

Silco x Female POV Snippet Tags: Switch Silco, Power Play, Smoking, Light Bondage, Brat Taming, some-kinky-shit

— What’s taking so long? Never tied someone up before?

His voice was melodic, laced with mockery, and I felt heat rush to my cheeks. But I recovered quickly, shooting him a sharp look as I pulled the knot tight.

— Not someone as stubborn as you, — I shot back, tugging on the loose end of the tie.

He leaned forward, his face so close to mine that I almost gave in and kissed him again. Instead, my hand reached for the cigar box on the table.

Silco watched as I took one, placed it between my lips, and lit it on the second try.

— Bold, aren’t you? — his voice played like a melody, both mocking and intrigued.

I met his gaze, inhaling the heavy smoke.

— You have no idea, — I murmured lowly.

Clenching the cigar between my teeth, I pulled the tie’s loose end upward, forcing his hands higher. His wrists tensed, but he didn’t resist. With my free hand, I grabbed the end of the tie behind his back and pulled it downward, locking his hands behind his head. His eyes were sharp, studying me with playful, defiant attention. It wasn’t a submissive gaze—it was a challenge. And it thrilled me. I wanted to see how far he would let me go.

Taking the cigar in my left hand, I pressed against his chest, pinning him against the back of the couch.

— We’ve got some problems, — I began in an even tone, feeling the nicotine-induced lightheadedness creeping in. — But I’m just a person with pain, — I continued, swinging a leg over to straddle him, keeping his bound hands above his head. — And I want to take yours away, — I whispered.

He smirked, watching as I slowly drew on the cigar and released the smoke, tilting my head back. Pressing down harder on his lap, I extended the cigar toward his lips, offering him the chance to take a drag.

Silco stared at me for a long moment before tilting his head slightly to the side, rejecting my offer.

— Do you really think you can control me so easily? — he asked, his tone brimming with defiance.

What a stubborn man.

— I think I can, — I replied, pulling the cigar back and leaning in close. — Don’t pretend you don’t want this. Don’t act like you don’t crave giving me your soul and losing control just once in your life. — My voice was steady as I stared into his eyes, feeling every beat of my pulse echoing in the air between us.

I looked straight at him, wanting him to understand that I could see deeper than he allowed. Something shifted in his expression. His lips parted slightly, and I took it as an invitation. Slowly, I brought the cigar close again, leaving only a fraction of space between its tip and his mouth.

— Then admit you want it, — I said calmly.

His gaze darkened, and with a quick motion, he snatched the cigar from my hand with his teeth, taking a long drag.

— No, — I cut him off sharply, immediately taking the cigar back.

I pressed my lips to his, drawing the smoke from his mouth and throat. It pleased me that he let me do it—it meant he was playing along, teasing me, but it only made me more determined.

Pulling back, I exhaled the smoke, my head spinning and an unfamiliar, exhilarating sensation blooming in my chest. I looked at him—his hands tied above his head, his steady, confident gaze meeting mine. That feeling was turning me inside out, twisting in the most intoxicating way. It was the thrill of power. How long would he last before he gave in? What would it take to make him surrender?

— Shall we try again? — I asked calmly, looking him over from head to toe as I brought the cigar close to his lips, so close that he could snatch it back if he wanted to.

He studied something in my eyes, his gaze tinged with doubt. For a moment, he glanced at the cigar before locking eyes with me again. His mouth parted ever so slightly, but instead of speaking, he clenched his jaw, refusing to give in so easily.

— Ask me for it, — I added, tilting my head slightly as I tugged his hands bound by the tie a little farther. — You won’t get it unless you just ask.

I saw something shift within him. Silco swallowed, his chest freezing for a brief moment as though he were wrestling with the decision. That tension was mesmerizing: he was trying to hold firm, but I caught the subtle cracks in his armor. Finally, he looked up at me and, in a quiet, raspy voice, said:

— Would you be so kind as to let me smoke?

Those words were clearly a struggle for him. My lips curved into a smile. I had succeeded: I had pushed him somewhere he hadn’t been before, and it intoxicated me more than the alcohol coursing through my veins.

— Anything for you, ��� I said, allowing him to close his lips around the cigar as I pressed closer to him.

He inhaled slowly, deliberately avoiding my gaze. It was endearing, his attempt to hold on to some scrap of control when I knew I was already winning. I felt his breath grow heavier, his body warm beneath mine. Moving the cigar away so he could exhale, I added softly:

— That must’ve been hard for you—saying it out loud, wasn’t it? — My words cut through the tension like a blade. — But see, the result was worth it, and nothing terrible happened.

He stayed silent, but I felt his bound hands twitch against the tie as if testing the knot. I didn’t waver; I observed him, soaking in the emotions he tried to hide. This was a moment of truth: he wasn’t surrendering all at once but step by step, allowing me to push further and torment us both. His vulnerability felt unnatural, but he permitted himself to show it in my presence, and that made my heart ache with contradictions.

— I know you’re scared. You are pins, — I whispered, taking a slow drag from the cigar before exhaling heavily. — Let me be your needles.

I leaned closer, my lips nearly brushing his, feeling his breath mix with mine, his body tensing beneath me. His intoxicating scent, that teasing look in his eye—I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out, but I wasn’t ready to give everything away just yet. My tongue traced the scar at the corner of his lips, sliding to the middle of his cheek, and I felt him freeze under my touch.

[momo-rambles]

Vine Reference

Imagine reader telling Task Force 141 a Vine reference and their reactions. I absolutely loved this idea!

Warnings: Language, minimal use of Y/N, not proofread

A/N: Hey, guys! Here’s my first round of imagines for our favorite task force! I can’t imagine that I came up with this idea, so please feel free to tag yourself if you came up with the idea! Also, I kinda got carried away with Gaz’s! Please be gentle!😭 Love you guys!

_________________________________________________

Price:

The sun shone brightly through the truck windows, making me involuntarily reach out and flip down the sun visor. Price sat next to me in the drivers’ seat, his focus maintained on the highway ahead. Soft music humming in from the low volume of the radio.

The truck’s atmosphere had been filled with a quietness that wasn’t uncomfortable. I’d become accustomed to the quiet that usually tended to follow Price around, intermingled with the small talk here and there. Captain Price and I had been traveling for a while now, our destination still unknown to me. He woke me early this morning and told me to pack up and load up, and I did so. No questions asked. I decided to test the silence that has surrounded us for the past two hours.

“How much longer until we’re there?”, I asked quietly. Price swiftly averted his gaze from the road to me in the passenger seat, and then back again. He adjusted slightly in his seat, the stillness from driving taking its toll on his joints. He swapped out his hands on the steering wheel and cleared his throat.

“Not quite two hours.”, his gravelly voice replied. I nodded in understanding, turning my gaze back out the window. I was still taking in the scenery flying past me when I heard Price sigh heavily. I turned back to see him rubbing his eyes quickly, then averting his eyes back to the road.

“What’s wrong?”, I questioned.

Price pointed out the windshield to a large orange sign sitting on the shoulder of the highway. Large black letters read “ROAD WORK AHEAD.”

“We’ll probably be stopped for road work ahead.” He sighs.

The gears in my head immediately begin turning. A grin appearing on my face.

“Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does…” I spoke without missing a beat, making myself giggle. Price looked over to me in the passenger seat, confusion ringing on his features.

“I beg your pardon?”, He asks.

“You’ve never heard that?”, I laughed harder at his perplexed expression. “The Vine?”

Price shook his head, a small, amused smile becoming more evident on his features as he took in my laughing form. “No, can’t say I have. I’m not totally sure what ‘a vine’ is.”

“That’s a real shame, Cap. You’re truly missing out.”, I stated, finally calming my giggles. Price just smiled and shook his head again.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

_________________________________________________

Soap:

“So, this whole time, Allison has been seeing both Todd and James?”, Johnny questioned, stopping the shopping cart beside me as I examined the bread on the shelves next to me.

We were in the middle of our mid week grocery shopping trip. Conversation seemingly flowed easy during this time. Neither of us could truly understand it, but it was something we had grown accustomed to.

“Yep!”, I confirmed, recounting the latest chapter of the book I was reading. I continued my overlook of the shelves in front of me, never meeting Johnny’s eyes as I spoke. “And this went on for, like…a year or so before they both found out about each other.”

Johnny always entertained the retellings of my current reads. He said I had a knack for storytelling, and thus, continuously found himself enthralled in my books. Even if he himself wasn’t actually reading it. It never ceased to reel him in.

“That’s crazy stuff, there.”, he paused for a moment.

“Ya know, I’ll never understand how people can cheat and keep it a secret for so long.”, he states as he shifts from one foot to the other. I continued to peruse the loaves of bread lining the shelves before me, even going as far to feel a few of them. I plucked a loaf of bread from its spot on the shelf and placed it in the cart. I grabbed a hold of Johnny’s forearm on the cart, signaling him to start walking. We rounded aisle after aisle, quickly grabbing the respective items on our list.

“Me neither. I guess some people are better at keeping secrets than others.”, I mumbled. “Not to mention, Todd and James are roommates…well…were roommates.”

“And they were roommates?”, Johnny whipped his head in my direction, eyes wide as he took in this new information. I immediately looked over to him with a grin, the realization dawning on his features at what he had done.

I could feel the mirth sinking into my eyes.

“Oh my god, they were roommates…”, I mumbled through quick giggles. Johnny shook his head, trying to fight off laughs of his own.

“Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”, he said through small chuckles.

“Afraid so…”, I said trying to maintain my composure.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He states as he places a hand on my lower back to usher me towards the check out.

_________________________________________________

Gaz:

Game nights on base usually went one of two ways: easy and laid back or absolute chaos.

Tonight seemed to be leaning towards the latter.

Soap suggested a friendly game of Uno, which turned out to be anything but. Price was heavily puffing on his cigar, still trying to understand what exactly was happening at the table around him. Soap and Gaz seemed to be lucky tonight, laying down +2 and +4 cards left and right. Ghost, bless his soul, was beginning to look like he was holding a full deck of his own, and has been glaring daggers at his sergeants. I was doing okay, not as many advantage cards as Gaz and Soap, but still not holding as many cards as Ghost.

But, I had quite the competitive streak.

I laid down my wild card, picking blue as my color of choice. A grumble could be heard from Soap, and I felt my lieutenant’s gaze on the side of my head. Soap drew a card from the deck, laid down his blue 2 and gestured to Gaz that it was his turn. Gaz immediately slapped down a wild card of his own, and blurted out red as the next color. I couldn’t help the scowl on my face, as red was the least color of cards I had in my hand. But I wasn’t out yet.

Price laid down his card. Ghost drew three more cards before finally getting one to fit the round, and it was my turn again. I laid down yet another wild card and immediately changed the color back to blue. Soap took his turn. Gaz’s gaze shifted ever so quickly in my direction and slapped down ANOTHER wild card.

“Red”, he smirked.

“Seriously, Gaz? Stop picking red!”, Soap exclaimed with a laugh.

Price exhaled some smoke and laid down his card, which happened to be a +2. Ghost rolled his eyes, drew his cards and laid down his respective card. Back to me. I slapped down a +4 and muttered a quick “blue.”

Soap drew his four and turned it over to Gaz.

Gaz had a devious look in his eyes, pretending to thumb through his hand. I pointed my finger in his direction.

“Don’t you do it, Garrick…”, I warned.

Gaz clamped down his thumb and forefinger around the edge of a card in his hand, eyes challenging me.

“You better not!”, I exclaimed

In one swift motion, Gaz slapped another wild card down.

“Sorry, Y/N, but I’m afraid the color is now red…”, he smirks.

I immediately stood from my seat, threw my cards on the table and began wilding waving my hands.

“What the fuck is up, Kyle?! No, what did you say, dude?! What the fuck, dude?! Step the fuck up, Kyle!”, I chanted from memory.

All eyes were on me in that moment. Soap began laughing at my outburst, like he had heard the sentiment before. Ghost cut his eyes over to my standing form from behind the skull on his face. Price and Gaz stared at me with surprise and confusion.

“I’m sorry, what?”, Price asks through muffled chuckle.

“Yeah, what was that?”, Gaz questions, confusion contorting to amusement.

“You guys know? That Vine video from years ago?”, I state.

Price, Gaz and Ghost all exchange glances, then look back to me.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about.”, Ghost speaks up, voice muffled through his balaclava.

“Soap, you know what I’m talking about, right?”, I turn to the mohawk in the chair beside me.

“‘Course I do. That video’s all over the internet.”, the Scotsman replied, smile still evident on his face.

“Leave it to the muppet…I think I’ve had enough Uno for one night. I’m turning in.”, Price states, putting his cigar out in the ashtray in front of him. Ghost agrees, placing his cards in the table. Both men stand up and retreat to their respective places. Soap stands and stretches his arms above his head.

“Yeah, I think I’ll head out, too. Later.”, he says and exits swiftly, leaving Gaz and I in the rec room. Gaz’s eyes still on me from my outburst, I quickly began cleaning up the cards on the table. I could feel the heat creep up my neck from embarrassment.

“For what it’s worth,” Gaz started, pulling my attention back to him. He handed me the rest of the deck, “I was fully prepared to step the fuck up.”

_________________________________________________

Ghost:

“Alright, any questions on anything I just went over?”, Ghost’s low voice rang through the room. Gaz, Soap and myself were seated around the table in front of him. We had spent the past half hour briefing the next mission. Price conveniently left Ghost in charge of this one, knowing the lieutenant had a penchant for minute details. All of us at the table exchanged glances and shook our heads.

“Good. Because now we get to go over logistics…”, Ghost picked up a tablet from the table, and began flitting over it. We all groaned in disdain. Ghost ignored our protests and began his lecture. I tried my hardest to pay attention, but the drone of Ghost’s voice quickly became background noise. I found myself glancing over at Soap, who looked as equally as enthused as I felt. Gaz, ever the teacher’s pet, was locked in on Ghost’s every word. Soap motioned to Gaz and then clasped his hands at his chest, while mouthing an “awwww” at me, jesting at Gaz’s attentiveness. I couldn’t help the snort that came out of my nose.

“Something the matter, sergeant?”, Ghost stops his lecture to directly address me.

“No, sir. Just having trouble sitting still, is all…”, I explained while adjusting in my seat to get my point across.

“Well, then…make yourself useful and walk this to the garbage can. That should satiate your movement for a bit.” Ghost reached behind him, grabbed his empty soda can and slid it on the table in my direction. It was a reasonable response, given the distance from the table to the garbage can by the door. I picked up the can, and was immediately hit with an impulse.

I shook the can to confirm that it was empty.

“This bitch empty. YEET!”, I say as I chuck the can towards the trash can with all my might. The can just barely missed its intended destination. I sighed, got up from my seat and trudged over to place the can in the garbage. I returned to my seat to see Soap and Gaz trying their hardest not to laugh out loud. It was only then that I felt Ghost’s eyes on me.

“What the fuck was that?”, he muttered out, voice ever low and monotonous. His eyes were glued to my face from behind the skull on his balaclava.

“Not my best moment…” I mumbled back. “It was an old video from long ago. I don’t even know why I did that. I’m sorry, Lt.”

“Right…”, he says as he looks over at the other two sergeants trying to hold themselves together. “You know what, we’ll discuss this the day of. You’re all dismissed.”

Soap, Gaz and myself head for the door. I internally kicked myself for letting my intrusive thoughts win…in the middle of a meeting.

“Uh…Y/N?”, Ghost’s voice found my ears. I hesitantly turned back to face my lieutenant.

“Yes, sir?”, I questioned.

“What the bloody hell does ‘yeet’ mean?”

[aziraphales-library]

I'm dying to read Aziraphale annoying Crowley by being the cutest and one flustered demon being unable to help himself being so disgustingly in love with the angel 🥹🥹🥹 can you rec me some? pretty please 🍪💕

I just found this blog now by posting over at reddit: "Are there any fics where Crowley's deeply annoyed by Aziraphale's antics because he's so gd cute he wants to disintegrate? I'd read the hell out of it. Very canon. 😻" Lol. I'm willing to write something like this.... I actually might but wanna read it too 🥹🥹🥹

I know there's lots of these out there. This fandom is the most talented and plentiful I've ever seen :333

Thanks in advance xx

We have a #flustered crowley tag with loads of fics, so check that out. Here are more to add to the collection...

No sunglasses in the bookshop by ineffablegold (G)

The angel’s hands very briefly (but very surely) brushed on Crowley’s chest while he moved and spoke and wriggled oh so endearingly, right over his black shirt and the fallen angel could swear he saw stars again, like before the Beginning and like a flash there they were: nebulas all around him danced and exploded with colours. Crowley inhaled sharply and simply agreed with Aziraphale, no matter on what, he didn’t remember anyway. They’d be fine.

A Moonlit Masquerade by charlieiswritingthings (G)

“Say… How about we give dancing a try? After all, that’s one of the most important things about a masquerade, is it not?” Aziraphale tilts his head a bit, towards the direction of the dancers. His smile falters slightly when he hears what Crowley says next. “I don’t do dancing, Angel. You know that.” Crowley speaks with slight… almost annoyance, very obviously against the idea. Though, Aziraphale hasn’t given up quite yet. “Now, now. That simply won’t do. Let’s go have some fun together, shall we?” Aziraphale stands up, taking Crowley’s hand in his own as he begins walking in the direction of the dancefloor. A defeated sigh is heard coming from Crowley, and he’s forced to abandon his nearly finished glass of wine on the table.

Voicemails (from a Petty Demon) by sugardustedtulips (T)

“That’s it,” Crowley growled, taking large, bold strides toward the yellow Bentley in front of him, leaving the poor cherub blankly standing behind, ostensibly stunned. “What’s what?” Aziraphale asked, hoping he didn’t mean that he’d drive off without him. Surely Crowley wouldn’t be that petty. “I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day,” Crowley whispered matter-of-factly, hissing each sibilant as he punctuated his sentence by theatrically swinging open the car door.

Aziraphale makes the Bentley yellow. Furious, Crowley resorts to giving him the silent treatment. Of course, he misses the angel too much, and can’t help bombarding him with voicemails while locked in their bedroom.

A Midsummer Afternoon's Curse by cyankelpie (G)

(Aziraphale is the victim of a love spell, and needs Crowley’s help to break it. Which is a problem, because it’s very difficult for Crowley to focus while Aziraphale lavishes him with affection.) The rest of the sentence got knocked out of him by a large, off-white blur that flew out of the door and tackled him. “Crowley,” said a familiar voice, though the breathy fondness and affection in said voice was anything but familiar. “I knew you’d come.” Oh. It was Crowley. Crowley was the target of Aziraphale’s magical infatuation. Aziraphale wanted Crowley’s help ridding him of this newfound affection for Crowley. And Crowley, who somehow needed to be the level-headed one in this situation, was utterly fucked.

You Don't Need A Licence For That by WaitingToBeBroken (M)

Crowley works for the city council and is responsible for issuing licences and permits. Aziraphale seems to be hoarding them. Crowley should really reject some of those applications. And he will, once he is done pining over Aziraphale. Really, he will!

- Mod D

[into-fiction]

Ok here's another idea. Pirate AU where Elphaba is the captain of a pirate ship and Glinda is a wealthy noble on board a ship Elphaba attacks. She holds Glinda for ransom and they fall in love or Glinda begs to join the crew because she was on her way to be forcibly married to someone she didn't know.

It's kind of shades of Pirates of the Caribbean in my head but less supernatural. Maybe Elphaba has magic and that's how she got her own ship and crew and it's full on misfits like her who were shunned because they're different.

idk if u wanted a drabble for this but i did one anyway lol

///

Elphaba was not in a good mood.

First, because their sail had been significantly more damaged in the attack than she'd expected. Second, because the weather on the horizon looked sour and formidable.

And third, the reason currently making her fists clench and her blood boil, is that their hostage is not being cooperative.

"A bunch of incompetent fools," Elphaba mutters, though the few crew members hustling to keep up with her know she doesn't truly mean it. Elphaba loves her rag-tag crew, and they'd found a family here on the seas that the land had never given them.

But seriously: they couldn't even handle a single prissy noble girl?!

Elphaba slams into the cabin with enough force for her grimy footprint to leave a permanent mark on the door. The single occupant doesn't even flinch, just cocks an eyebrow like the behavior is beneath her.

Glinda Upland is one of the richest nobles this side of Oz, and it was pure luck that Elphaba recognized her family's flag flying from that ship. The small, sleek ship had put up more of a fight than expected, but eventually, she'd been forced to retreat, her most precious cargo locked in cuffs and dragged aboard The Broomstick.

Elphaba had been ecstatic. There was nothing she and her crew hated more than those obnoxious, stuck-up nobles with their fancy parties and their wasted money and their utter lack of empathy or care.

The only thing they did care about, was themselves. The Upland family were well-known for doting on their only daughter and would surely pay out the wazoo to get her back. She was the perfect ransom.

Except that, apparently, she refused to cooperate.

As though she thought she had a choice.

Elphaba tries to impart this on the girl, her blonde hair tangled and her pink dress rumpled and stained. But there is not even a hint of fear in the stupid girl's eyes, not even when the swords come out, and not even when Elphaba brings in her largest crew member.

"You aren't going to hurt me," Glinda says confidently. She crosses her arms and tilts her chin, a tiny smirk pulling on the edge of her lips.

"And what makes you so sure?" Elphaba growls, leaning in to loom over the smaller girl.

Glinda's brown eyes sparkle- not with fear, but with delight. She's enjoying this, the little brat.

"You need me unharmed for this ransom to work. That's why you want me to write the letter myself. Momsie and Popsicle aren't going to pay for a corpse."

"Is that so? Are you sure your parents wouldn't be just as happy to pay up....after we chop one of your fingers off?"

Not even a flicker.

Glinda grins, leaning forward on her toes to get right in Elphaba's face. "What if I gave you an even better offer?" she whispers, glossy pink lips just inches from Elphaba's own.

"Oh?"

"Mmhm." Glinda rocks back, smiling winningly. "You want money, right? Well, I can get you that. I can get you anything you want. I know people."

"And what, pray tell, do you want in return?"

To leave, Elphaba expects the girl to say. To go home.

But Glinda hasn't cooperated with anything Elphaba has assumed so far. Of course, she wouldn't cooperate here either.

"If I help you," Glinda says, brown eyes sharpening into something intelligent and cunning. "Then you have to let me stay. Unharmed."

"What?"

Glinda's hair curls wildly around her face, her dress sways gently by her knees, and her hands, which Elphaba stupidly stupidly hadn't been watching, are slipping out of a pair of cuffs that clatter uselessly to the floor.

"I want to join your crew."

Glinda leans in once more, close enough that Elphaba has to force herself not to lean away.

"I want to be yours."

[thisisjustfanfic]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{My contribution to the fandom. The obligatory "everyone lives together in one big house and they kiss kiss kiss, and they love love love each other.}

Read on ao3.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Maid AU, Eventual Smut. SFW (For now)

Chapter 3: Negotiating

You find a supply closet on the main floor near the stairwell and are relieved to see a good stock of cleaning supplies and tools. Retrieving a broom, you decide to make yourself useful until Zayne gets back. 

With one earbud in, you listen to some music while you sweep the living area, reaching into the deep corners and underneath the furniture. It’s peaceful, and the nagging fatigue that kept trying to lure into napping was momentarily forgotten. 

The sun was beginning to set when the elevator dinged, just loud enough to draw your attention from where you were reaching as far as you can underneath the huge coffee table. The soft rug presses into the side of your face as you reach for what looks like a crumpled can. 

“Y/N?” Your name makes you pause in your pursuit of that can and sit up onto your knees. 

Zayne is wearing his beige coat and you can see the edge of his lab coat and his medical badge peeking out from underneath it. 

He has white bags in one hand and the scent of savory takeout quickly fills the room.

“Hey!” You greet cheerily, relieved to see a familiar face, “I was just tidying up. There’s a can stuck underneath that I can’t reach.”

You return to your quest and hear Zayne’s heavy sigh.

“You said you would take a day.” He mumbles as he walks over to the kitchen and places the food onto the counter. 

“And I got bored,” You reply, speaking louder so that he can hear with your voice muffled. 

“Come on,” You hear him call, his smooth voice cool but not demanding. 

Your fingertips graze the can once, but only manages to push it further away. Zayne says something else, but you don’t hear him. 

A touch at your lower back makes you shiver. Cold fingertips grazing the hem of your shirt. Innocently trying to draw your attention but unknowingly edging into the slightly exposed skin of your lower back. 

You inhale sharply and sit up, finding Zayne standing over you with a stern look in his eyes.

“I brought food.” He tells you like he didn’t just strum a chord in your spine. “Have you eaten since lunch?”

You recall the sorry state of his fridge and shake your head. Standing, you fix your shirt and place your hands on your hips, “You’re not exactly stocked up. Did the other housekeepers do the shopping?”

Zayne’s jaw ticks and he nods, “Yes. I was thinking about the arrangement while I was working and I think we should set some rules.”

You laugh as you take a seat at one of the barstools, “Oh trust me, I got the rundown from one of your roommates on some of the rules.” 

Zayne blinks in surprise, “Who?”

“Rafayel.” You reply, “I have to be honest Zayne, I have no idea how he expects me to clean the studio if I can’t touch anything.”

“He’s…particular about his work.” Zayne says as he begins to unpack the takeup. More than a dozen little boxes laid out and fives sets of disposable silverware set next to it.  “I’ll talk to him.”

Zayne examines each box and then finds one he seems to be looking for, sitting it front of you and offering a set of utensils. You take the white box and open it, surprised to see one of your favorite takeout dishes. Steaming hot and delicious. 

“Thank you.” You say with a bright smile, “Should we wait for the others or do you eat alone?”

“Today we’ll eat alone.” Zayne says as he finds his own box. “You’ll see them more often in the evening. Dinner is sometimes a communal affair.”

You can’t help but feel affectionate at the idea, but then bitter resentment tries to swallow you whole. You miss family dinners. Sitting together over something homemade and chatting until the food gets cold. 

Why did Zayne get that? Why did everyone else get that except for you?

You squash that nasty train of thought, and force a smile, “That sounds nice.”

Zayne sheds his coat and scarf and sits down next to you. From within he coat he retrieved a few papers and sets them on the counter before tossing the coat onto the chair next to him. 

“This is the contract we signed with the last housekeeper,” He explained, sliding one of the papers to you. “It lays out working days, which rooms to clean. Grocery budget and other things. But–” He pauses and slides the other paper to you, “Since you’re not represented by an agency, I wanted to make sure you were given proper compensation.”

You don’t answer with a mouth full of food and instead examine the difference between the contracts. The old one seems pretty standard. Three days a week and what’s to be cleaned each day. Which day to order groceries and the budget allotted for it. It listed who and when inspection of work would be done, and how much would be paid a week for the work. 

The new one was longer. It stated the same expectations but listed only two days working. The areas to be cleaned was shorter and the grocery budget higher. The inspections would be done only once a month and the weekly pay twice as much as the last.

“Zayne,” You tone is chastising, “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it not enough?” He says quickly, pulling the revised contract from your hands and examining it for typos. “We can negotiate, of course.”

“You barely have me doing anything with that contract. And where’s the part where I pay you back?” You argue, stabbing your fork into your partially eaten takeout, “And the pay should be cut because you’re also housing me. That’s more on your utility bill, my pay should be cut to cover it.”

Zayne’s brow crease and his lips purse– eyes glaring at the contract.

“Plus I’ll never be able to keep this place clean if I only work two days a week.” You sit up, taking on as authoritative a tone as you can, “I should be working six days if I’m living here. Sundays off. I can keep all the common spaces clean and do the shopping on Saturdays. You should inspect everything at least twice a week to make sure I’m keeping standards, and the pay should reflect the median wage for this position minus lodgings.”

Zayne’s shoulders deflate, “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not.” You argue petulantly, “I’m being practical. Don’t go easy on me, Zayne. I did this to myself.”

HE closes his eyes, takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Fine. Alright.” From his shirt pocket he pulls out a pen and hands it to you. “Write down what you think is reasonable, and we’ll go from there.”

You smile and take the pen, “Thank you Zayne.”

“You punishing yourself unnecessarily, but if you insist on it…” Zayne turned back to his food and began to pick at it. Suddenly remembering something he turns back to you, “There should be stipulations for if you wish to cease the contract or if circumstances change.”

You nod in agreement, “Sure. We can put like.” Your voice drifts off as you turn the page over and find the open space at the bottom, “If I end the contract, I will owe…”

“No, not that.” Zayne sighs, “Put that you are allowed to terminate the contract for any reason, be it professional or personal with no repercussions– financial or otherwise.”

“That lenient.” You mumble as you quickly pen it in. “Would you put that in for some other housekeeper?”

“You aren’t some other housekeeper.” 

The warmth in his voice rivals the richness of the hot chocolate you’d drank yesterday. Thick and decadent, but quiet like he was reluctant to reveal such a precious secret. 

You glance at him and continue to alter the contract until you're satisfied. Zayne argues with the number you write down for your wage, and eventually you find something neither of you are happy with but can live with. A tenuous compromise. 

You sign the bottom and Zayne does the same. 

The food tastes a little bit better now that that’s settled. 

The elevator dings and footsteps tap in approach. You and Zayne turn and you blink in surprise. You recognize his face, and you nearly squeak as he freezes– halfway between the foyer and the kitchen.

“Xavier,” Zayne greets the soft blond man with a gentle nod, “This is Y/N, she’s going to be staying here for the foreseeable future.”

Xavier clears his throat and approaches. His white hunter’s uniform dirt along the edges and some soot covers his right shoulder. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” You greet with a smile, jumping down from the barstool and offering your hand, “Though, have we met before? Your face is familiar.”

You see the muscles in Xavier’s neck work as he swallows and his gloved hand takes yours in a chaste hold, squeezing once without shaking before letting you go. His sapphire eyes don’t linger on your face, and you feel suddenly self-conscious.

“Ah, perhaps we’ve crossed paths at the Hunter’s association.” Xavier’s voice is like soft goosefeather down. The most plush and cushioned tone that settles like a luxurious fur coat on your shoulders. You fight the shiver that rises up your spine at the sound of it, and your mind supplies for sensations of deja vu. 

“Right. Probably.” You reply, returning to your barstool and your food. 

Xavier rounds the side of the counter and goes to the fridge, pulling out the orange juice and pouring himself a glass.

Zayne leans over the counter to find three different boxes and sets them aside, “I got your usual order.”

Xavier nods and a small smile appears on his face, “Thanks. I’m going to shower before eating.”

Zayne just nods, but as Xavier passes by there this look. A sort of exchange of information in a language you don’t understand. Some subliminal nod between gentlemen or perhaps some new greeting? 

You finish your meal and continue chatting amicably with Zayne until Xavier returns. He looks like he was carved from powdered sugar and marble, the softness of his light colored all the more striking without soot to darken them. 

“Y/N is going to be the housekeeper.” Zayne informs the blond as he sits on the other side of you. 

Xavier looks at Zayne like he’s insane, brow furrowed and upper lift slightly lifted. “Seriously?”

Your heart sinks like a stone in your chest. 

“Rafayel has already met her, and made his…rules clear.” Zayne says, “Did you have anything to add?”

The bitterness in Xavier’s expression faded after a moment and he turned his attention to his food, “Not really.”

You lick your lips and try to find something amicable to say, “I’ll try my best to stay out of your way. Rafayel let me know to be careful with his studio, did you have anything I should be careful with?”

Xavier slurped at some noodles and kept his eyes down, “I have books in my room. Don’t move them.”

You nod a few times, appeased that he, at the very least is speaking to you, “Alright. I can do that.”

Zayne hummed from your left and nudged you softly with his knee.

“Oh,” You remark as your brain returns to you, “I was going to ask if you wanted me to cook too?”

“You want to cook?” Xavier’s voice drawls from your right.

“If you’d like me to,” You reply, “I’m no five-star chef but I enjoy cooking. And I have a sneaky suspicion you guys eat too much takeout.”

“That’s not ne-” Zayne’s sentence stops at the look you shoot at him. A stern glare that dares him to try and coddle you again. He exhales in defeat, “A few times a week couldn’t hurt.”

You finish your meal and go to clean up your food while the other two continue to eat. Deciding to tackle the dishes while they chat, you go to the sink and search for a sponge. You find a dish brush and soap underneath the sink and get to work. It’s not hard with the dishwasher unused and empty to your right so you fill it. 

Zayne finishes his food and sets it aside and returns to the contract, reading it over when the elevator dings again. You hardly hear it with the sound of the running water in front of you, but you do notice the change in the room.

You look up in time to see a statue of a man enter the room– his white silver hair fluffy but sharp. Dark black and burgundy makes up the entirety of his look, with a well cut suit jacket hanging from his shoulders. 

“You’re back early.” Xavier notes with a harsh bite to his tone. 

Rafayel was intimidating like a shark in the water. Something that can swim faster and stronger than you can. Xavier was intimidating like space. Void of air and warmth. 

This man was intimidating like a beast of lore was. Something beyond the comprehension of man, and only formed from imaginations and nightmares. 

“Disappointed?” The man mused, thick like fine wine and tinged with the rumbling of a growl. His expensive leather oxfords tapped against the wood floor as he strutted over to the kitchen counter, perusing the takeout for his. As he passes by Zayne, he reaches out, placing his wide hand at the back of Zayne’s neck and squeezing in greeting. 

Stunned by that, you turned off the water and began to dry your hands, unknowingly drawing his attention. Like a predator hearing a twig snap in the forest, his eyes snap to you and a small smirk quirks his lips.

“What’s this?” He asks, clearly not speaking to you. 

“This is Y/N.” Zayne explains once again, “She’s going to be the new housekeeper.”

“ Oh,” The man croons, walking over around the island with the sink to tower over you, “A pleasure to meet you. The name’s Sylus.”

“N-nice to meet you,” You silently curse your stuttering voice, “Sylus.”

He hums when you say his name, backing off out of your space and grabbing his takeout. As quickly as he’d come, he’s walking away, “I’ll be downstairs.”

As his presence grows further away, you feel the ability to breathe return to you. Your face is red and your heart is racing, and what for? Why did he, of all of them, make you feel like you were suddenly game for a hunt?

“That’s the last of them, yeah?” You ask Zayne after a moment.

Zayne chuckles and nods, “Yeah, that’s it.”

Later, Zayne explains that Rafayel often gets caught up in a creative zone and doesn’t come down to eat until much later. Xavier gives Zayne a quiet thanks for the food before leaving, and Zayne makes sure you’re settled before he excuses himself for bed. 

You linger in the kitchen for a moment, cleaning up the remnants of the take out. Zayne’s portion is already gone, the meticulous doctor already cleaning up after himself. Xavier only left behind a few napkins in his wake, which was better than the full mess you expected him to leave you with. 

First impression? Rafayel would likely prod you and push you until you broke. Xavier likely didn’t like you and would avoid you as much as he could. Zayne was…Zayne. He’d be busy at the hospital most of the time, but would likely still find time for you. Sylus was scary and lived on the bottom floor like a goblin, which seemed fitting. Hopefully your run ins with him were minimal. 

The boxes of Rafayel’s order remained on the counter and before you scaled the stairs to head to bed you picked them up. Maybe a peace offering?

You head back to his studio and knock before entering. A muffled response calls back and you enter, finding him laying on the long couch with a sketchbook over his face. 

Lingering by the door, you hold the two boxes of food close to you, hoping to retain their heat. “I brought your food up. I thought you might like to eat here?”

Rafayel lifts the sketchbook and peeks at you, seeming to forget you existed. He sighs and waves his hand for you to approach. You cross the room and find a small portion of the side table to place the food on.

“It’s late and I’m heading to bed.” You tell him, “It was nice to meet you.”

You turn and he doesn’t stop you, letting you leave the room as quickly as you’d come.  You were eager to get started, though this certainly wasn’t the job you’d pick for yourself, you weren’t about to slack off. 

You’d been in such a daze since– For a while. Nothing really felt real anymore. Nothing felt important. Maybe this peculiar circumstance was just bizarre enough to knock some sense back into you. As you readied for bed, setting up the few photo frames on the bedside tables, you hoped so. 

After you left, Rafayel sighed. Eyes stuck on the little takeout boxes you’d brought him. Glaring at them like they were messenger birds bringing news of his incoming doom. 

It couldn’t be. Could it? No. No that was…. Rafayel huffed and tossed his sketchbook aside. His stomach was turning in knots and his skin felt hot. 

A part of him wanted to go to the others, confirming the suspicions curling around his spine like a choking boa. If he noticed it, then the others did too. Maybe not Zayne…poor guy, but certainly Sylus. And most definitely Xavier. 

But it felt too good to be true, and so Rafayel didn’t trust it. A sweet treat hanging from a thread, bait at the end of a silver hook meant to trick him and lay him out for slaughter. 

It didn’t matter who you looked like. What you felt like. What you smelled like… He’d deny the messages his senses were telling him to preserve his sanity. To preserve the tenuous peace and happiness he’d found here. He wouldn’t voice aloud his suspicions in case he was wrong and get everyone’s hopes up for nothing.

[creeksandsocks]

The Diner

Pairing Eddie Munson x f!reader

Tags: Fluffy, Mature (just to be safe), bad writing, writer has no knowledge of Dnd, Mentions of food/eating

Authors note: okay, this is my first EVER fic, so please bear with me 😪 as the writing and pacing will probably be janky. This is really a conglomeration of a bunch of little ideas that come into my head about the man of the hour, please feel free to leave me constrictive criticism or any asks! Thank you so much for reading my fic *mwah

[3.8k words]

It's freezing, early winter’s 9 PM wind gives you goosebumps down your legs. You wrangle the flowing pleats of your skirt in your left hand, hoping to both provide yourself any semblance of insulation and protect yourself from flashing your panties to the empty Hawkins High Parking lot. Your right hand clutches the pay phone to you, it stays nestled in the crook of your shoulder as you desperately try to call Steve. 

Your eyes reread the graffiti that was hastily scratched into the weathered plastic of the booth. Before you can reread the entirety of the angsty scribbles on the wall, you're put through to voicemail. For the umpteeth time,  you hear his outgoing message repeat “You’ve reached Steve, I can’t answer your-”. You slam your finger onto the “2” symbol of the key pad, effectively skipping through the rest of his message so you can beg into the receiver.

“Hey, man!” you grit “I get your probably tired, but, like, im freezing out here. Please come pick me up- us up!”

You're stranded in the parking lot of your own high school. Dustin had somehow convinced you that it was in fact a good use of your Friday night to drive him to his hellfire club meeting. Because you loved him (and because your BFF Robin was forced into an awkward and inescapable dinner with her estranged grandparents) and your Friday night was rendered free you gave the kid a ride. After dropping him off and sending a lighthearted wave his way (which he decided he isn’t yet too cool to reciprocate). You tried pulling out of your spot. The thing is, you’re close enough to downtown and already out of the comfort of your bed that you decided to make your time at least a little bit useful, maybe exchange the sweater that's been sitting in your trunk for two months or windowshop downtown? But, your plans were ruined the second you place your foot on the gas.

While contorted in the front seat, trying to stretch and see behind yourself as you peel out of your spot, the car's steering wheel pulled against you and and the entire vehicle veered left. Slamming your foot on the break your heart sunk. Fuck, you think im screwed. You hop out of the drivers chair and the cold bites at you as you timidly make your way around your car, investigating what the problem could be. You make a semicircle around the hood of your car before you are met with the culprit. A cartoonishly large nail was stabbed into the side of your tire, leaving the entire thing deflated. 

Though it felt like your joints had been frozen and locked into place by the nipping cold, you remarkably made it back into the driver's seat of your car, relishing the heated air that swirled around you. Running through ideas you decided your best bet was Steve. You didn’t have a spare tire, your parents would probably make a whole fuss out of your flat tire, robin was busy, too. Though he had made a big point on how “fucking awesomeeee” his before-dinner nap would be, you couldn’t fathom it lasting longer than the four hours it had been - let alone a phone call blaring from his nightstand. 

You scavenged around your car and ended up with a decent ball of random change from the floor mats of your car. Reaching into the backseat you grabbed the sweater you had stashed back there before leaving. You threw it over your head, and pulled your hair from being trapped under the neckline. You braced yourself and did a mad dash to the phone booth. You called Steve three times before you decided your attempts to rouse the, apparently still, sleeping bear were futile and trudged back to your car. After turning your keys in the ignition and warming your stiff fingers in the vents you devised a plan. You'll wait here for the duration of Dustin’s campaign When the meeting is scheduled to end, you return to the phone booth. Given that the meeting goes its usual fifteen minutes overtime, you'll have enough time to call and convince Steve to come and be a hero to both you and Dustin. In the absolute worst, most embarrassing, hoping-you-get-hit-by-lightning case you could ask Gareth for a ride. Out of all the driving-age Hellfire members, he’d probably be most keen on doing you a favor like this. In fact, he said he owed you his “entire life and academic career” when you corrected his French homework for him. But, you've never hung out with, colloquially known to Dustin, “the boys”. Let alone any boy ever. It just felt too intimate to ask him for a ride, besides you weren’t sure you'd be able to handle standing in the vicinity of the leading member of Hellfire who’s been the apple of your eye for the past few months, Eddie.

To set the record straight, Eddie is known as gumdrop to you and Robin (because it is in fact best friend law to have nicknames for your guys’ crushes). Robin, you and Steve have all basked in the shared misery of lovesickness together from behind the counter of your job at Family Video. Besides silently judging customers and their movie choices, you spent your shifts reveling in moments throughout the day when you had brief and blushing eye contact with your respective crushes. 

For now, you were entirely content with adoringly staring at the side of Eddie’s big, boyish head from the last row of your history class. Besides gentle urging from both your closest friends, you’ve never really made a move on him. Other than asking him the day’s date or sharing shocked eye contact whenever your teacher said something especially out of pocket. In the cafeteria, Robin often stared at you knowingly every time you started gumdrop’s direction, giggling when he made a stupid or obscene gesture from the head of his own table. She was frankly disgusted when you blushed at him halfway-choking on a pretzel. You thought, hahaha hes sooo funny and silly he coughed omgg lol his friends didnt notice when the pretzel went downthe wrong pipe ahahha omg hes so cute i didnt even get the ick from that he's like a baby ani-.

That leads you to now, freezing and hopeless. From far away you hear the auditorium doors slam “damn it!” You curse. The hollering of pubescent boys is a telltale sign Hellfire has let out. You decide that it's the lesser of two evils to just ask Gareth for a ride rather than be discovered by a pack of teenage boys as you curl yourself around a pay phone. You put your last 10¢ into the pay phone and add to the avalanche of messages Steve will be bombarded with when he wakes up. “Okay, so! Change of plans, I'm getting a ride you don't need to do anything, goodnight love you bye!” You quickly gush out before you slam the phone back into its holder. Resulting in a  reverberating, metallic chime from the man-handled tech. You lean your back on the wall of the school, pitching both your feet out in front of you and using the push of them to keep you balanced. You take a deep breath, it's refreshing even though stunted by the pinching cold. Moments after you’ve made yourself comfortable against the brick wall, Jeff swings around the corner followed by Freak and Gareth. 

They do look shocked to see you, but certainly not disappointed. In fact, they're probably in heaven. You're a pretty girl stationed just outside of a seemingly successful club meeting. They form a line facing you, and Gareth speaks up first. “Hi, what’re you doin’ here? Like, we don’t mind or anything but Dustin said you were just dropping him off?” You inhale to reply before Jeff blurts out “We’re actually gonna grab some burgers down the road, if you wanted to come?” The sweet boy tries to dull his own enthusiasm by (not)cooly adding “Cause you're with Dustin anyways”. I mean, you are hungry and Dustin loves these guys, why deprive him of a prime Friday night just because you are nervous? You shock yourself with how confidently you reply “Yeah, actually! I would love to, I mean as long as it's not a burden at all!”. 

“Oh shit!” freak interjects and whips his head towards his left, “Jeff I left my backpack in your car”. Jeff deadpans the man before gesturing for him to follow out into the parking lot. Now alone there's a comfortable silence between you and Gareth.

He breaks the silence asking you how your night went. You start, “Uh… my car actually-”.

You’re abruptly cut off by being body slammed into the brick wall behind you. Your senses are overwhelmed by a throb at the back of your head and shoulders paired with the strong scent of a boy. You groan and slowly open your eyes. Standing in front of you Is Eddie Munson in all of his glory - he tightly rounded the corner thinking he would be met with emptiness, but instead slammed you a step back into the school's wall. As he steps back from you he apologizes profusely, “Oh my god, i'm so sorry, seriously! I really didn’t expect to see you there, are you okay?”. You give him a gentle smile and reassure him “no, don’t worry! It’s really okay, like actually it doesn’ even hurt”. He continues to apologize and confirm you haven’t been damaged by his foolery. You continue to tell him that, really, you’re okay. You forget about the cold air, Gareth (who is bent over laughing at his best friend) and the slight pain in your skull. When you realize that: Eddie is still standing very close to you and he is still very cute from that distance. It seems you both realize at the same time that you're standing intimately close,  but he only steps back seconds later when he’s snapped back into reality by Dustin and Mike rounding the corner. 

“HEY GUYS”, Gareth wheezes as he angles himself towards two youngest arrivals. Now fully upright, but still suffering the aftershocks of what is probably the hardest he’s laughed all week. “Eddie just-” he cuts himself off again with guffawing. 

Eddie whips around, “C’mon man it wasn't even that funny” he grits. Though it’s impossible to tell, it sounds like his eyes are wide and pleading as he commands his friend. Eventually, Gareth is able to share the scenario with both the freshman and the boys returning from their car errand. By the time he's gotten it out, even you and Eddie, though blushing, are able to laugh at yourselves, too.

Youv’e all organized yourself into a huddle. Everyone is delighted to confirm that “operation burger” is indeed still a go; mostly unchanged by you, the newest addition to the escapade. You hadn’t found an appropriate time to share the unfortunate predicament that your car could be found in just yet. You decide that it's better to drop the bomb on Gareth after your group diner-date. Hoping to avoid baskining the in the humiliation for the entirely of your time if he so happens to say no. Eddie, being the only owner of a vehicle large enough to transport the entire group of teenagrs, was forced into being the driver. Thankfully though, he doesn’t seem to mind; assuming the role similarly to how he did with becoming the leader of Hellfire club.

Walking to his van, which is parked in the back corner of the parking lot, Eddie and you lag behind the rest of the group. Walking near him, you watch as both of your guys’ breath is visible in the night air. Though Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will often gushed about their weekend-long campaigns to you, you didn’t really know much about DnD. Much to the dismay of the kids, you never joined them in a game no matter how eager they seemed to teach you. “So, how was your, uh, game” you question, “is it, like, finished or successful, or did you win or something?”. Though you cringe at yourself for sounding so amateur in your questioning, you’re proud of yourself for talking unprompted.

His furrowed brows raise as he processes the question. He removes his hands from deep inside his leather jacket pockets so that he can gesture with them. “Well it actually was pretty cool!” he enthuses, and you're immediately relieved that he understood you, “They made a lot of progress in it- but it's still far from being done, like a couple hours at least. They usually take a couple meetings before we can wrap them up. But so far, im totally kicking their asses”. He smirks when he notices that you stared kindly at him with big eyes without his entire spiel. Besides softly reassuring him “nice, that's good..” an awkward silence fell between the two of you.

You're close enough to his van that the freshman who were leading the pack are waiting expectantly at the side of the van. From your peripheral vision, you can see him eyeing you. You probably look pathetic right now, goosebumped legs, and clutching your thin sweater around yourself, in a futile warming hug. “Umm” he breaks the silence, “are you cold? I can give you my jacket, it's no problem really-”. You blush and angle your head to the right, hoping to shield your smirk from him. You whip your head around to respond to him, but he's already it shrugging off. Though you’re delighted to wear his jacket. His jacket! You're scared that he's simply offering because he’s a gentleman. It’s not out of character for him to act so gallantly towards you; he opens the classroom door for you every time he's given the opportunity. One time he even pried your stuck locker open for you while you fawned at his biceps flexing under his Slayer band tee. You grab it from him and enjoy the fact that it’s still warm from his body heat. You also enjoy the look of his outfit, a Dio shirt layered over a white long sleeve. You earnestly thank him before you bundle up in it and overlap the front zippered panels on your stomach, wrapping yourself in it. His jacket smells just like him, perfect and manly without the suffocating amounts of cologne.

The entire group reaches the van and piles in. It seemed Eddie wanted to offer you the passenger seat, but Freak was already buckling himself in before he could ask. You’re all squeezed in the back two rows. You, specifically, are squashed between Mike and Dustin. The ride to the diner is filled with boys recounting the events of the campaign, congratulating and criticizing each other. You reach your destination before you’re even able to entirely settle in, it’s maybe four minutes from your school. He parks in the back of the parking lot. He doesn’t want to clog up prime parking with his massive mode of transport. You all rush into the diner and head to one of the booths that lines the walls of the decrepit diner. He gestures, kindly, for you to take the first spot, nearest to the window. You slide in and he quickly follows suit, he wants to make sure he secures the prime spot next to you. Everyone piles in freak next to Eddie and you end up facing Dustin, and you kick his shins under the table like your siblings. Jeff and Gareth are sitting on the backrest of the booth that both younger boys occupy, leaning in. Weirdly, the diner is barren for a Friday night. Some sleazy party is probably booming in one of the estates in a neighbourhood nearby. Though out of the ordinary, none of the group condemns the empty diner. You are subsequently free from prying eyes of jocks and now have even more reason to be rowdy, though still respectful enough to avoid annoying the entire restaurant, diners and waitstaff, alike.

Mel’s diner is nice enough, it’s had a boost in business since Benny’s went out of business a while back. The seats are bright vinyl leather and the two legged table top is infinitely sticky. Some of the overhead lights flicker occasionally, but overall its a nice place with a gumball machine exactly to the left of the front entrance. 

You keep Eddie’s jacket on, not wanting to lose the conforming weight of it wrapped around your shoulders, it also shields you from the night’s cold seeping in through the front windows just next to you. An older waitress comes and collects your orders. You only want a chocolate shake despite the cold, chocolate milkshakes always hit the spot. Dustin orders one too, only switching it for vanilla. Most of the boys order burgers, fries and drinks. They're probably starving - they've unlikely had any sustenance since school ended other than Mountain Dew and Pringles that they feast on during their campaigns. While waiting for the food to come, the boys continue to recap their campaign and Eddie makes sure to tilt his head towards you to fill in any information he thinks that a non-participant would need to follow along.

It feels awfully intimate to have him so close to you, almost cageling you in every time he verbally annotates the conversation. The old leather seats pucker under his manly frame and his radiating body heat makes your mouth water as he's splayed out next to you. Sometime  after placing your orders, he stretched both his arms around the back of the seat rest. Leaving his arms wide and chest opened. It almost feels like his arm is around your shoulders - being squished three people deep into a two-seater has forced your shoulder near to his armpit. From there, his body heat radiates even stronger.

The waitress eventually brings your guys’ food, she splits it into two runs in order to prevent spilling any. Everyone’s quieted now, fully focused on eating their meal. Eddie keeps his left arm, the one behind you, perched on the back of the seats. His right arm was relieved of its station and holds his burger.

He’s a cute eater, you think. He closes his mouth politely as he chews but still stays engaged in the conversation by furrowing his brows or a strained closed-mouthed smile. As he takes a challengingly large bite of the burger ketchup squeezes from the burger onto his lip and pants, his tongue darts out to lick the small drip from his lips. The drip on his jeans is just above the line that connects his thigh to hip. The ketchup doesn’t immediately absorb into the black denim and almost hovers above it, nestled in the folds of his pants. Now, it is not your fault that the ketchup is a mere four inches from his… manly convexity and it is not your fault that you're entranced by the projection in the crotch of his pants. Your head snaps up when he peers over at you with blushing cheeks, embarrassed to have spilled on himself in front of you, even in such a minor amount. You keep eye contact and barely contain snorting laughs  as he gingerly slides a napkin from the table and wipes the glob off his pants. He still has an unchewed mouthful of burger, bulging his cheeks out like a hamster when he slowly places his pointer finger against his mouth. At that, you both chuckle. He balls his previously pointing hand into a fist to cover his mouth as it opens to laugh.

He smirks the left side of his mouth and side eyes you, in an attempt to keep his head straight as he sneaks one of his fries into your shake. Grinning mischievously as he brings the dipped fry to his mouth. You return the favor, keeping your head straight ahead as you strain your eyes looking to the right to steal one of his fries and eat it bite-by-bite. He doesn’t even mind that you chose one of his perfectly soggy long ones instead of a sub-par fry. 

It’s been awhile since you’ve gotten to the diner. You don't want to leave, you've fallen into comfortable conversation with all the guys at the table. You even basked in moments when all pairs of eyes were on you as you shared juicy bits about school drama that was previously entirely unknown to them.

When your waitress finally arrives you all silently agree to pay for your own meals, it's common knowledge among broke high school kids like yourselves that it's everyman for himself when it comes to paying. Everyone pools their money in the middle of the table. As someone who has easy access to the bills and change that clutter the table, Eddie takes to bundling it up and handing it to the waitress, he tells her to keep the change with an unsubtle wink that she’s unamused with. Eddie doesn’t even look at you as he slides the five dollar bill you placed down to pay, back to you. You assume he thought you laid it out on the table as you rifled through your wallet for exact change. Before you can correct him, though, he's already sliding out of the diner booth. You follow him out and hold your flaccid bill out to him.

 “To pay” to tell him, hoping your assumption had been correct, that he just didn’t notice your bill sitting on the table.

“No uh, I did you! I’m happy to do you!” He says as he stretches his arm up to nervously scratch his neck. 

“What?!” you say as you are laughing at his unintentionally implied dirty talk.

“No- wait, I mean I paid for you! Sorry, like I did it for you…” he becomes shy as he corrects himself and his cheeks grow pink.

You spare the poor guy any more embarrassment and thank him before you all trudge out of the diner. Eddie’s just thankful that Gareth wasn’t within earshot of that one, he was unsure he'd ever live it down.

Everyone reassumes their spots as you crowd yourself in the back of his van, and you're disappointed at how short the drive is. You hoped this moment would last forever, if not a little longer. You enjoy the familial feeling that shines in the van. The cold air that greets you as you step out the van pulls you out of the moment. 

You're sure at this point Gareth will give you a ride home, but that's at the back of your mind as you try to catch Eddie's eye so you can wave him off into the night.

[gingerteafairy]

switch button (todd haynes x reader)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ If there was one thing Todd Haynes wasn't, it was cute. Not even close.

tags n warnings: smut/mdni, dirty talk, love bites and kisses. word count: +700. masterlist

Once again, you were tangled up with Todd, kissing your amazing boyfriend in the warmth of his bed. The two of you had always loved being close like this—comfortable, intimate, perfect. But today, something felt different. More intense.

Your leg was hooked around his waist, pulling him in as if you couldn’t bear to let go. His hands, warm and possessive, had slipped beneath your shirt, fingertips pressing into your hips, leaving faint imprints against your skin. He groaned into your lips, a low, needy sound, tugging you closer with every passing second.

It was no secret that your relationship was intimate—maybe even too much so—shocking everyone around you. But what no one knew was the most intriguing part: you and Todd never had sex.

Which was at least weird considering the humongous amount of times you kissed standing up, on the couch, bed, hands touching the warmest places, but nothing more. You had been dating for a month, however, anytime things got a little warmer down there, Todd stopped, mumbling that it was time to watch a movie or do something else.

But not today, because he seemed so desperate to devour your lips that you even forgot to ask why he always stopped.

Come on, Todd Haynes was so cute, it didn't even seem like he had dirty thoughts under those curls. He was always a gentleman, adoring you. The poor boy blushed violently when you kissed his cheek in the hallways at college. You’d die to find out if Todd was as cute in bed as he was in life.

“Shit, you’re so hot,” he muttered, his hands reaching into your shorts to pull you closer to his visible erection.

“Todd, I want you so bad,” you mewled, hearing him moaning softly into your mouth, pressing your fingers even deeper into your ass. "It's not even funny."

“Hmmm, really?” He whispered, moving your hips to grind on his covered cock, chuckling at your surprised reactions. “You’re driving me insane, you know that?”

“Why don’t you show me?” You hurried, unable to handle the excitement building up in your body any longer.

“With pleasure,” He smiled, taking one last bite at your lower lip.

Todd changed position with impressive ease for someone so cute, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

“Perfect,” he whispered, attacking your neck, not giving you time to consider whether that was really your boyfriend or some succubus possessing his body.

The thing was, Todd was dying to do God knows what to you every time you kissed his rosy lips, knowing that you were wet and needy beneath him. Jerking off after kissing sessions was a common thing, especially thinking about pinning your wrists or your legs impossibly spread wide open for him.

If there was one thing Todd Haynes wasn’t when his cock was aching hard on its confinements, it was cute. And his game-changer was precisely you asking for it.

“God, you’re so needy.” he murmured, sucking on the pressure point, squeezing your wrists slightly tighter. “You have no idea of the effect you have on me."

“Wh… What do I do?” you stuttered, grunting when he sucked harder, scraping his teeth over the spot.

“What you—Do you even know how hard it’s to hold back?” He gasped, pulling away to look at your face as his hands roamed your curves, grabbing the most sensitive places. “You’re so fuckin’ hot, wearing those tiny shorts, moaning when i kiss you. Fuck, I get hard every time you bite my lip with that face. I wonder if it’s to tease me.”

“Sorry, it's just…i want you so much, baby…” You cooed, knitting your eyebrows together on your face, feeling yourself heating up with each word your boyfriend said. "Can't stop thinking about your cock. Just wanted to feel you."

“You're so—fucking cute begging like this,” He chuckled softly, coming close to your lips with his eyes almost closing without leaving yours. “I like that. Almost like you want me to fuck you hard till you forget your name, doll.”

“I—i want it.” you shivered, pulling his face with clear eager. “I want it all, please… just—just fuck me okay, i can't take it anymore.”

“As you wish, baby,” he muttered, already taking off—ripping—your clothes, hovering your legs over his shoulders. If there was one thing Todd Haynes wasn't, it was cute. Not even close. And you learned that the best way. Well, with a little back pain the other day. He knew some really weird positions.

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: Kaneki and Ayato sharing a darling?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, paranoia, clinginess, stalking, overprotective behavior, sadism, delusional behavior, threats, isolation, abduction, violence, death

Tags: @flaming-vulpix

Sharing a darling

🔲🌌Well, this is certainly going to be something. Both of those men would already be overwhelming enough by themselves yet together those only amplify the other's obsessive and protective tendencies. That all is before we are even going to mention that those two would not get along at all at the beginning. Sure, they know each other and they have worked together in the past but when it comes to the topic of you there is no way for compromises. Their obsessions just clash as the way they treat you differs too greatly. On the one hand you have Kaneki who is extremely paranoid, overprotective and clingy who just wants to hide you away and ensure that no one can harm a single hair on your head. Opposite of that there is Ayato who is possessive, harsh yet also overprotective. Differently from Kaneki he is not one to coddle and worship but one to demand and to lash out. Ayato would be far too cruel to you in Kaneki's eyes and in Ayato's opinion it's nothing short of pathetic how down bad Kaneki is for you. Kaneki is far too overprotective to let Ayato anywhere near you and Ayato is far too possessive of you to allow Kaneki to have you. Such conflicts end often in violent fights betwee those two.

🔲​🌌​In regards on how you even made acquaintance with both of them I consider it more likely for you to have known Ayato before Kaneki as the way they fall into an obsessive love differs very greatly. Ayato hates humans for he sees his greatest enemy in them. They hold nothing but prejudice and fear for his kind so in return Ayato only holds hatred and anger for them. It is this mindset which he has been surviving on for years that would make it hard for him to start thinking differently of you and especially difficult to even accept his feelings once something seems to fundamentally change in his perception of you. Kaneki is very different as he falls hard and fast once your kindness and consideration has torn down shaky walls he has been trying to build around himself. There is something holding him back though but it differs greatly from what is holding back Ayato. For Kaneki the barrier that he needs to overcome is his own insecurity and his terrible tendency to overthink. He's terrified to be seen as a monster in your eyes as he remembers how he used to think of ghouls back when he was still a human. Yet who would he be to blame you for being afraid of him? He is a monster after all.

🔲​🌌​Kaneki is blinded by infatuation and a rapidly growing paranoia. Signs so obvious that Ayato can't help but notice them. He himself doesn't know what he is supposed to think as he connects the dots. Part of him even wants to reject what he is seeing with his own two eyes right now. Kaneki is a fool but he is strong. Why would the white-haired ghoul fall for a small prey such as you? Yes, he doesn't think of you to be special enough to have another ghoul fall in love with you yet another part of him just doesn't want to aceept that there is now a competition that can't just be simply killed. After all this would only mean that he would have to rip the mask off of his face, look at himself in the mirror and admit what he is truly feeling for you. So he pushes that idea away as good as he can yet it is hard to ignore something that is so painfully obvious. The possessive part of his obsession threatens to burst out and it all explodes when Ayato catches Kaneki stalking you, admittedly because he himself has been doing it. The very moment his red eyes catch sight of white hair, he acts on sheer impulse as he all but attacks Kaneki who reacts just in time, a look of shock on his face.

🔲​🌌​There is this terrible period of time where both of them only heighten the terrible tendencies of the other person. Ayato only grows more possessive and violent and Kaneki in return grows only more paranoid and overprotective as he witnesses how Ayato is hunting you down. Kaneki abducts you to protect you from the clutches of Ayato which results in Ayato going on a rampage as all he sees is red before he tracks you down. It is the most peaceful option if Kaneki isn't with you whenever Ayato finds you as he will only harshly knock you out and take you away, leading to a meltdown from Kaneki's side once he returns and notices that you are gone. If Kaneki is with you when Ayato finds you which is the more likely scenario as he knows that the younger brother of Touka is after you, a fight is always guaranteed to happen as Ayato chooses violence and Kaneki responds accordingly to protect you. It's destructive, bloody and traumatising for you and it isn't unlikely that you get hurt within it all even if Kaneki is trying his all to protect you. The worst is only waiting once you do get hurt as this triggers Kaneki to activate his Kakuja in which case he is easily able to overhwelm Ayato.

🔲​🌌​Those violent conflicts and clashes eventually reach the knowledge of others. Whenever those two fight, chaos is left in their wake and once the CCG becomes aware of it, they start to investigate. The involvement of doves only adds more fuel to the situation as their mission is to find out who the ghouls responsible for all the destruction are and to eliminate them so that they won't endanger the citizens of Tokyo. Kaneki avoids them as long as they do not confront him or threaten to take you away from him, Ayato is much more happy to show them what happens when they think that they can just follow him and it is his showcase of aggression that only ends with more officers of the CCG investigating and chasing after him and Kaneki. It all ultimately leads to one brutal showcase where Kaneki, Ayato and the doves end up fighting against each other. In the middle of all of it is none other than you. It's all too blurry for you. You vaguely recall that one officer tried to rescue you as soon as they noticed that you were human and that Ayato and Kaneki both went after you the moment they noticed before something hit you. Blood, screams of your names and after that only darkness as you collapse.

🔲​🌌​It's unclear who exactly it was that wounded you during the battle. There was too much happening for Ayato and Kaneki to tell if one of them hit you or if it might have been even one of the doves but all of that fades into irrelevance as you fall down, crimson blood quickly staining your clothes and forming a small puddle on the ground. There's this painful silence for a few seconds following after that before the storm hits with all its strength. For once Ayato is actually grateful for Kaneki's outburst as the white-haired man goes berserk, keeping the doves busy as he leaps to you and quickly carries you somewhere else so that no other attack can hit you again. Any more damage would be fatal and as Ayato decides for once to prioritise your human life as he tries to stop the bleeding, Kaneki creates a massacre as he's in that moment nothing more than a mindless creature who attacks every living thing around him. By the time Kaneki snaps out of it, he's standing in a small pond of blood. Neither the sight or the stench matter to him in that moment as he instantly starts panicking when he is unable to spot you at first until he notices Ayato.

🔲​🌌​The unsung hero of this tale is Ayato as he is the one who at the very least manages to keep a grasp on his rationality as Kaneki is a mess the moment he sees just how bad your wound is. Realising that neither Kaneki nor him are equipped to be of any help of you, he spontanously decides that Anteiku is the best shot both of them have at the moment. So he pushes Kaneki harshly away from your body and barks that what you need is help and not someone pathetically bawling his eyes out over you. So both of them head to the shop, taking everyone by surprise when they arrive with your bloody form in Ayato's arms. The decision to bring you here was no mistake though as you are immediately catered to to everyone's best abilities. Questions are only asked once you are out of any immediate danger though most members of Anteiku can already imagine half of the story as Kaneki's and Ayato's strifes has travelled all around their community. Touka is the one who has a serious word with both of them afterwards, pointing out the obvious that both of them must already know. That both of them have to stop. You nearly lost your life after all all because those two can't stop with their conflict.

🔲​🌌​It takes you days to recover somewhat from the blood loss. Days of bleeding through bandages and sheets. Days of pain and an bacterial skin infection which they are luckily able to treat with antibiotics. All whilst you suffer and recover, it is Kaneki who decides eventually to reluctantly leave your side to approach Ayato after a lot of sleepless nights and heavy consideration. It's the first time both of them have actually talked face-to-face without their kagunes out or without any hostile intents. There's nothing but silence from Ayato's side at first as he doesn't even look at the white-haired man but he is listening nevertheless. Your near-death experience marks a change within this situation. Neither Kaneki nor Ayato are able to deny that what happened to you was their fault, especially from Ayato's side this realisation isn't easy to admit yet the weight of the situation is too heavy for him to ignore his guilt. Kaneki could not survive in a world without you and for that sake he is going to work together with Ayato if it has to be done. He knows after all that without Ayato you might not have made it and that is one thing he is going to be grateful for. The offer only stays as long as Ayato stops hurting you.

🔲​🌌​Ayato takes a lot of time to consider the offer made by Kaneki. Truth is that he doesn't want to share, he's too possessive to ever settle contently with sharing you. However, he knows that he can't beat Kaneki by himself and unfortunately he only has himself in this situation. So reluctantly and with the most bitter of aftertastes Ayato agrees through gritted teeth. Everything is far from over though. In fact a new era with problems is just about to begin. This relationship will never be peaceful, fights will often ensue and they are still capable of ending in violence. Kaneki and Ayato have just learned to see it through that you will be kept out of it all. Their obsession types are just not compatible and they will never be which is something that Ayato and Kaneki just accept. A piece of harmony only happens once Ayato finds himself mellowing out around you which means that physical pain is less likely to be used and which additionally means that there are less fights happening as there is nothing to trigger Kaneki's overprotective paranoia. Still it feels like you are in a downgraded version of tug of war with less blood and violence. Both of them can't stand to be around each other for too long.

🔲​🌌​As Ayato isn't clingy and needs time away from you, there is more time that you spend overall with Kaneki which is one of the few things that work fine for Kaneki. Once Ayato demands his share of time with you though, he expects the white leech to actually stay away. To no surprise Kaneki struggles fairly much with that part of the deal as part of him is still terrified that Ayato might hurt you and it is obvious in the way he searches your body for any bitemarks or wounds as soon as he is back. Ironically enough both of them could potentially balance each other out nicely as they are complete opposites when it comes to the way they treat you but they aren't close enough for that to ever happen. Mutual tolerance is the best level that they are ever going to reach. After all Ayato would only get annoyed if he had to watch Kaneki, who is despite everything a very strong ghoul, clinging to you like a puppy whilst Kaneki would probably have sooner or later a meltdown if he were to watch how rude and harsh you tend to be treated by Ayato. So it's best for both if they just try to co-exist without getting in each other's way too much. It's better for you as well.

[adumbratrapedme]

Atsumu Miya x reader | teen pregnancy. pt 1 the news.

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between atsumu and reader.

wc. | genre. angst to fluff |cw/tags. angst, teen pregnancy mentions, fluff, etc.

teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

╭⋅ So, this happens on your third year at higschool, you guys dated since your first and at first it was good, but... im a sucker for "fuckboy!atsumu" allegations and agst so...

╭⋅ Atsumu definitely has that charming, cocky persona, and he’s known to flirt with anyone who catches his eye. But when he’s with the you, he can be surprisingly soft and genuinely sweet. Still, it’s a struggle for him to drop the “playboy” act completely, which causes a lot of tension in u guys relationship.

╭⋅ You guys always break up- and come back- break up- and come back-

╭⋅ Despite breaking up (thing he regrets everytime) he hates seeing you with someone else and can’t stand the thought of u moving on.

╭⋅ The pregnancy news hits him harder than he admits, and he starts questioning whether he’s ready to be a father and whether he deserves the chance to make things right with you-

╭⋅ DEFINITELY struggles with the idea of being a father, especially because he’s used to living a carefree life. He’s not sure he’s capable of stepping up, but as the pregnancy progresses, he realizes he might have to.

╭⋅ Before he fully realizes the gravity of the situation, Atsumu might initially avoid facing the pregnancy news because he’s scared of what it means for his future. He doesn’t know how to balance his carefree attitude with the responsibility that comes with having a child. It’s a huge step for him to admit he’s not ready, but once the reality sets in, he’ll struggle to find his place in the reader’s life again.

╭⋅ And in case you are curious this takes place in the same "universe" as osamu's teen pregnancy storie mwhaheheh

It’s been two months since you and Atsumu broke up—again. The same cycle, the same arguments, the same bullshit promises since you were in your 1st year. He’d swear he’d change, swear he was done flirting with other girls, done making you feel like you were just another option. And maybe he meant it in the moment, but he never followed through. So, you ended things.

But, of course, Atsumu never really left you alone.

Even now, as you sit in the classroom with a classmate, laughing at something dumb he said, you can feel Atsumu’s eyes on you. He’s standing by the doorway, pretending to talk to one of his teammates, but you know he’s watching.

Your classmate nudges you. “Miya’s glaring at me.”

You sigh. “Let him.”

Truthfully, you have much bigger problems than Atsumu’s jealousy. Like the positive pregnancy test sitting at the bottom of your school bag, wrapped in tissues and regret.

You haven’t told anyone. Haven’t even figured out how to process it yourself. But the weight of it is suffocating, pressing against your ribs, making every interaction with Atsumu feel ten times heavier.

When the bell rings, you head out quickly, but you barely make it a few steps down the hall before a familiar hand grabs your wrist.

“You’ve been avoidin’ me,” Atsumu mutters, his grip firm but not tight. There’s that usual cocky smirk on his lips, but his eyes flicker with something else.

“I don’t owe you anything,” you reply, pulling away.

His jaw clenches. “Who’s that guy?”

You blink. “What?”

“The guy you were sittin’ with,” he says, voice dropping. “You datin’ ‘im?”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Oh my god, Atsumu, are you serious? You’ve spent the last two months acting like I don’t exist, and now you’re mad because I sat with someone else?”

“I never acted like ya didn’t exist.” His voice is quieter now, rough around the edges. “Yer the one who walked away.”

You exhale slowly, gripping the strap of your bag. This is pointless. He’s always like this—possessive when it suits him, distant when it doesn’t.

You should just walk away. But the words are already clawing their way out of your throat.

“I’m pregnant.”

The hallway noise fades. Atsumu just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Like his brain is still buffering, trying to process what you just said. Finally, he breathes out a short, shaky laugh. “What?”

You hold his gaze, refusing to repeat yourself. His smirk wavers, and then, for the first time in all the years you’ve known him, Atsumu looks genuinely lost.

You don’t wait for him to process it. You turn, your feet carrying you down the hallway, away from him, away from everything. Your heart is pounding, each step feeling heavier, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Atsumu doesn’t say anything more. Not that you’d expect him to. He’s still standing there, frozen, his mind racing, but no words come out.

As you step outside, the cool air hits your face, and you breathe it in, trying to steady yourself. You have a plan. Sort of. You’ll figure this out, somehow. You always do.

But then, you hear his voice again.

“Wait.”

It’s soft, hesitant—definitely not the usual Atsumu, not the cocky asshole he always is.

You don’t stop.

“Hey,” he calls, louder now, more desperate, his tone slipping into something unfamiliar.

This time, you force yourself to pause but don’t turn around.

Atsumu’s footsteps echo behind you, and he catches up quickly, standing a few feet away. You still don’t look at him. You don’t want to.

“I—” He hesitates, and you hear him swallow. “Is it mine?” You freeze, your blood running cold for a split second, before everything inside you snaps. You turn around sharply, fury building up in your chest.

“Of course it’s fucking yours, Atsumu,” you snap, your voice cutting through the air. “Unlike you, I don’t go sleeping around with people after I end a relationship.” (I have a question guys, english people, is it “unlike you” or “like you”. ?? Confused at 100% hope is understandable tho)

His face goes pale. He opens his mouth to say something but falters, clearly not knowing how to respond to that. You can see the guilt in his eyes, the regret, but you’re too far gone to care.

“You think I’d come to you with this if there was any doubt?” Your voice shakes, but you keep your gaze steady. “I’m not some fucking idiot who plays games like you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long while. He just stands there, staring at you as if you’ve slapped him across the face. And maybe, in some ways, you have.

Finally, he takes a step forward, his voice quieter now, as if he’s trying to find his footing. “I’m sorry.”

But you don’t want his apology. Not this time.

“I don’t need your apology,” you reply coldly, turning to walk away. “I need you to stop pretending you care when you don’t.”

Atsumu doesn’t follow you. Not this time. You hear him stand still, the silence heavy between you two, and for the first time, you don’t feel the slightest urge to look back.

Taglist:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02 @alpha-mommy69 @curlyhairkk @b1xi @reuka1

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! also if u only want to be tagged on specific characters.

-if i forgor someone pls tell me and dont be shy, i get really lost with the taglist thingy ahhh

I HATE THE TWINS SO BAD (jk i love them) i always get confused on who is who, who is pee pee head whois poo poo hair anyways huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh sprry for late update, im doing a few other stuff lately but i. uh. i deeply apolgzhe!!