#I still remember the first time I cut my hair short

[s4turn-ly]

Fem stsg ‼️💞🙆

And little hcs about the hair ties

I really like the idea that gjo and geto matched different things! So I applied that context with the hair ties.

In HI gjo is the one who appears with the hair ties for the first time! Maybe as a gift? To match after seeing that gto always has her hair up

Can I clarify that gojo's hairstyle in HI is courtesy of geto. (?☝️

After the breakup, Geto adopts Gojo's hairstyle, while Gojo lets her hair grow in a mesSy way.

Despite everything, both of them still wear the hair ties. Bcs they are both #pathetic

So after Gto death., the same night of the night parade, Gjo cuts her hair! It was hard for her to brush it/or pick it up, touching it made her remember the times when Geto did it for her. She got a lump in her throat touching her own hair, with the same hands that took Gto life.

in a panic attack she grabbed the scissors and cut it off.

There was no point in wearing the hair tie anyway if no one was wearing the other half.

Between 28 and 29 she keeps her hair short! She even gets an undercut after leaving the PR.

In my head she still keeps both hair ties on her wrist or neatly stored away.

[chanranghaeys]

👼 a regular korean citizen

pairing: idol!active duty!jeonghan x gn!reader word count: 817 genre: fluff, slice of life rating: pg tags: sleepy couple, morning musings, mainly an imagine of sorts, reader is tired bc of work, mentions of active korean military duty are NOT accurate and i do not claim their accuracy so please bear with my descriptions i rly did just make them up as i went warnings: none request from my love, tara (@diamonddaze01)! “one waking up before the other, so they make up their side of the bed and can’t help but tuck in their sleeping lover as they do so” with jeonghan pls and thank u i miss my husband a/n: thank u lovely tara! i indeed got out of the dreaded writing slump. and it’s my first time writing jeonghan so i hope i did him justice for u!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jeonghan distinctly remembers going to sleep on his own with no one else on the bed. It was a pleasant surprise for him to see you on the other side when he rolled over.

If there was anything he enjoyed most about being an active member of the Korean military, it was that he was not subject to the grueling demands of an idol’s schedule. He could just be a regular Korean citizen—something he hasn’t had the luxury to experience in about a decade.

He couldn’t say the same for you, though, who also worked in the entertainment industry with hours just as long as his used to be. It was evident in the way you were sprawled over the bed, caring less about how you looked and how you ended up sleeping. Your neck was in such an awkward position compared to your body that Jeonghan was so sure you’d wake up with a stiff neck, and he would not allow that.

He knew you were as much of a light sleeper as he was. And as much as he wanted to caress your face or smooth down your hair, he shouldn’t for fear of waking you up from a much-deserved slumber.

But he wasn’t Yoon Jeonghan, part-time troublemaker, for nothing. And he missed you, as he did every day, so what other reason could there be to justify him not holding the love of his life as dearly as he wanted to?

You must’ve been absolutely drained because you didn’t even react at the gentlest of his touches. Jeonghan smiled and continued his soft strokes on your head. A forehead kiss did merit the slightest reaction from you—an automatic one where you seemed to involuntarily lean into the touch of his lips making contact on your skin.

He smirked. If only you could see it and how much it gave away how smug he felt to see you still craving for his touch. He checked the time from the standard military watch on his hand—5:37 am. It was time for him to get up.

He checked his phone, tapping into your work calendar to see your schedule. You still had a few hours of sleep left before your shoot scheduled for 1 pm. That was good, he thought, you need all the rest before another chaotic variety show shoot until whatever ungodly hour of the night.

The military discipline easily merged with Jeonghan’s idol discipline. It may not be the same for all fellow idols on active duty, but others have mentioned how similar both were. It was the implicit and discrete need for order and organization that both disciplines shared. It made sure everything was clean-cut and picture-perfect for idols on screen, and that everyone followed uniform standards with a code of conduct for active soldiers to learn.

Jeonghan was used to it. And such disciplines included even the simplest task of making the bed. He fluffed his pillow, he fixed the sheets he messed up on his side with a military tuck—and you didn’t even budge. You were out cold.

Jeonghan huffed a sigh, running his hands through his short-cropped hair—something he was still getting used to. “Aigoo-yaaaaa” was all he said with all the endearment in his heart.

He shuffled over to your side and, as gently as he could, fixed your sleeping position to avoid that impending stiff neck of yours. He also fixed the clothes already riding up in places because of how haphazardly you put them on. Thankfully, you remembered to remove your makeup before going to sleep this time. He was almost late for duty the last time he stayed to carefully remove it for you while you slept.

Carefully, he fluffed up your pillow and fixed the sheets as much as possible. He opened up the blanket and let it rest on your sleeping figure. He so badly wanted to engulf you in a warm embrace, but he loved tucking you in and seeing your relaxed expression just as much.

He left one final parting gift: a kiss on your cheek. Okay, maybe more than one gift—another kiss, a light brush of his lips on yours.

Jeonghan’s military enlistment allowed him to be a regular Korean citizen. That just gave him more opportunities to spend time with you and treat you the way a regular Korean citizen would. It was a welcome break for your relationship if it meant he could love you without all of the lights and cameras and judgmental eyes in the way.

Walking from the bedroom to the kitchen, he checked his phone once again and opened the calendar app. Peering at the time block for 7 pm later, he made sure his schedule and yours was a free time block. He couldn’t wait to share the wild stories about him and his fellow military men that would have to wait until tonight.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: still accepting requests for my little drabble request game! all you gotta do is shoot an ask <3

post post a/n: svt won TWO daesangs at mama 2024 today!! HUHU i am proud of my bois (∩˃o˂∩)♡

[megan0013]

soulmate au wherein you start to see color as soon as you make eye contact with your soulmate, but lose the ability when they die

which is why gabriel is adamant emilie is still alive and savable because if she were really dead his vision would have reverted back to grayscale and he can still tell the difference between orchid and amethyst at a glance, thank you very much

fast forward to hawkmoth’s defeat at the hands of the heroes and ladybug’s confirmation that there’s nothing they can do for emilie and that she is, in fact, dead. but that doesn’t make sense because gabriel can still see colors - can still see the blue sky the morning of her funeral, and the pink dress he’d chosen for her to be buried in, and the green grass as her casket descends into the ground

life goes on and the color never fades -

not like those few times it had when he still wore the miraculous

those had been some of the worst nights of his life. when the color of his son’s hair had lost its golden hue and his assistant’s bright blue eyes looked grey (the fact those nights always coincided with nathalie’s weakest never crossed his mind, nor did the way everything around him seemed brighter whenever she took a deep, fortifying breath)

- and then one day adrien asks nathalie if she can see color, why isn’t she with her soulmate?

“i don’t know who they are.”

“how can you not know?!”

“there were a lot of people around when it happened.” she shrugs and then, at adrien’s incredulous expression, elaborates, “i was on a school trip to the musée d’orsay. one second everything was in black and white, and the next i could see color. it happened so fast i don’t even know if he realized it was me he was looking at. and by the time i’d gotten over my shock the teachers were herding us onto the next activity.”

“do you remember anything about him?”

“the details are fuzzy now, but he was older than me by a few years. and he was very tall.” she pauses, thinking. “and his hair was cut short, but dyed bright red.”

adrien’s eyes narrow. “is that why you have a red streak in your hair?”

nathalie smiles and tilts her head. “you know, adrien, i never really thought about it like that. but maybe.”

“how long ago was this?”

adrien and nathalie both turn at the sound of gabriel’s sudden question, completely unaware of how intently he’d been listening to their conversation since the mentioning of the station

“i’d just turned fourteen.”

gabriel calculates the timing in his head, frown deepening as nathalie and adrien turn to a different topic

a few days later an increasingly agitated gabriel bites the bullet and calls amélie, who reluctantly admits that, no, gabriel was not actually emilie’s soulmate and that, apparently, she had known her soulmate for years before she’d met him but couldn’t stand the boy and had jumped at the chance to be gabriel’s soulmate when he’d mistaken her for his

furious, he slams down the phone and goes to find the old photo albums stashed in the back of his closet

and there, on the second page of a scrapbook emilie had made him for their six-month anniversary, in the background of the very first selfie he’d taken with emilie was a gangly, pale girl with a heart-shaped face and familiar bright blue eyes

gabriel’s heart stutters to a stop, eyes flicking from the bright red buzz cut he’d very briefly sported to emilie’s radiant smile and back to the teenage version of nathalie

nathalie

his soulmate

[lonewolfel]

So I got inspired. Instead of working on my finals I wrote this. Trigger warning for character death. Short one shot below the cut.

Athena's hands were shaking. They were bright pink from the long hours…days scrubbing her hands. (They should have been coated with blood. She still felt it there congealing against her skin.)

Athena blinked. She saw her hands still coated with blood. She gasped and dropped the scissors onto the ground. It made a clanging sound. (Nothing like the dull thump of a spear hitting the training grounds floor.)

Athena shook her head. She was better than this. Stronger than this. Today she was to become an Olympian. This wasn't even the first time she has lost someone.

(She remembers her mother's phantom touches as she was consumed. Her essence erased by her father's, her mother's husband. She remembered her own frantic attempts to escape.)

Athena picks up the scissors. She won't let herself fall apart, all the gods were expecting her. She wouldn't allow herself to be defeated so easily.

With shaking hands Athena began to cut her hair. Auburn hair clumps fell to the ground. (Crimson drops stained the sand.) She knew her hair was uneven but she doesn't think she could handle looking at herself in a mirror. (Pallas had been the one to do her hair.)

Athena brushed off her chopped hair from her skin. She changed into an beautifully crafted chiton that she had made.

As Athena left the bathroom she grabbed her spear. It had been cleaned and worked on by Hephaestus. (She could still feel the river cool blood run down the spear staining her hands. Forever staining her hands.)

Athena walked out of her new palace. The other gods stopped to stare at her. She could hear them whisper to each other.

Athena paid them no mind. She climbed the stairs to her father's thrown.

There Zeus sat on his thrown. Athena knelt before him. Zeus rose.

"Family, we have gathered here today to welcome a new goddess among us. I present to you Pallas Athena," Zeus's voice boomed out.

Athena kept in her flinch at the title. (It was mocking her friend. Her killer now held her name.)

"The goddess of battle strategy."

Athena felt anything but a master at strategy when you accidently kill your best friend in a friendly spar.

"Wisdom."

If she was so smart why couldn't she save Pallas.

"Crafting. Rise daughter."

On numb legs Athena stood.

Zeus presented Athena a shield. She numbly took it. (The gift was mocking she couldn't protect anyone.)

"Welcome home, daughter."

This wasn't home. Athena was forced to leave the only home she had.

Silently Athena promised never to get close to another being. For as long as she was alive she was a threat to those she loves.

Welcome to "Tasha don't color the sketch" challenge, level impossible

Seriously what are sketches I sure as hell don't know then

Anyway have this pic of Athena cutting her hair after Pallas's death (as a sign of mourning) bc ANGST

[tooranges]

baby's first haircut ✂️✂️✂️

from 03/2022

[littlechibs]

its always really surprising to me when i cut my hair and see just HOW MUCH HAIR i really have like

i usually have my hair really short (like close to a pixie but not quite) but it had been growing out since late summer and had grown halfway down my neck? not quite bob length but it was getting there. anyways i cut it, and again it wasnt that long. but there's enough hair there to probably make a small but VERY fuzzy puppy out of it.

[leejeann]

I had a rough walk to work today and was just in a meh mood in general, but about a block from work I passed an older lady and she goes "Oh, you have beautiful hair! Is it down to your waist? [I said almost and gestured to about where it falls when it's down] That's what I was thinking, wow"

(my hair was up in a clip because it was windy today)

and like guys ;-;

[phagodyke]

actually ive been thinking abt this a lot lately like basically for years i assumed i was very (cis)het passing and only recently ive become aware that i am in fact. very obviously perhaps almost comically gay to other queer ppl. like lmaoooo ok then

[eudaimaniacs]

cherry (old! logan howlett x female reader)

character/universe: logan howlett/wolverine (x-men/marvel)

word count: 1.7k words

warning/s: full-on smut (minors, dni). loss of virginity and age gap

notes: i have a headache from swimming yesterday but still managed to finish this in a day (so it's not proofread). i have tons of requirements to do so i may do an occasional small imagine once in a while. anyways, enjoy!

You started dating Logan six months ago, and when the conversation about sex came up, you shamefully admitted that you're still a virgin. You didn't want to look like a little girl to the older man since you knew that he had dated and slept with numerous women in the past. When you let out those three words of truth, you expected him to break up with you. However, Logan smirked and remarked how he hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time.

So, it was a matter of waiting for you to lose your virginity to Logan.

You went to your close friends for sex advice. They weren't experienced with the topic but teased that you're going to fuck an old, attractive man. With a few good luck, you readied yourself for the day Logan will take your virginity. You didn't bother searching online since watching porn made you cringe. Additionally, the boys you dated were either clueless or too eager only fuck you. Logan wasn't like them; he cared and didn't date you because you were innocent and pretty.

One night, when you stayed at Logan's house, you decided to lose your virginity finally. You wore a white lace-trimmed tank top with black pajama shorts. You used the cherry lipgloss you bought for this occasion to make the night extra special. Logan donned the wifebeater tank top you loved. His salt-and-pepper hair and beard made him extra sexy, or maybe it was the age gap.

You two cuddled on the queen-sized bed you cleaned before this night. The softness of the pillows and the blankets didn't lessen your anxiety. With you touching his chest and Logan snaking his hand around your waist, you waited for the opportunity to bring up the conversation about sex again.

"Logan, honey? I have something to ask you," you whispered as you scratched his chin.

The older man hummed in agreement as he waited for your question.

Finding the right words, you blurted out, "Are you ready to have sex with me tonight?" With wide eyes and a beating heart, you hoped Logan wouldn't notice your nervousness.

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. Logan remarked, "I'm ready when you are, princess."

Your gaze softened as Logan agreed to have sex with you. However, it dawned on you that you didn't know how to start. Were you supposed to pleasure Logan first, or is he the one who should do it first? Should you take off your clothes when does it too? Who goes first? Who comes second? Your mind raced with the inexperience you didn't bother to fix.

"What's the matter, [Y/N]?" Logan noticed that you weren't taking action. You didn't want to admit you didn't know what to do. What if Logan wasn't attracted to your inexperience? What if he hated how awkward you are at initiating sex?

You took a deep breath before admitting to Logan, "I'm n-not too s-s-sure what to do, Logan. I tried to, you know, do my research about sex. S-so I'm sorry if I seem to be aw-"

Logan cut you off before finishing to tell him the truth. He sat up and rested on the headboard. The older man commanded you to take a seat on his lap. You quickly followed and rested your head on his chest. The beat of his heart assured you that Logan would be understanding about your anxiety about sex.

"It's okay, [Y/N]. You don't have to worry about having sex for the first time. I'm here to guide you. Remember when I told you how I hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time? I want your first time to be special, [Y/N]," Logan softly whispered as he caressed your back to relieve you.

You giggled and raised your head to kiss his neck gently. Logan chuckled at your sudden, playful attitude after assuring you everything would be okay. You pushed up your chest against his, and the older man seethed as he saw your breasts.

"Look at you now. You're now teasing me with your boobs. I thought you were nervous," Logan chuckled as he massaged your butt. You gave him a beck before replying, "Maybe you cast a spell on me, honey. I got a bit fired up with that sweet talk you did."

Logan lifted your chin and saw your glossy eyes accompanied by the cherry lipgloss. Your innocence, mixed with playfulness and the cute face and outfit you had, made Logan's heart race. He couldn't believe that you trusted him to be your first time. His rough, veiny hands caress your shoulder as he toys with the thin strap of your top. Your breath hitched up at the older man's soft and sensual action. You touched his chest to support yourself and felt your pussy wanting to be touched.

You slowly rubbed your clothed vagina on his black denim jeans as Logan went under your top to grope your breasts. You let out a shaky moan as you chased your high. Logan smirked as he saw your face contorting at the newfound pleasure.

"Let me do something, princess. Lay down for me," Logan grabbed your thighs, leading you to stop rubbing your pussy against his jeans. You were unsatisfied that he prevented you from chasing your climax. However, you were equally excited about what he would do next. You lay down on the bed as Logan told you and waited for his following action.

Logan kneeled at the end of the bed and asked, "May I take off your shorts, princess?" His rough hands caress the softness of your covered thighs. You slowly nodded, not wanting to keep Logan waiting for your response. He chuckled and reassured you that he would always be patient with you. You felt Logan sliding off your black pajama shorts, and you lifted your legs for him to take it off easier. The older man sucked his teeth as the sight of your lacy pink panties appeared.

Your heart was beating fast since you were one undergarment away from exposing your pussy. Logan pushed the fabric to the side and smelled your arousal. Sweet. He slowly circled your clit and licked your pussy to taste you. Logan moaned as he ate you; he wanted to do it fast as he had never tasted a virgin pussy before. However, knowing this was your first time, he took it slow. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of Logan's tongue pleasuring you. You grabbed the bedsheets and screamed his name.

As you felt your stomach twisting, Logan stopped and wiped his lips coated with your arousal. You curved your eyebrows in disappointment as Logan continued teasing you. You whined about how he should stop it and remarked that you wanted to orgasm badly. Logan grabbed the hem of your tank top, telling you to take them off. He fondled your breasts and kissed you.

Logan shushed you and whispered, "I'm only prepping you, princess. I'm now going to give you the real thing." He stood up and unbuckled his belt for his massive penis to escape. You gasped at the length of it. How is it going to fit you? You were both hungry and scared of the enormous cock staring at you.

"Don't worry, [Y/N]. I'll take it slow, and you tell me if I need to take it out. Got it, princess?" Logan stared at your lust-filled eyes, waiting for your approval. You whispered a soft yes as you braced yourself for his length to push in. Logan grabbed your hips as he slowly entered inside of you. Your eyes suddenly opened at the foreign sensation penetrating you.

You let out a few tears but remained strong as you didn't want to embarrass yourself by tapping out. Logan saw it and whispered, "[Y/N], are you okay? Do I need to take it out?"

You shook your head and responded, "I'm okay, Lo. I need to adjust a bit to your length." Logan heartily chuckled as he rested his head beside your neck. You hugged his back and waited for the pain to subside. Taking a deep breath, you let out a small moan, signaling Logan to pick up the pace.

Logan started to thrust slowly and made sure that you weren't crying because of the pain. He lifted himself and pounded you. You grabbed his chest as you felt the shape of his dick molding your pussy. You screamed his name and told him how good it felt. Logan saw your bouncing tits and squeezed them.

"Lo-Logan, please kiss me. P-please, I need you to kiss me," you panted as you grasped the sheets. Logan leaned in to passionately kiss you. He tasted the sweetness of cherry lipgloss and let his tongue in. You scratch his back as you feel your high coming.

"I'm a-about to-fuck. I'm cumming, Logan!" You screamed as the older man quickened his pace to reach his high, too. You cried out pleasure as you felt his dick growing inside of you.

Logan hungrily kissed your neck and groaned at the sensation of your tightness. He went wild as he sensed his orgasm chasing him. You grabbed his hair to brace yourself from the immense pleasure coming.

"Let go, princess. Fuck, I'm close too. Come on, princess. Cum for me," Logan moaned as he quickly pounded for the two of you to release. You felt a wave of pleasure crashing over you as Logan did one effective thrust. You screamed out his name as your legs went numb at the pleasure.

Logan stayed inside of you as he released his cum inside of you. He pulled out to see the sheets stained with blood and your once-virgin pussy leaking with his cum. The older man kissed your forehead and grabbed a towel at your dresser to clean you up.

"How was it, princess? Was it good?" Logan asked as he gently wiped your thighs. You sat and rested your head on the board to look at him better.

You giggled and replied, "That was the best, Logan. I couldn't have asked for anything better." He softly grinned and leaned in to give you a soft, deep kiss. Logan savored the sweet taste of the cherry lipgloss. You hummed as he continued kissing you. And as the night became darker, the two of you slept soundly as the imprint of your gloss and virginity marked Logan and his warm cum filling you.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[reiderwriter]

So obviously Spencer is iconic for his wide range of haircuts over the show, and I have this vision of a Spencer x hairdresser fic where he goes to the same hairdresser all the time because he likes the routine and it’s what he’s used to. So like they’re low-key friends bc he’s been her client so long, but then she notices he can’t come as usual and he tells her it’s because he’s always away or working late. So because they’re close she gives him private late appointments after she closes bc they’re more accessible for him, and then they’re always together late at night, and eventually they fall for each other!! And like she loves his curls and cringed when he wanted it cut short but loves it regardless AHH I JUST LOVE IT. Bonus points if Spencer gets to recommend his hairdresser girlfriend to his teammates just to brag about the fact he has a hot girlfriend lmao. I get it’s kinda long lol, if it’s too long a premise then no worries, just sharing it is nice :)

A/N: Hi! I love the idea of hair stylist reader, so I had a lot of fun writing this~♡ Thank you for your request, I hope you enjoy it!

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: implied Autistic Reid, brief mentions of sensory issues, writer does not care for the shows Canon hair continuity and does basically whatever she wants.

Masterlist

The first time you'd met Spencer Reid, you hadn't been able to cut his hair. Which was a damn shame because it really did need cutting. 

Sweeping up the floors of the hair salon you worked at, you had noticed the man lingering outside, wringing his hands together and pushing them awkwardly through his hair, approaching and retreating every few seconds. 

You watched him through the mirrors, and let him dance around like that for five minutes before deciding that the evening breeze would be a boon during the hot summer night that was about to set in on you. 

Opening the salon door, you stepped outside and soaked in the fresh air before turning to the now frozen, slightly awkward man. 

“Can I help you?” You tried to put a welcoming smile on your face, but the salon was past closing and empty beside you. You should've been heading home by now, but something in the man's posture had you dawdling.

“The barber shop down the road closed down,” he said quickly, as if the words were practised on his to guess moments before. 

“Yes, that's true. It's been six months now.”

“Six months?” he squeaked out, running a hand through his hair as he turned inwards. 

“Do you… need a haircut?” 

“Yes. Yes, are there any other barber shops in the area?” 

You rolled your eyes and walked back into the salon, picking up a robe and a shoulder cover and spinning around the closest chair to welcome him. 

“Well, are you coming in?” 

“But you're closed. Your sign says you're closed.” 

“And I'm still here, aren't I?” 

He didn't argue any further and hesitantly stepped into the salon. 

You helped him out of his bag and put it away before helping him into the robe and shoulder pad. 

He awkwardly stood around as you prepared your scissors and station again, switching on the mirror light so you could fully see his face and hair. 

And damn was he attractive. As you smoothed his hair out of his face, you were met with warm brown eyes, open and anxious, like a deer caught in headlights. Or, more accurately, a dear caught in a hair salon. 

You had to blink and look away as you remembered what you were about, standing up and leading him over to the sink. 

“I'm… I'm a little bit sensitive about my hair,” he admitted quite meekly as you tested the temperature of the water. 

“Okay. Is there anything specific?” 

He sat himself in the chair but didn't lower his head to the bowl, so you waited. 

After a minute or two, he gently lowered his head to the bowl, and you helped his progress, making sure he was comfortably settled. He didn't speak, just let his shoulders relax and closed his eyes as you turned the water on his locks. 

You enjoyed the simple repetitions of your job. Everyone's hair was different, that was true, but there were really only so many ways to wash hair. 

You rinsed his hair thoroughly, keeping the water away from his face and ears with a face guard before beginning to lather it up. 

For a man who hadn't seen the inside of a salon in six months and likely a hairbrush in the same length of time, his hair was healthy. 

De-tangling as you went, you ran your hands through the lengths of his hair, taking note of how it fell, which parts were healthy, and which had developed split ends. Then you began massaging his head, working the shampoo into his roots, making sure his scalp was free from any possible dirt or dry skin. 

This was the best part of the haircut for you, and you knew your regular clients enjoyed it greatly as well. Which is why you probably shouldn't have been too surprised when the man fell asleep. 

It took you a few minutes to realize that was what happened, the face guard obscuring his face from your vision. When you squeezed the water from his hair, patted it dry, and twisted it into a towel so the water wouldn't run down his back, you had no clue that he was away with the fairies. 

It wasn't until you asked him to stand, and he didn't even move that you moved around the sink and lifted the face guard. 

If he seemed anxious awake, it had melted away now. He looked younger asleep, more calm and confident somehow. His eyelashes were long, a fact you only noticed when you leaned in to get a better look at him. 

It was your hand unconsciously tracing a hand along his jaw that woke him back up, and for a second, you just stared at each other, faces inches apart. 

“I'm.. I'm so sorry, I should go. Thank you for… I should go,” he said hurriedly, pulling the robes and towels off and snatching his bag up, running out the door. 

“Wait, your hair,” you called after him, but he was gone. 

And he hadn't paid. 

It took a week for you to collect the payment, though you couldn't care less about the money anyway. 

But a week thinking about the man's delicate features, his shy smile and stutter, and you were very distracted. 

Thinking about him had become your full-time job, as much as cutting hair had, and you'd had a few close encounters with the scissors when you were lost in thought. 

You'd been thinking up back stories for the man ranging from the romantic to the obscure to the downright realistic. So, a week later, you found yourself behind on work and needing to stay late, just as he stepped into the shop a second time. 

“Hello?” You shouted from the backroom, hearing the doorbell jingle as it opened. “We're actually closed right now, so- oh.” 

He stood awkwardly in the door, his face already flushed slightly. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” you said, trying to stop the grin spreading across your face. You didn't want to scare him off a second time. 

“Last time, I… kinda ran away. I was… I'm not the best with-” 

“With haircuts?” 

“With change.” You both nodded at that, awkwardly staring at each other. 

“So…?” You lead, trying to encourage him to introduce himself, hoping he would reveal something you didn't already know. 

“You're closed again, but could you cut my hair?” He asked, pushing the long locks back on his head as he stood a little taller. 

“It would be my pleasure…” you trailed off as a question, needing to know his name. 

“Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor… just Spencer is fine if you'd prefer.” 

“I'm Y/N. Come and take a seat.” 

You slid him into the robes once again and got through a hair wash without any accidental naps this time. Though you did notice that he seemed to be enjoying it just as much. 

His sighs left you feeling hot, your heart beating as you focused on his hair to draw your gaze from his lips. 

When he was back I'm front of the mirror, he again looked like a scared cat that had been backed into the corner. 

“So, what'll it be, Spencer?” You asked cheerily, combing your hand through his locks to detangle them. 

“Hmm? Oh, a water would be nice.” 

“For your hair, Spencer. What haircut do you want?” 

“Oh! Oh, um, just a…just a haircut.” 

Your face scrunched up in confusion as he doubled down. 

“But what kind of haircut?” 

“What kind?” 

You pulled away from his chair for a minute and went to grab a cut reference book. 

“Okay, so we've got undercuts, or trims, I can do pompadour or bowl cut or-” 

You looked at Spencer's face again and saw that he looked more than confused. 

“How about I just cut your hair and after you tell me if you like it or not?” 

He nodded and gave you a weak smile as you grabbed your scissors. 

Twenty minutes of silence later, and you felt Spencer exhale in relief as you dusted off the back of his neck and pulled the robes off of his clothes. 

You'd gone for a shorter cut, but his curly hair had such a nice natural texture that you left it a bit longer on top. Without his hair in his face, his jawline was sharper, his eyes brighter, and you were somehow more infatuated. 

He stood up shyly and you smiled at how good he looked. 

“Okay, perfect! Let me just-” You lifted your hand and smoothed out some of his hair, picking up some strands and pushing them back and forth until it was just right. 

He caught your hand just as you were about to pull away, and you suddenly realized how close he was. Or more accurately how close you had gotten. It was like you were breathing the same air. 

“D-Do you like it?” You asked, voice small and high as it battled your heartbeat to be heard. 

“Yeah. I like it. It looks… it looks like a haircut.” 

You giggled as his grip became gentler, and your hand fell down to your side, brushing his chest gently as it descended. 

“How much do I owe you?” He asked, and you led him over to the register to complete the payment. 

“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his bags to head out the door. 

“Just doing my job. I'll see you in six weeks,” you said, waving him off. 

“What for?” He asked, voice confused but bright. He sounded almost hopeful. 

“For your next haircut, Spencer.” 

He smiled and waved back as he walked back into the dark and disappeared down the street. 

No one could ever accuse Spencer Reid of being forgetful, and six weeks later, he was back in your chair. 

Except he didn't arrive at 11pm this time, but instead 11am. 

The other customers and stylists gawked at the man as he walked in, and you thanked the gods that your seat was free as he met your eyes. 

“Hi.” 

“Spencer! You're back.” 

He nodded shyly, head hanging a little as he ignored the many looks from the women in the room and the eruption of whispers and loud glances in his direction. 

“It's been six weeks. You said that's when I'd need another haircut.” 

You laughed a little as you pulled the robe around him. 

“You know, I say that every time, but most people ignore me. I love a man who can follow directions.” 

The eruption of red on his cheeks left you feeling suddenly tongue tied, and you carefully redirected the conversation back to the task at hand. 

“Same again, Doc?” You asked, readying your spray bottle and supplies. 

“Actually, could we, ah, go shorter this time?” Hesmiled sheepishly and watched as you ran your fingers through his tangled hair. 

“My boss, last time, said I looked like I joined a boyband, so…” 

“Your boss at the hospital?” You asked, clinging to every detail you could get from him. 

“The hospital?” 

“You said you were a Doctor, do you work in a lab instead or-”

“Oh. No, I work at the FBI. I'm not a medical doctor, I have a PhD. I have three, Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics.” 

You whistled. “Impressive. You can't be older than 30.” 

“I'm 29.” He said, smiling at you in the mirror, and you smiled back, hands still running through his hair. 

“So, no boy band haircuts, okay. For what it's worth, though, you look totally hot.” 

The words cut the conversation short, and you tried your best to take the words back as you went off to the sides to grab your sheers. 

Half an hour later, and you could swear that half the salon had given up pretending to be doing their jobs and were just awkwardly ogling the man. If the shorter “boyband” hair was good, the undercut you'd done for him was even better. 

You turned him around to get a closer look, using the excuse of making sure his hair was symmetrical enough to stare at him some more as you got closer to finishing. 

“Okay,” you said with a sad sigh. “You're all finished, Spencer. Let's get you rung up.” 

He nodded and followed you quickly, pulling out his wallet as he paid quietly. 

“Okay. And I'll see you tomorrow,” you said, as he picked up his bags to leave. 

“Tomorrow? I thought you said it was six weeks between haircuts.” 

“It is. But it's also my day off tomorrow, so I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner. With me.” 

He blinked at you once. Then twice, and another time before smiling and looking away. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

He ran a hand through his hair and nearly walked into the door he was trying to walk through, but your heart still fluttered as you waved him out. 

[missqhughes]

CAN HE GET YOU LIKE THIS? | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x jacksgf!reader

-> contains: cheating, smut with plot , SLIGHT angst, and other sexual themes, oc’s created for tha plot, intended lowercase, use of y/n

-> IN WHICH: jack almost cant seem to control himself around another woman at the lake house; and to make it worse, in front of his girlfriend. when she cries her frustrations to her boyfriends older brother, he seems to have the perfect solution to her problems.

-> my first hockey fic! i spent so much time on it, and i’m pretty proud tbh. also, i’m so excited to post on this page, and as i always say on my other blog, hope you love it as much as i do!

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

y/n was never the jealous type.

she never needed anyone’s approval.

but god, what jack was doing was pissing her off.

for the first time, luke had brought his girlfriend april, to the lake house for the summer, and this week, y/n had the unpleasant company of aprils friend stampeding around the house for the week.

about 100% of the time, she could handle girls throwing themselves at jack at this point. she was used to it; jack was always a good boyfriend to her, and could always control himself with his endless female attention.

until today.

the july sun delivered a scorching heat down on the group as they conversed somewhere on the middle of the lake in the hughes family boat.

the typical casual conversation that y/n, jack, and his brothers had on their boat days were greatly interrupted by the ear piercing voices of april’s friends.

“jack, wanna let me drive the boat?”

“jack, the sun is too bright! can i please wear your hat?”

jack let out low chuckles at the flattery delivered to him, and y/n was doing her usual job at ignoring them.

with her dark tinted sunglasses on and her head resting on the back seat of the boat, she saw her boyfriend place his white baseball cap on one of april’s god forsaken friend.

her eyebrows furrowed; jack never fed into anything like this. the pang of anxiety lowly rested in the pit of her stomach, but she chose to ignore it.

he knew better.

“jacky, how does it look on me?”

through her dark lenses, she witnessed the ratty girl in front of her spin in front of jack, pulling the sides of her bikini up while doing so.

he made no attempt to hide his gaze on the girl in front of him, or the comment that slipped from his lips afterwards;

“looks good,” he said lowly, probably thinking that his girlfriend mere feet away from him was fast asleep from the summer heat, unaware to his tease.

the anxiety in y/n’s stomach began to surface more, a jealousy and anger she hadn’t felt in a situation like this before arising. she thought whatever of it, that she was being crazy, that she could shove this feeling down.

y/n kept her gaze straight forward, blocking out any of the chatter coming from anyone in her vicinity; her eyes locked on luke’s slow speed on the boat, conversing casually with april, unaware of the drama brewing behind them.

god, can he not drive any faster? she thought to herself, the annoyance within growing deeper and deeper.

the boat rocked along with the motion of the water beneath it, but y/n did her best to sit completely still, feeling that if she moved, the her negative emotions would swirl harder.

after a grueling 4 minute ride back to the dock, luke had secured the boat,

“everyone’s good to get off now,” he told the group, grabbing april’s hand and towel, assisting her onto the dock.

the short haired girl, the one throwing herself all over jack, the one who’s name y/n didn’t even bother to remember in their introductions, was just about to take it too far.

she stood up first, jack and y/n following behind her.

the ratty girl “dropped” her towel, allowing the perfect opportunity to bend down in front of jack,

“woops! my bad,” her voice made an embarrassing attempt to be seductive to jack, turning her head to eye him up and down.

jack let out a deep inhale, just enough to set y/n off further on her silent rage.

“all good, let me help you out.”

the girl giggled as she took jacks hand, letting it linger on his skin longer than necessary.

he paid no mind to his girlfriend behind him.

the insatiable urge to strangle the two idiots in front of y/n was barely present on her face, as she decided to take back control of the situation, and remind both of them who his significant other was.

“babe, i’m tired, do you want to come up and take a nap?”

his conversation with the short haired girl was cut with y/n’s words, he looked back at the two, contemplation in his mind, before smiling at y/n.

see? nothing to worry about-

“i uh, i think i’m gonna stay down here for a bit, don’t want to go inside yet, it’s just a really nice day y’know?”

her ears began to ring with his words, cheeks growing red as she looked over at luke and april, who shifted uncomfortably, now aware of the drama upon the dock.

“uh, yeah… yeah that’s fine.”

“i’ll be up soon, promise,” jack said as he sat down with april, luke, and her stupid friend.

y/n ignored his words, turning on her heel to walk up to the house, pace growing as soon as she was out of sight from the dock.

now that she was alone, all the feelings the thought she was suppressing were now at the forefront of her body and mind. she ran her hands through her hair, almost ready to rip it out from frustration.

y/n stormed through the house, and as she passed the living room, she was met with quinn; who was quietly reading a book with his feet kicked up on the ottoman.

before he lifted his head, his eyes went up first, gaze met with y/n’s indignant expression,

“woah, you okay, something happen on the one boat day i miss?” he said light heartedly,

“quinn, not now,”

y/n snapped at him, before slamming her bedroom door, the action echoing through the otherwise quiet house.

——————————————————————————

dinner wasn’t any better.

y/n didn’t realize how much time had gone by as she was staring at the ceiling, recounting the events of the day. jack did not keep his promise about “coming up soon” which wasn’t to the shock of y/n, considering his behavior today. he did stop in her designated room, to give her a kiss on the forehead, and to tell that dinner was ready.

and that was it.

now, she was sitting next to jack at the table, his happy chatter with his brothers, april, and company sounding like mumbles in her ears. she felt a gaze on her, hoping it was jack, but when y/n turned her head softly to confirm, he was still smiling at his continued conversation.

like nothing was wrong.

there was only one other person who wasn’t talking, and her eyesight landed right on his.

quinn.

she shifted in her seat, quickly averting their eye contact, and picked at her quarter eaten meal with her fork.

“excuse me everyone, i’m gonna go lay down,”

jack looked at y/n, giving her a half smile and no thought to her abrupt departure, before returning to his seemingly endless conversation.

y/n began to pick her plate up to take it to the sink, when quinn’s voice spoke up,

“i’ll take care of it,” the tips of his fingers pushed down lightly on the edge of her plate.

“you sure? it’s fine i don’t-”

“just go lay down.”

y/n blinked at him a few times before nodding her head, setting her plate down and shuffling to her room.

she closed the door softly this time, letting out a shaky breath as she sat on the edge of the plush bed. her head was beginning to throb, not sure if it was from lack of food or just from the complete and total anxiety jack was giving her.

——————————————————————————

y/n scrolled mindlessly on her phone, again losing the track of time with the state she was in.

1:19am.

the dryness in her throat was becoming more present as she came down from her brain fog, deciding to clear herself with a glass of water.

y/n slipped into the kitchen, only the warm dim glow from the microwave light allowing her to see. the glass cups lightly clinked together as she pulled one out, then setting it down to fill up.

the refrigerator hummed softly, barely breaking the silence through the house. then, a raspy voice spoke behind her,

“what’re you doing up?”

y/n whipped her head around, almost dropping and shattering the glass of water in her hand,

“jesus christ quinn, you scared the shit out of me!”

she set down the glass to put a hand to her chest, an attempt to slow down the spike in her heart rate.

quinn let out a small, quiet laugh, “sorry, i thought you heard me.”

“no,” she let out a huff, “i didn’t,” y/n smiled back at him gently as the beating in her chest settled.

“so, what’s wrong?”

quinn was quick to change the conversation to put her on the spot, y/n’s lips parting as she thought of her next words.

“nothing, i don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“yes you do.”

y/n scoffed, “you really have a habit of interrupting me don’t you?”

“stop avoiding the question. what’s wrong? talk to me, y/n.”

the two stared at one another, having an unspoken battle with each other,

y/n broke first.

she swallowed, knowing the words about to spill out of her mouth were going to come shaky and scattered; she didn’t want quinn, or anyone for that matter, to know the state her mind was at. y/n hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter, retelling the day to quinn.

“it was… it was jack. today. he was just letting april’s stupid fucking friend flirt with him! and-”

“alana?”

she shot him a deep scowl, “don’t interrupt me to tell me what her stupid name is!”

quinn raised his hands in defeat, “sorry, sorry, keep going,”

“he let her wear his hat, she bent over in front of him and he said nothing, and as you could tell from earlier today, he didn’t even come up to the house with me when i asked…”

her words trailed off shakily, y/n felt hot, wet tears flow down her cheeks, slightly blurring her vision, she looked down, unable to meet quinn’s gaze she felt burning into her face.

“y/n… i’m sorry. he’s a shithead for that,”

he stepped closer to her, lessening the distance between them,

“y/n.”

she hummed in response, sniffles coming from her, still refusing to look up at him,

“y/n look at me.”

y/n knew how persistent quinn was, and he definitely was not going to let her get away with not looking at him. though it felt like lifting a ton of bricks, her glossy eyes looked up to meet his.

quinn’s eyes flickered all over her face, reading her sorrow expression. he brought his hand up to meet her face, gently using his thumb to brush away any fallen tears on her tinted cheeks.

“you know, i really hate it when you cry,” he cooed softly, still wiping away the spilling tears, paying more attention to her in these mere minutes than jack had been all day.

“i’m so mad at myself, i should’ve said something, i let it all happen in front of me,” y/n said, her quiet frustrations let out only for quinn’s ears to hear.

“hey, hey, no. you shouldn’t have even been put in that position, don’t blame yourself, okay?” he placed his hands on either sides of the counter, locking her in. his voice being stern but still soft, a tough love kind of talk.

y/n’s heart beated faster as she became hyper aware of how close their bodies were, feeling the warmth radiating off of him.

she wanted to knock herself in the head for feeling this way, but her heightened distaste for jack in the moment, quinn’s messy hair combined with his beard and tired eyes made him so sinfully appealing.

“you’re right, i shouldn’t have,”

y/n felt almost awkward in this moment, especially it being her boyfriends older brother. there was no way for her to move without being even closer to him.

“god, y/n… cant believe that… if i had you… i’d never let that happen,”

quinn’s tired eyes turned lustful by the second, going up and down y/n’s body before flickering between her own eyes and lips.

“quinn,” she let out with a breath, “you cant say things like that, you know you can’t,”

y/n couldn’t help herself from matching quinn’s motion, unable to tear away from looking at his full lips.

“after the shit he pulled today, i think i’m safe to do whatever the hell i want,”

the gentle demeanor in his voice was replaced with seduction, bringing his face closer to hers, close enough for their breaths to mingle.

“say the words y/n, i wont do anything you don’t want me to do. say the words and i’ll stop.”

she was between a rock and a hard place. it’s not like jack had outright cheated in front of her, and she would feel horrible doing something like that to him. however, his actions were inexcusable, and he saw not an inch of an issue with what he was doing. and at the exact same time, quinn was ready to be all over her. hell, he’s practically admitting to wanting his little brother’s girlfriend. in this moment, he could give her anything.

fuck it.

this is what he gets, she thought to herself. it’s not like he would find out anyway. no one would.

“i want you quinn.”

the words rolled off her tongue faster than her mind let her think about the consequences, and in no time, quinn captured y/n’s lips in his, securing his hands on to her waist.

the two kissed sloppily in the kitchen, out in the open, with too much opportunity to get caught. neither of them cared.

y/n’s hands found a home in his hair, quinn emitting a low groan as she gently tugged at his waves.

she felt a heat growing between her legs, and an attempt to close them for relief was blocked by quinn pushing them back open with his hips.

y/n gasped, allowing quinn’s tongue entry, and as he explored her mouth with his, she felt him growing harder against her core, making the wetness in her shorts more difficult to ignore.

quinn panted heavily as he pulled away, still gripping at her waist, fingers hugging the bottom hem of her shirt,

“can i take this off?”

she buzzed at his words, nodding vigorously. with her consent, he raised the shirt above her body, y/n lifting her arms in assistance.

quinn wasted no time to kiss down her neck to her now exposed upper chest, sitting perfectly pretty in her bra. he sucked and nipped at the bare skin, earning quiet moans from her soft lips.

“mm—fuck quinn,” y/n threw her head back in pleasure, giving more room for quinn to litter her chest with marks. she didn’t even care if they were going to bruise tomorrow or who was going to saw. everyone else was on the back burner of her mind.

her praise only made him rougher, sucking harder into her skin, feeling himself getting more and more rowdy by the second.

his lips went up to claim hers again, tapping her thigh as a signal to wrap her legs around his waist. she listened, hooking herself around him. quinn lifted her up effortlessly, their kiss not being broken as he peeked his eyes open in a tenth of a second to see their way to his room.

with one hand tucked under y/n’s ass, he turned the knob to his bedroom door, stepping into the room before closing the door behind him with a light kick.

quinn’s legs met the edge of the bed, and he threw her down before making himself pry his lips from her’s, plump and slick from his.

“you’re still okay with his?” he asked, his thumb drawing circles on her hips.

“more than okay, please quinn. i need more.”

he nodded, taking a step back to take all of her in with his eyes.

she looked at him confused for a moment, before he talked,

“strip.”

she swallowed heavily, ready to obey his words. y/n wiggled out of her shorts, leaving her skin only covered by a black bra and panties.

“i said strip. all the way.”

her heart was about to come out of her chest, all of it was beginning to feel real, and that she was about to be naked and on display for jack’s brother.

only hearing the beating in her chest, quinn watched as y/n unhooked her bra first, tits bouncing with the action, and he thought he could cum in his pants right then and there.

y/n sat down on the bed, staring deeply into quinn’s eyes, slipping her black panties down her half parted legs, pussy wet and glistening from the moonlight shining through the window.

“fuck,” he whispered, unable to control his hand from falling to his crotch, beginning to palm himself through his shorts.

with a single hand, quinn took his shirt off, dipping his head down to kiss her naked thighs. y/n shuddered at his action, his kisses being everywhere except where she desperately needed them to be.

he hovered just above her core, “can i?”

“quinn please stop fucking asking and just do it,” y/n begged, squirming under him, desperate for his touch.

he licked a long stripe down her wet folds, y/n unable to control the guttural moan that escaped from her lips. her back arched in pleasure at the feeling of quinn’s lips sucking on her puffy clit, aching for attention.

he couldn’t stop; he was devouring her like it was his death row and she was his last meal, already addicted to the taste of her pussy on his tongue.

quinn pushed her hips down, sticking his tongue in her and his nose bumping against her clit with each motion. y/n felt knots twisting and forming in her stomach, a strong release forming, one that jack had never even came close to making her feel.

“mmph, shit quinn— gonna fucking cum, oh— my fuck,”

profanities spilled out of y/n’s mouth, but her pleasure was cut short as his dripping lips pulled away from her aching core, craving his touch.

she whined at the loss of contact, only to be met with quinn peeling off his shorts and underwear, his throbbing dick aching with desire from his tip.

“when i make you cum, i want it to be on my dick, pretty girl.”

y/n felt like she could’ve exploded right then and there, but she bit her lip, moving closer to the edge of the bed, giving quinn better access to line up with her.

he ran his dick between her wet folds a few times before inserting himself in her, the two let out gracious moans at the mutual pleasure.

quinn started slow, hips rolling back and forth, before quickening his pace to a pornographic speed.

his lips hooked onto y/n’s once again, sloppy and wet, both groaning into each others mouths with delight. in the kiss he captured both her wrists, pinning them above her head.

quinn broke the kiss to look at her with his brows furrowed, concentrated on fucking y/n senseless. her bottom lip was between her teeth, tits bouncing with the speed of his thrusts.

“fuck y/n, you feel so good on my dick, can he ever get you like this? a moaning fucked out mess? hm?”

his words barely registered in her ears, body buzzing as his dick continued to destroy her pussy.

“no, no, mm— you fuck me so much better quinn,” y/n did her best not to scream it, still aware that the other people in the house had the potential to hear them.

“gonna— cum— y/n— shit,” quinn huffed out between thrusts. she also felt the now familiar knots forming in her stomach, her release about to come.

his movements became sloppy as his release coated her walls, and at the same time, she painted his dick with her own.

they felt euphoric, quinn pulled out of her slowly, groaning as his dick came out of her.

y/n laid out on the bed panting with closed eyes, hearing the light flicker on from quinn’s connected bathroom.

she felt a wet towel meet her sensitive core, hissing at the feeling.

“sorry, just wanna clean you up first,”

y/n looked at quinn while he cleaned her with concentration, his body glistening with sweat and his messy hair slightly sticking to his forehead.

“thank you, quinn,”

y/n was breathless watching quinn go back into the bathroom, her chest still rapidly rising and falling. she felt herself grow more tired with each passing minute.

quinn came back from the bathroom with a different pair of underwear on, holding out a pair of his boxers to put on. y/n gladly accepted, slipping them up her body. she grabbed her bra from the floor, hooking it back on.

after she was partly dressed, he delivered her a sweet, soft kiss to her lips. different than any kind of kiss they had so far, this one was deep and loving; his hands gently cupping her face.

“stay with me,”

quinn’s proposition took her by surprise, thinking he was going to send her back to her room after all this, but no.

“quinn, i really shouldn’t, it’s not a good ide-”

“you and jack can figure your shit out later. as of right now, you’re mine.”

he was right and she knew it. he claimed her, and there was definitely going to be some kind of consequence for this. either way y/n and jack were going to have to figure their shit out, but to her, that was an issue for the morning.

“okay, i’ll stay.”

quinn smiled at her, planting a kiss on her forehead. he peeled away at his thick blue comforter, leaving space for the both of them to crawl inside. y/n felt herself more comfortable falling asleep with quinn than she did with jack, whatever that meant. but she didn’t care. his body was tangled with hers, falling asleep to the soft beat of his heart.

pt. 2

——————————————————————————

© missqhughes

xoxo, kaia

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jamil Viper - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

When Summoned: Well, of course I would go all out on taking care of my appearance. Particularly on my birthday, when I'm to be the man of the hour.

Summon Line: I should take time to relax, at least on my birthday of all days, huh... True, I guess it might not be terrible to have a breather in my room sometimes.

Groooovy!!: I think I could afford to switch up my makeup application every once in a while. ...Maybe just for my birthday, at least.

Home: I'll just rest a bit.

Swap Looks: I should tend to my hair.

Home Idle 1: Won't I ever cut my hair short? Well, this length may require extra care, but I think I'll keep it this way for a while. I actually rather like it.

Home Idle 2: I received a birthday card from Jade. He could have just handed it to me directly, so why did he bother posting it in the mail...?

Home Idle 3: This stays between us, but... Whenever my birthday draws near, I get a little excited. Pretty childish of me, isn't it?

Home Idle - Login: In my private time, I have many things I both want to do and should do. I'd like to make the most of that time.

Home Idle - Groovy: Ortho mentioned he noticed that my makeup was different from usual. I'm not saying he's wrong, but... It's a little embarrassing to have it pointed out right to my face.

Home Tap 1: I like to wear oversized and comfortable clothes. Not only is it perfectly loose-fitting, but it's also easy to move around in.

Home Tap 2: Rook-senpai really does just call anything beautiful, doesn't he? He said as much when I ran into him by chance while wearing this outfit, how absurd.

Home Tap 3: What's my roommate like? Well, he's not a pain, or anything. He's the kind of guy that doesn't care at all if I start doing stretches in the middle of the night.

Home Tap 4: I felt a quick shiver when Malleus-senpai suddenly hailed me. There's no way I would have ever expected that he'd just want to wish me a happy birthday.

Home Tap 5: Whenever I pick out new outfits, I always make sure to try them on first. Of course I make sure to look at the design and material type, but I also like to put an emphasis on comfortability.

Home Tap - Groovy: You want to know what hair care products I'd recommend? ...I don't mind, but don't go telling other people. I'd hate for it to be even harder to find in stock.

Duo: [JAMIL]: I'm expecting a good gift from you, Ortho. [ORTHO]: I think you'll definitely like it, Jamil-san!

Birthday Login Message: So, you remembered my birthday, huh. Thanks. ...Hm? There's something on my head? Oh, it must be some of the confetti from the party poppers. Just a moment ago, Ace and Floyd set some off. I already had my suspicions about what was to come when I saw them trying to lurk in the shadows, but I pretended to be surprised for them. Why...? Well, if I don't give them the right reaction, who knows what'll happen next, right? Even so, they still griped about my lack of reaction. Geez, what do they want from me?

Requested by @farfalla049.

[bunnys-kisses]

hii, could I order a croissant, a mince pie, and an iced tea served by toto? (maybe with brown or horner reader:)

thank you, honey🤍

bakery menu

welcome to the bakery! how can i take your order? want to submit your own order, then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you!! as for this lovely anon, i changed one thing. that it wasn't an accidental launching of the relationship. but rather toto did it on purpose! (oops), i hope you love the fic

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + mince pit ("i'm not jealous) + iced tea (accidental launching relationship) served by toto wolff (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/50s), size difference, zac brown!reader, launching relationships, roadside sex, car sex, cow girl position

toto sipped his drink and watched you from a short distance. the drink was sour in his mouth as he watched you talk to your father. you had always been a daddy's girl. he knew first hand how that manifested itself.

your daddy issues were so painfully clear cut, he didn't know why you would question how you ended up with them. your father was zak brown and yet you went home with toto wolff. if you were all royalty, this would count as treason and your two nations would go to war.

but this was formula one, and while it was different. toto still shouldn't have been bedding you for several months now. even now as he watched you chat with your father over drinks, toto wanted to undress you and kiss every inch of soft skin.

your father be damned.

it was after a night of drinking and toto was more than happy to take your keys away and drive you home himself. you could grab your car tomorrow, tonight toto needed to make sure that you were okay.

"thanks for doing this, toto." zak said as he shook the other man's hand.

toto nodded, he would play the shining knight. at least until he got you into his flat for the night. you looked nicer in toto's bed than you ever did your own. too many stuffed animals all over yours. he said to your father, "it's not a big deal, zak. it's better someone drive her than she drive herself."

zak chuckled, "i remember drinking that much at her age. it would kill me now." he laughed, "i bet you remember those times!" sometimes toto was reminded that he was your father's age almost to the t.

but as you once said to him, 'sucking your cock is cheaper than therapy.' as you filed your pretty nails that he would later pay to get painted.

you were soon at your father's side and laughing, "who's taking me home?" then looked to toto then your father, "he's taking me home?"

zak chuckled and looked at you, "yes. you'll be nice to mister wolff, right? no getting sick in his car?"

you nodded dumbly and smiled at toto once more, the smile was knowing and it made toto hot all over. you said to your father, "of course! thank you daddy, i'll text you when i get home!" then kissed your father on the cheek.

little did zak brown know. little did he know.

"you're jealous. you're jealous!" you said in a sing-song tone to toto once you were out of the venue, "you're jealous of my dad!" you giggled and rested against him as he brought you to his expensive car.

"i'm not jealous" he replied as he opened the car doors and got you inside. even buckled you in and you reached for him cutely to place kisses all over his face. if freud were alive, he'd be gawking at this moment. toto closed your door and then got into the car on the driver's side.

before his door was closed, your hands were all over his face. feeling the masculine nature of his features. those dark eyes, that strong jaw, that nose of his. it all excited you as you tried to get your hands all over him. you were like an insatiable puppy who demanded kisses.

he held onto the back of your hair to keep some distance between the two of you. he looked at your lips and sighed, "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you pouted a little, "my daddy has no idea."

"maybe he should find out at some point." all toto knew was that if his phone went missing, there was a folder with so many photos of you in various states of undress and redress. from your pretty pussy on display to a heavy skiing jacket when you went on vacation with some 'friends' (it was toto). he knew if he ever sold them, he could make a healthy dollar. but he'd never do that. he had a hard enough time with you wearing a two-piece swimsuit around your friends.

soon toto was driving and his hand was on your thigh. slowly he inched up that skirt until his long fingers were in between your thighs, just over the waistband of the poor excuse you called panties. a lacy white number that toto bought for you.

"you wore them."

"only for you."

"did anyone else see them?"

you looked at toto with the cutest expression that fell naturally on your face. you smiled at him, still a little drunk, "of course, daddy. only the best for you."

the road you were on was quiet and toto had no choice but to pull over. he couldn't very well send you back to your cute little apartment without a pussy full of his cum. not when you were giving him such delicate looks. you were already heated and toto wanted you between his teeth.

with the car lights off, you could only maneuver yourself in the dark as toto leaned back the driver's seat to let you onto his lap. he undid his belt and his cock out of his slacks. your panties were over the back of the passenger's seat for safe keeping (they'd be lost).

in the dark you managed to find his cock and sink yourself down on it. your eyes went wide for a moment from the stretch of his cock settling inside of you. you shuddered and your inebriated mind made everything feel heightened.

"you're going to be a good girl for daddy?" he asked. he wanted to show you off to the world. show zak brown that he didn't have that tight of a grip on you. that you were a woman and you were dating a man. and there was nothing that fucker could do.

you might be brown's daughter but you were toto's baby girl. once again, daddy issues sprouted their ugly heads into the back of your mind as you rode the older man. he pushed the skirt of your dress up and kissed at your neck.

the car rocked a little bit from your movements and you panted heavily. the windows fogged up on the quiet back road. toto's hands switched from your breasts to your hips then back to your breasts when he groped them with those paws he called hands. they were huge, it was intimidating. you still didn't know how those digits managed to fit into your poor pussy.

he licked his lips as your held onto his hair, he then pressed kisses up against your heated skin. he felt the heat in his gut as he pressed kisses at your skin. his hands were eventually full of the softness of your hips as he guided your faster up and down his cock.

you panted heavily before you pulled his hair to get him to face you where you made out with him once more. you whimpered between kisses a simple, 'daddy.' and it made toto hot all over. your back arched as you really worked at his length.

you felt the sweat cause your dress to stick to your back and you make up to run a little around the edges. toto thought you looked beautiful, like a debauched little princess. all because of him. wasn't that something? that zak brown's daughter was riding toto without a car, in a semi public space. anyone could drive by and snap a photo. wouldn't that make headlines.

he held onto you tighter and started to move you faster on top of him. your noises were loud as the car rocked to your movements. and toto felt himself get so close to orgasm.

but you were first. you held onto your lover tightly and whimpered, "daddy" as you felt yourself climax. your back arched with your head almost hitting the roof of the car.

but toto kept you close to him. there was nothing that could hurt that (empty) little head of yours. not while toto wolff was still breathing. you felt so good against him even when you went a little limp against him. but he continued to work your hips against him, he buried his cock in you as deep as it would go.

your noises soon turned pathetic and the car reeked of sex. eventually toto finished inside of you with one last heavy thrust. he spilled himself into you. not that you cared, sometimes toto wondered if you enjoyed the risk of him finishing inside of you. that maybe you'd be mostly wolff dna if he came into you enough times. and toto was happy to comply because that meant you'd eventually have toto's baby at your hip. but that was for later. right now he had to get you alert enough to get into the passenger seat so he can get you home.

"come on. pull down that dress a little and get yourself seated."

-

you woke up the next morning in your bed to a flurry of messages, a full voice mail inbox and even fifteen emails from various people within your network. through bleary, sleepy eyes you basically made out one thing. check social media.

upon opening the app, any tiredness was zapped from your body and you felt hyper away. your eyes went wide when you saw toto's page, the newest photo wasn't of the cars or the tracks or anything. it was you in his apartment in monaco in one of his shirts (with no bra given that you could see your nipples through the fabric) looking not at the camera but at the book on the history of mercedes that he kept on the coffee table. you knew the exact moment that was taken... and now the rest of the world wanted to know every detail about your little love affair with toto.

especially your father, who was calling your for the fifty-first time that morning. there was a lot of explaining to do. <3

[kingtomura]

Love Spell

Summary: He knows he’s got you hook, line and sinker by the way you bite your lip and make room for him between your legs. It’s so desperate it almost disgusts him.  You are Shigaraki's biggest fan and he wants to break you.  Cw: Tomura shigaraki x female reader, slight yandere reader, shigaraki has a hero kink, mean shigaraki, degradation, choking, spit kink, dumbification, pro hero reader, traitor hero reader, controlling/possessive shigaraki, dacryphillia, intercrural, unhealthy relationships, begging, praise, mdni wc: 3.3k | crossposted to ao3

You feel dirty. 

You feel dirty, cold and disgusting every time you do this, but you just couldn’t stop. 

You can’t remember when it started or who made the first move on who, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here now, under him as he leers over you, grin wild and wicked knowing he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“What’s going on in there, hero?” Shigaraki questions you, his body towering over you as his legs straddle your thighs. 

You know better than to lie to him. 

“N-nothing.” You meekly reply hoping he’ll be satisfied with your answer and move on. 

He brings a hand down, holding your cheeks together and you wish he would lean down, get closer, give you more. “That’s right,” his voice is low and filled with amusement, “nothing going on in that dumb little brain of yours.”

This time you whimper, thighs pressing together to hide your arousal. It would only be dragged out more if he knew how much his words turned you on. 

“Stupid little hero. What are you here for?”

“Y-you.” You squeeze through pressed cheeks. 

The answer does not satisfy him this time. “What about me?”

“Your cock. I came here for your coc— ah!” Your words are cut short as he flips you over, cheeks mushing into his dark pillow. 

Shigaraki wastes no time disintegrating your shorts and dragging your underwear down playfully slow. 

It drives you mad. 

“No! No— Shigaraki, I-I want to see your face, please!” You beg and it would be pathetic to your own ears if you weren’t so horny. 

The low rumble of his chuckle has arousal pooling in your belly and you can almost feel the slick sliding down your cunt. 

“You want to see my face?” He mimics and you nod as best you could with your face pressed down. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And you’re back on your back, sigh of relief falling from your lips as you meet Shigaraki’s red gaze. 

He leans forward and you feel your heart rate rise, his hair brushing your cheek as he whispers in your ear, “but don’t think this means I’ll go soft on you, hero.”

You nod, uncaring and wanting nothing but him — too smitten by his proximity to really care how he treats you. 

His smile should insight fear, make you curl away and run, but it only spurs on the warm feeling in your chest even more. 

He knows he’s got you hook, line and sinker by the way you bite your lip and make room for him between your legs. 

It’s so desperate it almost disgusts him. 

You are Shigaraki's biggest fan and he wants to break you. 

A hero is still a hero, traitor or not. But there’s nothing in the rules against using the prettiest one he’s ever seen for his own benefit. Especially when she becomes such a loyal puppy for him in his bed. 

He pulls down his own pants, cock red and leaking at the ordeal and the sight of it makes you reach forward. You want to take him into your hand and take care of him yourself but he stops you, slapping your hand away in disgust. 

“Don’t touch me.” He hisses, eyes filled with vitriol and anger. You nod and lean back, waiting eagerly for him to touch you. 

It’s never the other way around — Shigaraki has made that clear more than once. 

He lazily drags a finger between your folds, the touch making your hips jump forward in surprise. You’re so wet the slide is easy. 

“Whatcha’ so wet for, slut?” He questions slowly pressing his index finger into your sopping cunt, forcing a moan from your throat. His finger reaches deep and it has you gasping, fighting with everything you could to refrain from fucking yourself on it. 

You knew better. If you tried to take more than he offered, he would take it away. 

So it’s to your delight when Shigaraki takes pity on you and pushes a second digit in, dropping the rest of his body down to lap at the sensitive area of your neck. 

You moan unabashedly, glee of the stretch making you dizzy, but it doesn’t end there.

Shigaraki takes his time, gliding his fingers in and out of your cunt, searching diligently for that sweet spot inside that drove you mad. He presses deeper, pulling a gasp from you as he finds exactly what he’s looking for, abusing the spongy spot as he sucks dark bruises into the column of your neck. 

The push and pull is intoxicating and you feel the warmth in your abdomen spread as the feelings become more and more intense. Shigaraki nips at your neck, the sharp pain pulling your focus back to his ministrations and you chance tangling your fingers in his ashen locks. 

He allows it, you can even feel the small grin sneaking onto his face and you’re sure you’ve done the right thing. 

You should have known better. 

Tomura takes your distraction in stride, pressing a thumb to your sensitive clit and massaging it along with his other movements. The pressure is so intense you almost fall apart then and there.

Almost.

Shigaraki has shown you time and time again that nothing is ever easy. He wouldn’t let you cum so soon — and he doesn’t. No, he takes his fingers away from you and sits back, taking in the sight of your ruined orgasm. 

“You didn’t think I'd let you go that easy, did you?” His grin is wicked as you writhe below him, forcing yourself not to reach down and finish the job on your own. 

“N-no.” Your response is meek, but he enjoys it. Shigaraki leans down, face so close and you feel lost in his carmine eyes — you can’t help yourself when it happens. 

You lean forward to kiss him, feeling captivated by his gaze and Tomura swiftly turns his head, avoiding your lips and leaving you high and dry.

He scoffs, pulling away once more to give you a halfhearted glare. “No, thanks, hero.”

Begging was on the tip of your tongue, only stopped by Shigaraki hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder, putting your cunt on full display for his eyes only. 

The chill of the room made you shiver, but you didn’t dare shy away from him. 

“Such a pretty cunt, such a pretty girl. Too bad you’re a dumb little hero.” His hand is uncharacteristically gentle as he rubs your smooth thigh. 

His words pull a whine from your throat, eagerness getting the better of you as you stir, ready for anything else he would give you. 

Shigaraki grabs your other leg, throwing it over his shoulder as well while his cock rests on your pelvis.

It’s thick and heavy on your abdomen, already leaking precum onto your stomach and near your navel. You feel the heat pool between your legs at the thought of his cock bruising your insides with its girth. The thought is electrifying and you squirm under his touch.

Shigaraki seems to finally take some pity on you as he starts to thrust, pressing your thighs together. They are soft and plush under his grip and he moans at the friction. 

You can’t beg him, if he knows you want him inside he’ll just continue to fuck your thighs, cumming all over your stomach while he lectures you about patience — leaving you horny and unsatisfied.

So you wait, allowing him to fuck your thighs while you watch his eyes close and sparse brows furrow at the sensation. 

He gets lost in the feeling and looks down at you, his ruby red gaze pulling you into a trace. “You want me to cum like this?” He asks through thrusts. 

You don’t, but you know he just might if you tell him that. 

“Y-yes. Whatever you want.” You hope he believes you. 

Shigaraki’s lids lowered, the unamusement plain on his face and you know you’ve fucked up. 

“Liar.” He spits and you whimper. “Fine, I’ll give it to you, just stop looking at me with those eyes.”

He spreads your legs once more and kneads the sensitive parts of your inner thighs. It makes you cry out. 

“Shut up,” he spits, sneer on his mouth as he straightens up, sliding his cock between your wet folds and pumping it with your slick. “Before I really give you something to cry about.”

You worry your lip, tired of the game and downright sick of the waiting. 

“You know what,” he ponders as he lines the thick head of his cock with with your entrance, “I just might.” 

His smile is wicked as he gives you no time to mull over his words, instead choosing to fill you completely and suddenly, the ache of the stretch makes you cry out, eyes pressed shut at the intrusion. 

“What?” he questions, wasting no time setting a heavy pace, hips pulling back only to snap forward, shoving his cock further into your soft walls. “Thought you wanted it, hero?”

You reach a hand back, gripping the pillow beside your head as you try to hold on to your tears. The throb of the stretch was nothing compared to the rough rhythm the villain set. You couldn’t hold your cries in if you tried, but you knew Shigaraki would only try to make them louder. 

“Yeah, that's it,” he murmurs, steady pace rocking you against the bed with a force that slowly drives you up towards his headboard, “cry for me.”  

Tomura’s red gaze is locked on yours as he drags his hand up your body and to your breast, cupping them with a gentle squeeze. You moan out at the action and gasp as he tweaks a perky nipple between his forefinger and thumb. 

He slowly moves his hand up further, reaching the column of your neck as he failed to hide his grin. 

His hand is large as it wraps around your neck, four fingers down and one dangerously close. It was close enough to make you sweat. It was a threat. Don’t move too much or I’ll slip, he would tell you. It scared you to your core but god it turned you on, too. 

You gasp at the feeling, fear furthering your dizzy pleasure.

“Open your mouth.” Shigaraki commands, and you oblige — eager to please. “Stick your tongue out.” You do, causing him to chuckle. 

“You look fucking stupid.” He leans over sticking his own tongue out and you watch as the slick clear spit drips from his tongue down into your mouth.  

“Swallow it.” His words are sharp and you do as you are told, hoping that maybe he would give you a reward, but he doesn’t — you receive only a dark laugh in return. “Nasty bitch.” 

His words are filled with vitriol, but you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you. Shigaraki closes his eyes, pounding into you as his fingers press onto your neck. 

The pressure makes you gasp, vision going blurry. 

Shigaraki can’t help it, he can’t help the way your pretty cries fizzle out when he presses too tightly or holds on for a little too long. Deep down, he feels like you deserve it. It's his own special way of knocking you down a peg — of knocking all heroes down in more ways than one. 

You can tell he is getting lost in it by the way his rhythm is smooth and he has the perfect amount of pressure on your neck that makes your brain fuzzy and makes you see stars. 

But what he doesn’t know is that he’s driving into you so good and it’s making your eyes roll back with the way the head of his cock brushes against your sensitive spot inside. It doesn’t help that he's only picked up the pace, mistaking your silent cries for overstimulation. 

He’s hitting it over and over again, each brush sending jolts of pleasure up your spine and try as you may but you just can’t keep holding on. 

Tears build in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you realize you won't last much longer. The pressure inside of you was getting tighter and tighter as your thighs began to squeeze around his waist. 

You’re close.

So close and you can’t stop it when it happens — your brows furrow as your thighs tense at the sensation.

You’re about to cum and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

You can’t even make a sound because Shigaraki is squeezing your throat again and that’s all it takes. It pushes you over, back arching as waves of pleasure shoot through your body. 

The feeling is so good and you can't stop the tears from escaping now, body in a state of extended euphoria as your lungs struggle to inhale more air into them. 

It's an accident, an honest accident that you couldn’t have stopped if you tried, but you know the man above you would never see it that way. 

“Did you— did you just cum on my cock?” You can see the anger through the lust in his eyes as he slows his pace down to a much more shallow thrust. It makes you shiver. 

“Yes! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Shigaraki—“

“God, you’re such a slut.” He huffs, like this ordeal was no more than a mere inconvenience instead of a mind numbing orgasm. 

You feel relieved, fully believing he would not punish you for something you couldn’t control.

You’re wrong. 

In an instant, Shigaraki pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach and caging you beneath him. 

“You feel so needy, right?” he questions, pulling a whine from your throat, “Needy girls just want to cum don’t they? You don’t need to see my face.”

At this, you feel the thick press of two fingers sinking into your cunt, the slick from your orgasm making them slide in with ease as the smooth feeling of Shigaraki’s digits bring tears to your eyes. 

“I do, Shigaraki, please—” you start, ready to beg for his forgiveness. You would do anything to get him to fuck you within an inch of your life again, “A-Ah—!”

He wastes no time in continuing his attack on your sensitive walls, pulling a cry from your throat as you writhe from the overstimulation. You've already cum once and the added pressure of his fingers pinpointing your sweet spot is only driving you closer and closer to another one. 

Your mind feels muddled as you have no choice but to lay there and take the pace Shigaraki has set with his fingers, the rising pleasure making your toes curl as even more tears fall from your eyes and onto his dark pillow. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” he murmurs, loving the submission you’ve given him. 

Shigaraki presses down on your back, pinky carefully raised as he his other hand goes in and out, pace ruthlessly steady as he pulls you towards another climax. 

Overstimulated and crying, you are only along for the ride as Shigaraki forces another orgasm from your already wracked body, the slick juices coating his fingers and feeding the fuel to his fire. 

“Oh, fuck.” he breathes, riding out your climax as you cry into his pillow, it feels electric as he carries you through it. 

You can’t help the next words that leave your lips, too intoxicated by the ongoing pleasure given to you by the man above. 

“I’m sorry, Tomura!” you blubber, tears blinding your vision as you gasp for air. You're drooling on the pillow and ruining his sheets but you can't stop — it just feels too good. “I love you!”

Tomura is behind you, caging you on the bed, his warm tongue licking the tears from your cheeks. “You love me? Well, isn't that cute.” 

He doesn’t say it back, he never says it back but you tell him anyway. What else could this overwhelming need for him be called?

He doesn’t give you a second to breathe as he flips you back over and slides back in — picking back up on his aggressive pace while you fight to stay coherent. 

He’s fucking you so hard and so deep you barely register the crown of your head knocking against the headboard from his thrusts. 

“The pretty, dumb little hero is in love with the villain, hm?”

You’re openly crying, the tears flowing freely as you writhe from overstimulation. 

“But it’s okay. I’ll guide you — I’ll help you.” He rants on, thrusts only getting rougher. “I’ll show you how much the heroes don’t care about you — I’ll educate you. Teach you a lesson.” 

You’re whining, keening high and needy as you feel your next orgasm approaching. 

“You want that? Want me to fuck you stupid and bring you to my side?”

You nod, desperately chasing your high again. 

Shigaraki is amused. “Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just get you pregnant and leave you. Tell your little hero friends you got knocked up by a villain, hm?” He’s close to your ear, his hair tickles as it fans over your cheek.

You didn't care what he asked of you at this point, you were inches away from your third peak of the night and you would agree to walk with him into hell if it meant he would make you see those stars again. 

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself, having reached a conclusion, “I think you’ll make a good example.”

You feel caught in a trance as Shigaraki continues his pace, eyes locked on yours as his mischievous grin widens. He loves to see you broken and needy. But you knew, deep down, he would never stop calling you to his bed, no matter how many times he’s threatened you. 

His eyes close, getting lost in the pleasure as his strokes begin to stutter and become uneven.

“Gonna cum — where do you want it?” His sparse brows furrowed as he pistons into you. 

“Inside, inside!” You beg and it’s a mistake. 

Tomura would never give you what you want. 

He pulls out at the last second, pumping his cock and sighing in relief as he spurts rope after rope of milky white right onto your cunt. A few of the solid streaks hit your clit and make you jolt from its pressure.

You should have known he wouldn’t listen to your pleas.. 

He leaves you high and dry, cunt pulsing around nothing as you cum for the third time tonight. It would have upset you more if he hadn’t wrecked you so thoroughly beforehand. 

Shigaraki watches as you come down from your high, eyes glossy as the tears on your cheeks begin to dry. You couldn’t move if you wanted to and you’re thankful he hasn’t kicked you out yet.

No, he does something that shocks even you from your blissed out stupor. 

Shigaraki leans down and captures your lips in a deep, chaste kiss. One that goes no further than a press of the lips but sends your heart racing. 

He pulls back only a sliver and then you see it. 

It's only a flash, and then it's gone again. 

You notice the way his eyes soften ever-so-slightly as he pulls away further.

Lust, want, longing. 

Shigaraki can lie to himself as much as he wants to, but you know the truth.

Love is not the opposite of hate and there is such a thin line between the two.

Tomura Shigaraki is not immune to raw emotion, no matter how much he claims to be.

So you lie there, catching your breath and knowing he would make you leave soon, but knowing he would call you back all the same. 

But it's okay — you would keep chipping away at his resolve in the meantime. 

You know that it’s only a matter of time until he cracks.

[streetlamp-amber]

blanket fort for the soul

dick grayson x batmom!reader

word count: 2.2k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: mention of death, family fluff <3 NOTES: dick grayson my little baby i love you so so much you deserve endless happiness and to be protected from all evil

You were just coming back from your lunch break with two of your coworkers when you received a call from Gotham Academy asking you to come pick up Dick as soon as possible. It didn’t take more than a minute after the call ended for you to inform your boss you were cutting your day of work short today, to grab your black trench coat and bag and to sit behind the wheel of your car, on your way to the private school.

Dick Grayson had entered your lives a month and a half ago, after Bruce took you on a date to Haley’s Circus where the young boy’s parents died tragically in front of your eyes. When you were informed that their child didn't have any family to care for him and would end up in the foster system, you didn't even have to try to convince your husband to begin the process to become his foster parents. It had been two weeks since Dick started living with you in the manor and though he was slowly warming up to Bruce, Alfred and you, he was still plagued with nightmares and a deep sadness about the loss of his family.

“What happened?” You asked the receptionist in a hurry once you arrived at the school. You didn't need to introduce yourself or mention to the woman behind the desk that you were Dick’s ward, perks of being married to Bruce Wayne.

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne!” The headmaster, a bald fifty-something white man with round glasses that you should probably try to remember his name, exclaimed as he appeared in the doorway leading to his office. “Please, follow me.”

You walked around the receptionist’s desk and entered the headmaster’s office, where a small boy with dark hair hung his head low. You could sense the sadness emanating from him the second you stepped in the room. You ignored the principal’s invitation to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk to instead crouch down in front of Dick.

“Dick, sweetie, are you okay?” You asked him worriedly. You rested your hands on his knees and lowered your head to try to catch his eyes.

The young boy shook his head ‘no’ before lunging onto you, wrapping his thin arms around your neck as he wept on your shoulder. You were surprised at first, Dick wasn’t comfortable enough with you and Bruce to do more than holding your hands when outside of the house, but you recovered from the shock in less than a second.

“Oh, bubs,” you whispered in a sigh, hugging him close to you and rubbing your right hand up and down his back in a comforting way as sobs shook his small body.

“He’s been like this since the beginning of the students’ lunch break,” the headmaster sympathetically informed you. “The lunch supervisors tried to comfort him but it was to no avail, so we called you.”

You turned your head to face the older man, noticing at the same time the plaque on his desk that read ‘Principal Richardson’. “You did the right thing,” you told him.

“Given the circumstances, it is more than alright if Mr. Grayson wants to go home for the afternoon,” Mr. Richardson offered.

“Do you want to go back to the manor?” You whispered the question in Dick’s ear and he nodded his head ‘yes’.

You rose up from your crouching position, Dick still hanging onto you tight like you were his lifeboat. Thank God he was a little frail since his parents’ death or you wouldn’t be able to carry the eight year old in your arms right now.

“Thank you, Mr. Richardson,” you thanked the principal and he accompanied you out of the school where one of the lunch supervisors waited at the door with Dick’s school bag and lunchbox.

You sat Dick down in his booster car seat – he was still a little too small to sit without one – and put his bags in the seat next to him before closing the door behind you.

“Please send our salutations to Mr. Wayne,” the principal told you and you shyly smiled, nodding your head one time as you sat down in the driver’s seat.

The ride back to the manor was quiet except for Dick’s sniffles as he continued crying. It broke your heart that you couldn’t just take all of his pain away. Both you and Bruce had lost your parents when you were kids, you understood the grief Dick was in just like you knew that only time will heal him.

Once you arrived home, Alfred came down the stairs to grab your bags while you carried Dick, who was back to latching onto you like a koala, in the house. You kicked off your high heels after walking through the front door and went straight to Dick’s room on the second floor.

“Let’s get you out of that uniform, how’s that sound bubs?” You softly asked him once in his bedroom.

“Okay,” Dick murmured, letting go of your neck to rub the tears away from his eyes and his cheeks.

You sat him down on his bed and turned to his drawer to pull out a pair of pyjamas. You then helped him change his clothes and once he was ready, with Zitka his elephant plushie tucked under his arm, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of his room.

“Can we make hot cocoa, please?” He looked up at you with his big blue eyes, the colour eerily the same as Bruce’s, and you simply couldn’t say no to them. Not before, not now and definitely not ever.

“Of course, bubs,” you said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

You both made your way to the kitchen, where Alfred was doing an inventory of the dry food in the cupboards.

“Mrs. Y/N, Master Dick, can I help you with something?” He politely asked you.

“Pretend like we’re not here Alfred,” you told the butler as you helped Dick sit on the kitchen island. “We’re making hot cocoa. Do you want some?”

“You know I would never refuse a cup of your famous hot cocoa, Mrs. Y/N,” Alfred lightheartedly said and the two of you broke down in small chuckles.

“Should we also leave some for Bruce when he gets home?” You asked Dick who was now eye levelled with you from where he was perched on the kitchen island.

The little boy nodded his head ‘yes’ and you set up everything you needed to make the warm beverage, along with four coffee mugs. Dick helped you and in a matter of ten minutes, your drinks were ready.

“Come with me,” you whispered to Dick as you helped him get down from the kitchen island counter. “I have an idea of how to pass time while we wait for the hot cocoa to cool down a little.”

Dick held your hand as you made your way to the living room with the television and the comfy couches (because of course Wayne Manor had more than one living room, including ones that were more formal for the balls and galas you hosted).

“You wanna know what my brother and I used to do when one of us was feeling down?” You looked down at the small boy. He nodded his head for you to continue. “We built the biggest blanket forts that could ever be built. But I think with all the materials we have here, we can build an even bigger one. Are you in?”

You were slowly succeeding at making Dick feel better after the little episode at lunch. Grief comes and goes in waves, and his loss was still very recent. You just wanted to be there for him when the pain hits him.

Dick nodded his head, a little more excitedly this time, and the two of you set off to start building a giant blanket fort using the couch mattresses, throw pillows and blankets stored in the room. You were hanging a blanket that would be the roof while Dick held up the mattresses when Alfred brought your cups of hot cocoa to the living room, the drinks now topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. You thanked the butler and he smiled at you before he went back to the kitchen to complete his inventory, sipping his beverage along the way.

“Are you comfortable in there?” You asked Dick after a moment from the entrance of the blanket fort. He had been in charge of placing the pillows and blankets inside while you made sure the structure was stable.

“Mhm,” he positively hummed in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you our cups of hot cocoa then I’m gonna come in with the laptop and we can watch whatever you want,” you told him.

“Okay,” Dick said, his mood lighter.

Once the two of you were settled in the fort with your mugs, you opened the living room laptop (because of course you and Bruce had more than two laptops) and put it down between the two of you.

“So, what are we watching?” You looked at the dark haired boy to your right, waiting for his answer.

He shrugged his shoulders while drinking more of your hot cocoa. Yeah, he was gonna be a ball full of energy until way past his bedtime, but he deserved something fun and comforting. If anything, Bruce could train with him to tire him out once he was back home from work.

“Remember those songs we were listening to on the drive back from Bruce’s office last week?” You tried to jog his memory up to when you blasted Abba’s greatest hits after his first visit to Wayne Tower. You kept stealing glances in the rear view mirror the whole ride, smiling every time you saw Dick bopping his head along to the music.

The little boy nodded his head.

“Well, they made a movie where the characters are on a Greek island and sing the songs the whole time. Wanna watch that?”

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

You grabbed the laptop and put it in your lap as you went on Netflix and searched for Mamma Mia!. Dick took the opportunity to scoot closer to you, his small body curling around your torso, and you smiled at the fact that he was more trusting and comfortable with you.

When Bruce arrived back home, he came to a stop in front of the living room with the television in it that he was only planning on passing by while he made his way towards the staircase to get to your shared bedroom. The room was disordered and more loud than it usually was at this time of the day, which is what got his attention away from his cellphone. He loosened his tie, feeling more relaxed now that his day of work as ‘Bruce Wayne, CEO’ was over, and approached the blanket fort in the middle of the room.

“What is going on in here?” He crouched down and peaked his head inside the fort.

“So when you’re near me darling, can’t you hear me? S.O.S.,” you sang instead of answering him, index finger pointing in your husband’s direction.

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “You roped him into watching Mamma Mia?” He asked with a hint of a smile.

“I didn’t rope him in,” you scoffed over Pierce Brosnan’s horrible singing. “I suggested it and Dick agreed to watch it,” you sweetly grinned at Bruce.

Dick, who was still curled against you, one arm looped with yours while the other held tight onto his elephant plushie, nodded his head to back up your claim.

Bruce then noticed the two now empty mugs, clear traces of hot cocoa on them. “Did you make hot cocoa?” He perked up, now fully smiling.

“You got this little man to thank,” you pointed to Dick. “We made a cup for you, just heat it in the microwave then you can join us.”

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce said and jogged to the kitchen where a cup of your famous hot cocoa was indeed waiting for him. He was back in the living room two minutes later, shoes and blazer off, top buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, ready to relax with his family.

He handed you his cup of hot cocoa for you to hold while he made his way in the blanket fort and settled on your left since the laptop was still in your lap, hence putting you in the middle. Once next to you, Bruce pecked your lips to greet you and when Dick glanced up at him, the look in his eyes wondering if he would also receive some kind of greeting, your husband affectionately ruffled his dark hair before leaning over you to plant a kiss of the top of the little boy’s head.

Bruce then made himself comfortable, also cuddling onto you, and put his head on your shoulder, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he did so. You handed him his mug back and the three of you continued watching Mamma Mia!, much to your happiness.

Enveloped in the warmth of your two boys squishing you from both sides, you couldn’t fight off the smile that pulled on your lips. Laying under your blanket fort with your little family, it was moments like this one that made everything else worth it.

[hildergard]

just thinking about aemond x lowborn!reader (I found myself in love with that trope) he helps her by giving her food, money, clothes, and stuff. but the reader is a younger daughter or lives in a toxic environment and everything is monopolized by her family and when aemond finds out he simply sees red. i'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, but the idea is there!!!

PRECIOUS ★ AEMOND TARGARYEN

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Lowborn!Reader

TAGS | Swearing, suggestive content, dysfunctional family

WORDCOUNT | 2.7k

NOTE | Enjoy this thing I wrote in one sitting and did not edit. If you see any mistake... no you did not. There probably is⏤English is not my first language. In my mind, they are "rich" enough to buy food so I focused on gifts instead. I hope you'll like it nonetheless. I tried to keep it short this time and, for once, I think I succeeded! Thank you for requesting this great prompt <333

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Downstairs, the intoxicated patrons sang their bawdy songs and shook the walls of the inn. Their lewd rhymes travelled through the dingy floorboards and vanished against your parted lips. 

A hand went up your spine, grazed your shoulders, and stopped on your sweaty neck. 

“Where is it?”

The voice hit the air and sent shivers down your spine. That authoritative tone, those proudly exhaled consonants, those whispered vowels... His words exuded nobility and education and set your whole body ablaze. You closed your eyes for a second and imagined yourself blessed with such gift of the gab, but your sentence fell awkwardly from your bruised lips.

“What do you mean?”

The sticky sheets crumpled under your weight. You squinted to make out the silhouette of your lover. In the moonlight, his hair looked as if it had been woven from the stars. 

“Where is your necklace?" Aemond asked.

Mindlessly, your fingers hit an infinity of naked flesh. You gulped. 

“Oh... Well... I didn't want to wear a beautiful object liked that in Flea Bottom. Thieves are everywhere with the blockade–”

“I gave it to you for you to wear it," he cut you off. 

The pitch-dark night itself could not hide his discontent. 

“I know, my love," you say softly. 

He had been so happy to give it to you. The gold chain and the sapphire still sparkled in your dreams. Sometimes, at night, you would remember Aemond's delicate fingers against your neck, the refreshing coldness of the precious metal on your flesh, its weight against your throat... And then, the sun would tear you from your dreams and the only thing left around your neck would be the knot of your guilt.

“No matter," he finally said. 

Your prince's fingers descended on your chest, brushed against your nipple but did not linger, much to your regret. Aemond got out of bed and left your body cold⏤it was so easy to let yourself be consumed by dragonfire. It burned your heart oh so beautifully. 

Without a word, Aemond bent down and took a packet out of his leather bag. You looked away from his naked body, your cheeks aflame. The many nights you had spent with him, learning the map of his muscles and flesh, had done nothing for your shyness. It died in an explosion of pleasure each night but would always be reborn in the painful awareness left in the vanishing carnal bliss. 

Aemond came back and handed you the gift, one knee resting on the thin mattress. A lump twisted in your throat and rendered you speechless. With a trembling hand, you pulled the ribbon and let the fabric fall to reveal a magnificent dress. 

You closed your eyes for a moment and forced a smile onto your face.

“You shouldn't have," you said through clenched teeth. 

“You say that every time," he laughed. “And you know very well that I will not stop. You deserve to be pampered, my love."

You don't command a nobleman, let alone a Targaryen. Perhaps that was why Aemond kept ignoring your request, for it never changed. Every gift was answered with this phrase. There was no false modesty there, just the familiar, creeping guilt⏤an old enemy coming to torment you. 

“It’s beautiful.”

Your fingers brushed against the blue bodice, where golden threads wove in a fine, expensive, embroidery⏤a huge dragon slumbered in a field of flowers. 

At your words, Aemond smiled brightly and kissed your forehead. His lips left their wet imprint, which you did not wipe away. You would cherish its feeling a little longer. He moved down your cheeks and finally attacked your lips. You groaned and buried your hand in his hair before pressing your chest against his.

“I must go now," he said reluctantly between kisses. 

You stepped back with a sigh and glanced at the window. The hour of the wolf was darkening the sky. Downstairs, the patrons had quietened down. Heavy, awkward footsteps echoed in the corridor and doors slammed. 

At last, the more festive souls were going to bed. 

If you listened carefully, you could hear the bakers already hard at work. The first to rise, they sweetened the dreams of citizens with the sweet and greedy fragrances they distilled in the streets. 

Aemond slumped onto the bed one last time and pulled you in for a last kiss. 

“The next time I see you, I will rip that silk off your body," he smiled before pointing to the discarded dress. 

You nodded, avoiding his gaze, and kissed him one last time. 

Aemond⏤hood falling on his head⏤disappeared with an uttered I love you and left you alone with your guilt. A sigh shook your chest. 

You got dressed and went downstairs, leaving the stains on the linen as the only trace of your love. You absently nodded at Denyse, busy wiping the tables, and set off into the streets of Flea Bottom. 

It would take you a good hour to get to the forge. 

You already longed for your bed on the other side of the town. 

Flea Bottom, for all its faults, provided the discretion you needed to meet your prince every night. It was Aemond who had shown you this little inn after you refused to use the secret passages leading to the Red Keep⏤you would not throw yourself into the dragon's jaws.  

Your feet cursed you, but your heart thanked you for these precious moments⏤away from the reproaches and the forge, the vices of the court and the pressure of power. In this dingy room, the Prince softened and removed his iron mask to reveal the gentle soul hidden behind it, while you forgot the shrill cries that tormented your days. 

It took you longer than usual to reach the Street of Steel. As you passed through the wooden door, the hour of the Nightingale was casting its first rays of sunshine and waking up the workers. 

Your mother was waiting for you, arms crossed and a bucket of water at her feet. 

Without delay, she ripped the dress from your hands and replaced it with the bucket. A few drops splashed onto you, soaking the front of your sweaty tunic. 

“Where did you get that?” her sharp voice asked. “You stole it, didn’t you? How many times do I have to tell you–”

“I didn’t– It's not–”

She cut you off before you could come up with an excuse.

Her fingernails scraped at the embroidery, which held firm. 

“That’s some good work..." she mumbled. “We'll get a few silver stags out of it... Maybe enough to repair the oven. Meredyth? Meredyth! Come downstairs and take this to the weaver next door!”

You held out a shaking hand to try and retrieve the dress, but your mother glared at you. You lowered your head, your eyes wet. Aemond's face appeared in your thoughts and the guilt⏤always there⏤ignited. 

You no longer had the strength to fight the inevitable. Dawn, beautiful as it was, always had its share of disappointments in store for you. Every morning, your prince's gifts were snatched from you without remorse and sold to the nearest merchant. All that remained of your jewels and dresses was a thick leather purse hidden under the floor of your parents' bedroom⏤both took great pleasure in lecturing you about stealing and sinning. 

Your mother could pretend all she wanted to be pious and kind, a good believer with a guiltless conscience, but you knew the truth. She would never go through with her threats, far too happy with the gold dragons piling up under her pillow. 

Your sister ran down the stairs and grabbed the package before examining its contents. 

“Oh, Mum, it's so beautiful…” She took the dress out of its wrapping and pressed it to her chest before twirling around, not minding the dirt on the silk with her ashen fingers. “Can we keep it?”

Your mother scoffed. 

“To do what? You don't need an embroidered dress to forge swords and shoe horses. Why don't you go and see if Claere can take it? And you!" she turned back to you. “Clean the grindstone. You’ll sharpen the commissions next. Corwyn isn't here.”  

The knot tightened around your neck as you nodded and disappeared into the workshop. 

The hours passed. Sweat stuck to your forehead and the sparks from the grindstone bit your fingers. At last⏤to your delight⏤ nine o'clock struck the end of the day. You gave Duncan⏤a golden cloak⏤the dagger he had ordered, pocketed the fifty silver stags and wished him a good evening. 

When he closed the door, you hurried up to your room, washed yourself with the bucket of cold water, put on one of your best dresses and ran to Flea Bottom, ignoring your mother's cries, which faded under the beating of your soles. 

You arrived at the inn out of breath, but happy to be away from home. Denyse greeted you with a wink and watched you stride up the stairs. The steps creaked under your weight, but you did not care. Habit and euphoria carried you to an innocuous door. 

You opened it and a body flung itself against yours. A smile lit up your face. Aemond did not wait and pulled you to the bed. 

As his lips peppered your neck with kisses, his hands slipped under your body and roamed the length of your back. They clung to your dress and sought out the threads of your bodice, but suddenly stopped. You tensed. Gently, Aemond straightened up. He looked at you before his eye fell on your cotton dress.

“What is this?” 

“Aemond, I–” 

“Wasn't it to your liking? You should have told me. I would have asked the royal weaver to make the necessary alterations. We just received Essos fabrics. Perhaps it would have been wiser to talk to you about it before commissioning it,” he frowned. 

“It was perfect.”

“Was?”

You sighed and embraced him. Immediately, Aemond's hands searched for yours. Your fingers intertwined. He pulled you against him and tucked his chin into your neck. As he spoke, his breaths hit your skin and made you shiver. 

“What are you not telling me, my love?”

His closeness calmed you. With the tip of your pointer finger, you brushed his back and caressed the hollow of his spine. Your hand came to rest on the small of his back and traced invented letters that told of all the love you felt for him. He smiled against your neck and kissed it, understanding the gibberish you were writing with an ignorant hand. 

The language of love knew no illiteracy.

“Y/N?”

Your sigh struggled to come out, blocked by the muscular torso against your chest. It struggled to find its way to your lips and  when it did come out, it poured all its guilt into the air before suffocating you. 

“It's just that... I mean... Don't get angry, please, I couldn't bear it,” you begged.

“Never, my love. Now tell me.” 

“Your gifts… My parents… They sell them.” 

He straightened up and sought your gaze, but you turned your head away. Guilt lacerated your throat. You swallowed to get rid of the horrible feeling, but it remained. 

The Gods were punishing you. 

“They sell them and use the gold for the forge or when they feel like it.”  

He said nothing, which worried you. 

“Stop offering me more," you stammered. “I beg you, Aemond. I can't bear the guilt any longer. Please, Aemond. You must understand…”

He hushed you and gently caressed your cheek. You took refuge in the warmth of his palm and closed your eyes. His lips wiped away the few tears that rolled down your cheekbone. 

“It is all right.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, my sweet. Now please, do not cry. I cannot bear this sight.”

After your conversation, Aemond stopped bringing you gifts. Your heart sank, but you told yourself that it was for the best⏤your parents would, at last, no longer monopolise his fortune. Now, all your prince had left to offer you were his caresses and words, but you felt richer than if he had given you a piece of jewellery. 

Your hammer struck the iron, sending sparks flying. They nicked at your cheeks but did not dim the smile on your face. Your thoughts drifted back to last night, Aemond's warm skin against yours, his hand between your thighs, his warmth and his thrusts… 

A metallic noise brought you back to reality. You raised your head and blinked, expecting to find Corwyn in the workshop, but there was only you. 

It comes from the shop, you realised. 

You frowned⏤thinking about the person behind the counter⏤and wiped your hands on an old towel before walking to the front. Worry settled in your chest as you quickened your pace. 

Your father never dropped his tools. Years of experience had turned his hammer into a part of his hand. He was no longer the young apprentice you or your siblings still were. 

You stumbled into the shop. 

“M’prince!" your father stammered. “To what do we owe this honour?”

Your wide eyes met Aemond's satisfied one. The towel fell to the floor. 

“Would you like a sword? I have several that might please you. No Valyrian steel around here unfortunately," he chuckled, "but they cut just as good.”

“I’ve come to discuss your daughter's affairs.” 

“Meredyth?” 

“Your youngest daughter," the Prince replied. 

Your father gave you an incredulous look when you reached him. His fist tightened around the hammer he had picked up. 

“I heard a rumour that rather annoys me, I must admit. A rumour about valuable objects that have an unfortunate tendency to disappear.”

Your father grabbed your upper arm to keep you in line⏤ unwilling to sully his image in front of the Prince Regent. 

“Her mother and I...! We've told her a hundred times not to steal! She's a good girl, m’prince. She's just a little... lost. Youth, you know," he smiled nervously. “No need to make a big deal of it. Don't you think?”

“Oh, your daughter is innocent. You are the problem, sir.” 

“M-me?”

“You see, those objects were gifts. From me, might I add. And I take great offence that you not only stole them but shamelessly sold them for your own gain, embezzling money from the crown. This is an act of treason, did you know that? I could have your head for this.”

You massaged the bridge of your nose between two fingers and sighed, cursing your lover's hot blood and praying to the Gods to give you the strength. Three eyes burned at your temple⏤two of embarrassment, one of pride. You met your father's gaze and shrugged. 

“I… I beg your pardon, m’prince. We didn't know.” 

Your father set down his hammer on the counter and curtsied. His callused fingers waved, unsure of what to do, before plunging into the centre pocket of his leather apron. 

The prince stared at your father for a few more seconds, gloating as he squirmed with embarrassment, and moved towards you. Gently, he took hold of your wrist. You gasped when a cold sensation touched your hand. You looked down and found a magnificent ring on your finger⏤a fine circle of twisted gold with several sparkling sapphires.

“And there it was. Something as precious as you," he smiled, stroking the jewel with his thumb. “A thousand stones could not compare with your eyes, but I must admit I cannot wait to see it on your finger tonight. It will be all the more beautiful under the moonlight.”

Aemond kissed your hand before straightening up to glare at your father. 

“If I hear this ring has been sold, you will suffer the consequences. Is that clear?”

“Yes, m’prince.”

“Hmm. Good.”

He left the forge with a confident step and slammed the door behind him. 

Silence stretched on. Your teary eyes remained riveted on the jewel. The imprint of his kiss still warmed the back of your hand and made your heart race. You shook your fingers, welcoming this new weight, and smiled brightly.  

After several minutes, your father, his mouth ajar, finally turned to you. 

“Now, what on earth did you do to seduce a prince, girl?