#LATTE IN FANCY DRESS

[the-wereraven]

Stuff I got from the CR Wedtoon in case you haven't seen it;

✨ Them ✨

BSLANSBSLWMANARREAHHDHDGAGGGHGGHGNNAAAGRRRGAGSHWGD

WO

WOMEN

[heather--moors]

[biolumien]

heya!! Saw you had open requests. And I was wondering if you could do something with Hoshina with the trope of Opposites attract?

Like maybe reader could be shy and quiet type. Who is strangely not a fighter like he is. Reader could be a sweet civilian or something and it'd be nice to see how the rest of the characters react to their relationship. Though of course, feel free to change it as you wish. Whatever you write I'm sure it'll turn out amazing.

Feel free to ignore this if it isn't your fancy :DD

notes: ahh repeat it with me now the fic got away from me and took on a life of its own... i hope this is okay ;-;!!

cafe latte

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no content warnings necessary. i think word count: 1752

the first time you were saved by soshiro hoshina was in front of the wreckage surrounding your cafe. 

the smell of blood was overwhelming as you stepped out warily, wincing as a drop of the kaiju carcass’s acidic blood dripped onto the pavement in front of you, carving out a hole in the concrete. 

“careful!” a voice called out from somewhere above you. “it’s still not safe for civilians.” 

you watch as the vice captain of the third division, soshiro hoshina, lands deftly on the ground, sheathing his twin katanas at his back. his closed, smiling eyes crack open just a tad, and he hums, his voice muffled by his respirator. 

your eyes go wide. 

the third division was legendary among the defense force, after all, and it was soshiro hoshina in the flesh in front of you! your body seemed to move of its own accord, and--

“um–can i,” you stammer out, pulling out your notepad for taking cafe orders. “can i get your autograph?”

“huh?” hoshina wipes a bit of blood from his suit. “i mean, sure, but wouldn’t you rather get an autograph from captain ashiro? i’m sure the resell value on that is far better.” even as he said this, though, he’d reached out to sign your notepad, scribbling a haphazard signature.

“i mean–everyone likes captain ashiro,” you say nervously as hoshina hands the notepad back to you. “but—you kept the kaiju from wrecking my—my shop.” you shift your eyes to the front of your cafe, and then back to hoshina, covered in blood and still wearing his respirator mask. “so i wanted your signature specifically.” 

“oh, i see,” hoshina says. he sounds teasing. “business will be slow for a bit, though, with the cleanup. are you going to be okay?” 

“oh? i—yes, i… it’ll be fine. the cleaners usually take… two weeks, i think. so… it might be a bit slower.” 

“hmm.” hoshina hums, removing his mask. you’d seen hoshina’s face on the news, largely in the background as mina ashiro spoke on eliminating the kaiju threat—so you’d known he was handsome, but something about seeing his face in person was different. he felt more—tangible. real. 

“i’ll have to stop by some time,” hoshina says with a smile. 

“i…” you lift up your notepad to hide your face. “i-i mean… sure. i… i don’t know why you would… but—”

“think of it like me paying you back for the slow business,” hoshina says. 

“okay,” you say, your voice hitching slightly. 

[…]

business was slow the next week, as you’d told hoshina. the kaiju carcass outside was pretty bad for business, really–something about the bad vibes, or something like that. so you go through the motions, cleaning up tables, ordering new coffee beans and stock for the next few weeks when business would pick up again. it was hard work, but it was made a little easier based on the fact that there was hardly anyone in the cafe right now. 

you look outside the window, resting your elbows on the counter, sighing. looks like it’d be another slow day after all. 

you raise your head as the cafe door jingles.

“welcome to the—it’s you,” you stammer out as hoshina walks through the door. off-duty he wears fairly loose clothes, a sharp contrast to how sharply dressed he looks during press conferences. he’s dressed in a loose black jacket with a tight turtleneck, and loose pants with a pair of reasonably-fashionable looking sneakers, with a black mask over his mouth. “you really didn’t have to—”

“not like i had much better to do,” hoshina says easily, waving a hand, pulling down his mask now that he was inside. “it’s not often i get time off. and i gave you my word, so i might as well make good on it.” he walks forward, examining the cafe menu. “what’s good here?” 

“umm—the… americano, is… okay,” you say. “i… think.” “you think?” hoshina blinks at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, teasingly. “does that mean you don’t know?”

“i–no, it’s–it’s good,” you say more assertively now. hoshina laughs, and your heart skips a strange beat. 

“hm… i’ll admit i don’t really drink that much coffee, so i’ll give you free reign to do whatever you think i’d like.” hoshina smiles. 

“i–that’s too much freedom,” you protest. “what if you hate it–” “i’m not gonna hate it,” hoshina says. “i came here out of my own free will after all! just go with the flow.”

so you end up making him a latte, doing a bit of latte art on the top using some cream. it’s a small fox with closed eyes and a sharp smile, and you slide it across the counter for his approval. he picks up the cup, spinning it gently–and you try not to look too hard at his hands. he hums.

“looks almost too cute to drink,” he says. “cheers, though.” he takes a long, slow sip, and you feel your heart pound in your throat as he lowers the cup. 

“is—”

“it’s good,” hoshina says with a smile. “i’ll have to keep coming back here. i can’t believe i’ve missed out on this place.” 

[…]

he just… keeps coming back during his off duty hours, dressed sharply and plainly each time. you make him new animals in his lattes—cats, dogs, bunnies, mostly cats and foxes. 

a few times you attempt a very crazy looking kaiju, but by the time you hand over the cup it’s deflated already, and you slide over the drink with shame on your face and he just laughs, and you try not to think about the fact that his fingers brushed against yours as he takes the cup each time. 

you learn a bit more about him each time, but it’s mostly surface level things. how his day’s going, what’s annoying him—mostly what’s annoying him, but said in a conversationally light way. 

but he asks a lot of questions about you. favorite color, animal, food—innocuous at first, down to grittier questions about good memories, lasting regrets and the like. 

you answer to the best of your ability, hesitantly and nervously each time. 

“not that i don’t… appreciate the conversation, but…” you say one day as you’re scrubbing down a particularly messy table, “why do you ask all these questions anyway? i-i doubt my answers are… anything interesting, so—”

hoshina takes a sip from his coffee. 

you made him a penguin today. 

“i’m just curious,” hoshina says, in a tone that almost sounds apologetic. “work habit. gotta know everything about everyone. your coworkers, the officers, kaiju…” 

he watches out the window for a moment, and you think about the large gap between the two of you—two completely separate worlds as he fights to defend the world from a threat so foreign and massive that it seemed utterly inconceivable—and here you were, wondering about how you might sell enough cafe lattes to make ends meet and pay rent. 

“but more than anything,” hoshina says after a long moment, and you nearly startle hearing his voice again, “i just want to get to know you because you’re interesting.”

and in his eyes is a weighted, assured sincerity that makes your heart flip nervously. 

[…]

the second time you were saved by soshiro hoshina, it was a smaller, less dramatic affair. 

you’re carrying out trays to some other customers while hoshina sits at one of the tables, his laptop open as he’s working on some paperwork. 

and then suddenly you trip on one of the floorboards, falling forward with a yelp, and you brace yourself for the utter worst—spilled glassware and maybe a really bad fall—but then you gasp out as hoshina pulls an arm around your waist, keeping you from completely planting on your face. 

he lets go soon after, his eyes scanning yours for a moment. you wonder why your side feels a little bit colder, why you wished for the pressure of his hand against your side to stay for a little longer. surely it was nothing. 

“careful now,” hoshina says, a teasing lilt to his voice, but then he seems a little more contemplative, slightly more concerned. “nothing spilled too bad, right?” 

“no,” you say, a little dazed as you check the trays to find that thankfully, everything seemed in place. “thank you, hoshina.”

“mhm,” hoshina says, his eyes flitting back to his work. a smirk crosses his lips for a moment as his eyes flit back up to meet yours. “can’t save you all the time, can i?”

you sputter for a moment, and he laughs, and it’s not long before you’re laughing too. 

[…]

there are people huddled outside the street as hoshina enters into the cafe today. he seems a little weary, running a hand through his hair. 

“you look out of it,” you comment. 

“i… the…” hoshina glances back at the people outside. your eyes widen when you notice the telltale ponytail of—

“is that mina ashiro?” you exclaim, slamming your hands against the counter. “seriously? out here?” 

hoshina looks wearier at the excitement in your voice. 

“sorry,” you say. “but why is she here?” 

“i…” hoshina looks up at the ceiling, exhaling for a second. “do you want to go out with me?” 

you think your heart stops beating. 

hoshina’s watching you, and his eyes flit to yours, before trying to look at anything else. 

“where—where did this come from?” you ask. you want to hide behind something. your ears feel hot, and he coughs. 

“it comes from… ah, i’m not good at metaphor,” hoshina says, spreading his hands. “it’s so much worse than being straightforward—so i’ll just put it plainly. i like you. i come to the cafe a lot because i like you. i want to go out with you. and some of my… coworkers,” 

hoshina turns to glare at some of the people outside, who seem to scatter at his stare. 

“…were interested in seeing the person that has captured my attention. so… i hope that’s clear.”

does he seem ever-so-slightly nervous?

your face feels hot.

“yes,” you say, reaching out to clasp his hand. “of course.”

hoshina exhales, loud.

“okay. good. not that i was nervous or anything, but i’ve got a reputation to uphold out there, with those clowns,” hoshina says, squeezing your hand back, cool as ever. you smile, leaning up to kiss hoshina quickly, and he laughs, brushing his nose against yours.

and out of the corner of your eye, you see mina ashiro taking a picture with her phone. 

[calibabii21]

| lunch | billie e.

pairing: billie eilish x fem!reader

genre: suggestive, flirty

warning(s): blatant flirting lmao, sexual tension, profanity...yeah

a/n: if you know me, you know I sorta fancy this woman (obvs not the only one), and I desire to make music with her. & forewarning, this just may be thee most self indulgent thing I've written to date😭 but I'm keeping it tame, I'm keeping it quick, & I'm keeping it cute. (also- this is only slightly proofread)

I've said it all before, but I'll say it again I'm interested in more than just bein' your friend

the chatter surrounding you is barely keeping you present. you had fantasized about this moment– manifested and prayed for it. but it never dawned on you how intense it would actually be.

"Billie, if you don't stop staring at me like that.." you sip down the remainder of your frozen matcha latte as she tilts her head at you, lips slowly curling into her signature smile.

"I'm just looking at you 'cause you're talkin." she lets out an innocent laugh, resting her head on her folded hands. there's a pass of thick silence.

she smiles at your flustered expression, "you are so fun." she licks her lips as her eyes roam your seated figure, "let's do it."

"do what?" you look at her confused and she mocks your expression, "what do you mean 'do what?'- collab, stupid." she chuckles and tosses a fry at you. "the reason for even meeting."

she looks at you with those hazy, icy blue irises and bites her bottom lip, "unless you wanted something else?" God, her tongue. her tattooed skin. the way she dressed. her voice–

why am I suddenly so taken by her? you get caught up in your swarming thoughts.

"you look good with braces." your eyes wander as to not get too sucked into her aura, even when your legs brush one another's as she leans back in her seat staring dead at your face.

"Haha, you're really fuckin cute."

gay panic surges through you as a whimper nearly escapes you, and though you cover it well, your face still shows frustration. "God you are such a fucking tease."

you can't hide your smile as you both stand, gathering your things to exit the restaurant. she slightly lags behind you, and you look over your shoulder to see her not so slyly checking you out.

once in front of your car, you turn to face her, "I assume your eyes got enough?" she bursts into laughter and flips her hat backwards, "damn. guess there was no getting away with that."

she licks her lips once more as she approaches you and opens her arms for a hug. you may not be a hugger, but you damn sure were today.

there's no hesitation as she buries her face into your neck, her hands "accidentally" brushing the curve of your ass. "you smell good as fuck."

you take that opportunity to run your fingers down through her hair, tugging it a bit. a shudder passes through you as you both pull back, your hands slow to leave her waist.

"I connected with you to propose working together, but I got a lot more than that out of it." she guffaws at you with wide eyes, "YOU?? girl the way I don't even want to walk away!" her words make you smile and giggle at one another.

you bite your lip pondering, before working up the courage. "I want..to go on a date. with you....or several haha."

she grins giddily, a light red tint glazing her cheeks. "well, that's the most direct you've been all day." a few chuckles pass between you the two of you as she leans against your car.

"I would love that."

[dontsh0vethesun]

let me sleep.

masterlist

emily prentiss x reader

summary: you can’t sleep lately, emily is your only glimpse of comfort

angst, hurt/comfort, r can’t sleep, r is kinda sad, completely self indulgent

a/n: title is from ‘the wisp sings’ by winter aid - i didn’t base the fic on the song but it fits the vibe | i wrote this at 6am, it is all edited whilst sleep deprived so it isn’t great and may have errors.

word count: 1.5k

The quiet of the night leaves no room for rest. The hum of passing cars is long gone, the small space in your curtains you can never seem to be rid of lets in the light that starts the morning, and your eyes burn.

The quiet of the break of dawn is oppressive. Each night, the bleeding of sunrise into the once-dark sky is a weight in your mind, a bitter reminder that the sleep you beg for is just out of reach.

Your bedroom is muted and suffocating, you practically gasp for reprieve against the nagging of your mind each time you close your eyes. Weeks of sleepless nights, brief rests before the blare of your alarm and the occasional nap on the BAU jet, have left you weak. Tired to your aching bones, relying on cup after cup of coffee despite the way your heart threatens to break free of the confines of your chest.

You lie awake tonight, thinking that, just maybe, your stinging eyes will get a break, even beginning to finally drift off until your phone vibrates beside you. The shrill alarm tone you chose makes you nauseous and you could scream at the fact you have to claw yourself away from the obnoxiously expensive pillows you splurged on.

Instead of resting, you tap into the mere morsel of energy you have left to dress yourself for work, opting for a drive-thru coffee to save yourself the effort. The cold of your iced latte shakes you awake enough to walk into the bullpen. The half-empty cup was your crutch, and you hope it’ll serve you well enough to survive the morning.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Emily murmured from behind you. Just the sound was enough to finally pull somewhat of a smile from your lips. You offered the upturn of your mouth as a greeting, turning to face her as she shrugged off her jacket and dropped her bag beneath her desk.

She opened her mouth to talk again before Hotch grabbed your attention, stepping out of his office with nothing more than a nod of his head as he walked to the conference room.

“Couldn’t even finish my coffee in peace,” you mumbled, voice marred with exhaustion. Emily gave your arm a squeeze before she led the way.

You sipped through your paper straw while the case was discussed, chewing it into disgusting oblivion when all that was left was melting ice. You hardly listened, and you could hardly focus; you just shifted in your seat under the miserable exhaustion that felt as though some malevolent force had decided to tie weights of lead to your ankles.

You just wish someone had told you that the nights that left you tired would give you days of aching misery. The gluttonous streak of impulse you harbour wants to hand in your resignation just so you’d have ample time to curl up in your apartment and wallow in the sour gloom. The nagging voice of reason, however, knows that you need money. And Emily.

Somehow, through your daze, you made it onto the jet. And, because the world is desperate to disappoint you, the flight was a measly hour long. You kept yourself awake with a coffee constantly in your grasp, head held up by the window’s cool glass.

“For a jet that costs so much, you’d think they could spend a little extra on nicer coffee,” you grumbled with a bitter sip. Your words of protest were met with amused smiles, and if you were still in the ‘full to the brim with agita’ stage of tiredness, you’d have argued that you were completely earnest in your remark. Instead you settled on appreciating Emily’s smile.

“I’m sure Hotch could put in a request for one of those fancy machines,” she returned with a pointed look in his direction.

“Or Rossi could be charitable for once,” you added. Emily laughed at your retort with a nudge to your shoulder when he tutted in amusement - you were all very aware of his miserly tendencies by now.

You somehow managed to claw your way through to the evening; the ache for sleep hadn’t dwindled and yet you found yourself staring up at the ceiling with a sleeping brunette by your side.

Her lips were parted with even breaths, skin soft and dusted with the light pink of sleep. She looks beautiful even like this, and you could cry if you hadn’t grown bitterly numb. She’s much too good for you, you’re sure. A smile that brightens a room and a laugh to match. A person so full of love, and she chooses to spend her time with you, a person so drained with little left to give.

Your head weaves its webs of doubt, shame spilling into the cracks that won’t repair, spiralling in a perfect elixir of guilt and gut-wrenching agony. Your body grows hot beneath the duvet and your throat squeezes the air out of your lungs. You wish you could cry, muffled sobs into the quiet of the night until you finally sleep, but your face remains still and unmarked by tears.

The chill of the midnight air pulls goosebumps from your skin when you step out onto the hotel room's balcony. You shudder at the sudden change of temperature but revel in the fact that you're feeling something at least. Maybe now your body will realise you’re human and start to work correctly.

You think of Emily and all the ways you love her, leaning your arms against the balcony’s fencing; you can only seem to smile when she looks at you. You never want to dim the light that shines on you when she’s near by telling her the truth. That when she sleeps at night, you lie awake. That when you smile, you smile for her. That only she can make you laugh. That you feel as though you’re being consumed whilst your heart still pumps blood through your weary body. That you wouldn’t mind lying next to her as she sleeps every day until you die.

So trapped in your thoughts, you miss the change in the air; she sidled up beside you, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, looking perfectly adorable with a reddened cheek from where she’d cuddled up against her pillow.

“Hey, what’re you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged. “It’s not too late yet, I’ll get enough hours in - you should go back to bed.”

“I sleep better when you’re around,” she returned, resting her hand on the small of your back. “Something on your mind?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue; the truth of your mind that keeps you awake. The fact she is much too perfect for you but you can’t let her go. That you’re only human if she’s by your side. Confessions of the purgatory you find yourself in, the sacrificial lamb ready to be slaughtered, pulled back by your devotion to her.

“No, not really,” you answered. “Just one of those nights, I guess.”

“Alright,” she breathed with a kiss to the top of your head. You’re not sure if she believed you. “It’s freezing out here; come back to bed.”

“I was looking at the moon before you interrupted me,” you teased, laughing at the way she gasped and poked your waist in amused disapproval. You’d throw a lasso around the planet and pull it down for her if that was what she desired - if that would make you more worthy of her affection.

“Well, she can wait because I’m tired,” she muttered. “Plus, I can actually see you,” she added, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. There was something unspoken behind her words, you’re sure - part of you pathetically hopes there was. “And, I’m a professional cuddler.”

“That’s a strong claim, Emily,” you laughed.

“I have the trophy to prove it,” she seamlessly countered. “Come on, I’ll show you.” She took your cold hand in hers, breathing warmth into your skin, and pulled you behind her until she’d yanked you all the way beneath the covers once more.

She wrapped both arms around you with your face nestled in the crook of her neck and her nails stroking over the skin of your back beneath your shirt. You relaxed in her hold, deflating against her until you couldn’t be any more comfortable.

“The moon can’t do this,” she grumbled. Jealous of the moon as if she couldn’t easily find somebody better. You want to ask her, in the vulnerable silence of the night, why she chose you.

“No, it can’t.”

The smell of her perfume lingered on her skin, the reassuring scent of vanilla and violets you’ve grown used to, and as the minutes passed and passed the patterns drawn on your skin by the pads of her fingers dwindled down into nothing but a flattened palm. Each sleeping breath fell against your forehead in dulcet exhales of air. Occasionally, she’d shift in her position, reminding you that the thing that had quietened your head was the person who latched onto you.

You only managed to catch a couple of hours of sleep, but you think that perhaps one day you could rest soundlessly if she continues to choose you.

[madamechrissy]

But it's Better if You Do

ৎ୭ Pairings ৎ୭ Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

ৎ୭ Warnings ৎ୭ MDNI- Lap dance, teasing, fingering, more explicit as we go. <3

ৎ୭ Word Count ৎ୭ 5.9k

ৎ୭ Summary ৎ୭ Every weekday for a year, Nanami Kento comes into the coffee shop you work at, and he orders the same damn thing. You have it bad but are too nervous to do more than doodle on his cups. You have a double life, because you're also 'Foxy' a featured dancer at a strip club once a week. A bachelor party for Satoru Gojo has you dancing, and he's there. Nanami fucking Kento. You end up both in a VIP room, awkward, nervous, but then... it's your chance. He doesn't know it's you, right? What harm can a lap dance do? Surely won't be awkward the next day...

Masterlist

ৎ୭Chapter 1

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans was your sanctuary in an odd way. It was a world away from the smoky haze and thumping bass of the club you danced at once a week, away from dance lessons you still took though they led to nothing. A world where you were just you, the barista, not 'Foxy' the dancer.

You were exhausted, concealer working overtime to hide the bags under your eyes, yawning a bit as you mix up an espresso for yourself. It was early and typically not many people came just yet, a little loll where you could peek at your phone, sip on that dark espresso… but one person always came first thing.

The bell jingles above the door, and you feel yourself flush. He was here. Nanami Kento, the man who had been a regular for months and months now. Damn near a year, and always ordered the same thing, sometimes getting another for his coworkers, but never anything different for himself.

He was so handsome, but so uptight that it made your mind wander as to what the man did for fun, or if he knew how to have any. You knew he’d be ordering his usual Americano, and he gave you a small little half smile, so charming it made you falter for some fucking reason.

He was in a tan suit, baby blue dress shirt, those fancy expensive glasses resting on his eyes, eyes you’d have died to see if you were being honest. His tie today was some cow print, yesterday had been leopard, the day before Zebra, perhaps a walking contradiction to his personality.

“Good morning, Nanami.” You say, and he nods, hands in his pants pockets, blonde hair slicked back but a small bit hung forward. Your fingers itched to push it back, and you clenched your teeth at the thought.

“Good morning.” He said your name so softly, it made you into a whole mess, as it had been for months now. God knows how you could dance on a pole once a week in lingerie, but couldn’t just fucking hit on him.

It was the ongoing joke of the café at this point.

“Hmm, perhaps a pumpkin spice latte?” You tease, as he shook his head with a little sigh.

“The usual. Make it strong.” His voice, even in this mundane setting, sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to ignore the way his eyes, usually so sharp and focused, seemed to linger on you for a moment too long behind the green glasses.

“Coming right up.” You tilt your head side to side as you turn away, brewing his coffee for him.

“Not sleeping well?” He asked softly, you turned in surprise, instantly insecure, touching your face.

“The concealer isn’t working huh?”

Two little lines creased between his brows, lips turning down. “Concealer?”

“Yeah I’m trying to hide the dark circles. Ugh. Do I look like shit?”

He was frowning now, leaning forward, hands gripping the counter, and you studied them, the veins popping out, and your mind went fucking awry. You lick your lips nervously, turning, snatching up his coffee and then popping a lid on it, drawing a little heart with a sharpie. Every day was a new stupid little shape, and he never commented about them.

“You could never look ‘like shit’ as you put it.” You damn near dropped the coffee, gasping, turning back around to see him, so tall and imposing, leaning over the counter toward you.

You wanted to grab that tie and yank him to you.

Fuck.

How’d a guy that said ten words to you a day have you so fucked?

“I… here.” You gently hand him the cup, and your fingertips brush, his hand lingering as yours did, before gently pulling away. “I don’t look like shit then?”

He smirked a bit, shaking his head, and you could feel the gaze on you, making you heat up, nervous. “You have never looked bad. Any day I’ve been in here.”

“You need better glasses.” You mumble. He laughed a bit, and the sound was foreign, it made him more… human.

“I don’t lie.” You believed him. You felt your cheeks flushing pink, looking down just a bit.

“Thank you, Nanami. That makes me feel better.”

“You’re… you’re welcome.” He cleared his throat. “I asked if you were tired because of how you were stretching your neck, and rolling your shoulders. You also were covering a yawn.”

You tense, gaze back at his eyes in those green glasses, wondering their color. You picked up a fresh almond croissant then that you'd just made, handing it to him. He smiled, and handed you cash then, far too much, as he tended to tip you every morning.

“You’re very observant.” You murmured, and he shrugged a broad shoulder. Dude was built like a whole action star, aching to break from that suit. It addled your brain more and more.

“I do notice things. Do you work outside of this?”

Your whole body is flushed now, he rarely tried to make conversation. You could never ever admit that you stripped once a week, danced on a goddamn pole. You made more doing that than all week here at the shop. You couldn’t imagine what proper, uptight Nanami might think of such a thing.

You were a show girl more than anything, you didn’t do dances or VIP rooms, because of your skill at dance and performance, you were instead a feature at various places. Once upon a dream you’d thought you’d make it as an actual dancer, but foolish dream that had turned to be. You still tried, even now, even exhausted, auditioning for little things, but it wasn't enough money.

Would that seem pathetic to such a wealthy businessman?

You clear your throat. “I do dance… I also take dance classes. I guess that does tire me out.”

“That’s impressive.” He surprised you, and you smiled at it.

“Thank you but no, not at all. Just an amateur hobby.”

“Well… I hope you have a good day. Thank you.” He held up his cup, peering at the heart doodle, and the raised brows and amused look on that chiseled face made you catch your breath.

“You’re welcome, you too! See you Monday!” He gave you a little wave, sauntering out. You watched him like a lovesick fool.

Oof.

“Why don’t you just ask him out?” The voice made you jump, and you looked to your co worker, Nobara. She was a gorgeous strawberry blond with a hell of an attitude that you loved.

“I… don’t think he’d be interested in someone like me.”

“Someone like you? Hot? Can dance on a pole?”

“Shh!” You two giggled, and you sighed sadly. She was sucking on a lollipop, tilting her head, short hair swinging as she studied you with soft brown eyes.

“You should just say how you feel. It’s been almost a year watching you pine for him. It's literally making me wanna scream.”

“I know…” You sigh, sipping your espresso and needing another. “I have this bachelor party at the club I have to dance an extra night for it because I mean shit… good money. I’m tired.”

“I know. You’re saving a lot though. Not much longer.” Nobara brushed your hair behind your ear, smiling. You were trying your best to save for an elite dance school. Every bit you made went to bills and that.

“That makes me feel better, Kugasaki. Thank you.” You peck a little kiss on her cheek.

“Should have him watch you dance, ooh, then he’d love you. You sure are a talented bitch up on that pole.”

“Ah, stop. Him in a strip club? No way.”

“The strictest ones are the most freaky.”

You two giggle, then a customer came in, and soon the throng approached, and you and Nobara killed it along with the help of your other coworker and friend, Yuuji, working in perfect sync.

Imagine Nanami Kento in your club on that one night a week you were there, you’d die of embarrassment. Some things were best left unsaid, and your ridiculous crush would remain one of them for sure. You just hope you’ll be able to get a nap before you go in tonight.

***

The scent of stale cigarette smoke and cheap perfume filled the air as you danced that night, dressed in a bright pink wig and slinky lace and sequined two piece costume. You gripped the pole of the stage as men gathered around you, the soft red lighting illuminated your body, your requested music blared by the DJ, slow and sensual. You had money thrown on the stage, men coming close.

The worst part was interacting. You wished you could just dance. You climb up the pole then, using your core strength and thighs, spinning, focusing on the moves versus everyone and everything around you. You flip your body, upside down, to the gasps of the crowd, even your fellow strippers and women there, that’s what you were here for, the showmanship.

You slide around on nothing but your thighs, thick and muscular, not as slender and ladylike as you may have desired, but they had power. You had power. Your hair falls down in silky waves as you spin, eyes closed, perfecting every twist and turn just so. You finally open them, feeling yourself close to the ground, stopping yourself with your arm.

The group of the bachelor party poured in, and instead of being raucous and wild, they actually all were attentive, studying you.

Ah, a show.

You smirk, and flip down, standing, bending forward with your ass in the air, clad in fishnets and little lacy panties. More money was thrown, more men sitting around you, but you climb back up the pole, pulling yourself up, and your legs spread wide as you spin back down, in tantalizing circles, head leaning back, until you’re on the ground, elbows and knees.

The sequined costume hugged your curves in all the right places, catching glinting light. You’re bent over in front of everyone. It did not feel the best. You were better just on the pole. But, you took your time, crawling towards the crowd. Each man tipped you, sliding them in your garters that sat on your upper thighs, some trying to be too bold, too touchy, but as you neared the bachelor party, you froze.

Amongst the honestly all gorgeous men, looking like pure money, there he was, Nanami fucking Kento. Looking awkward, uncomfortable, arms crossed, donned in a gray button down dress shirt and black slacks. He didn’t have on those sunglasses, and your eyes caught him in the dark.

He was captivated by you.

You fall from your position, and decide to make it look like you meant to fall to the floor, on your tummy, your ass in the air, popping back up, trying to make yourself breathe and stay calm. You looked nothing like you, he wouldn’t know, and you could literally live part of that fantasy you had, dancing for him.

You peer and there’s a couple men you recognize from the coffee shop, Nanami’s co workers, a tall handsome white haired man that you think his name was Gojo, was the groom to be. Clearly. He wore a whole sash that said ‘Bride to be’ and a shit eating grin, like the happiest man in the world. He was so pretty he was hard to look at, you’d thought before.

“Bride to be huh?” You tease, fingernails scratching on the little silk sash. Gojo laughs, poking at his cell phone over the music.

“I am! Satoru Gojo.”

“Foxy.” You smirk, and he rolls his eyes, smirking too.

“Sure you are. This is my wife as of tomorrow.” He scrolled through pictures, showing you a picture of a gorgeous woman that looked familiar as well, you’d served her coffee many many times, she was always super sweet. You were enamored, she was breathtaking in them, laughing and happy, usually more serious when you saw her.

“She’s so beautiful.” You flush when he gets to a nude, and he was pulling it back quickly with a wiggle of his brows.

“She is, though. I can’t wait to get her fucking pregnant. She’s finally down for it.”

“Oh god.” You purse your lips, and he seemed to give no fucks, clearly obsessed. He is sliding you a large tip respectfully into your hand. “She was okay with all this?”

“Yeah, she said don’t do anything dumb, but she’s the only one for me anyway. I just figured fuck it, let’s get the boys having fun. Though I will say, you’re one hell of a dancer. Imma have to bring her to see you.” His bright blue eyes glimmered in the light, and you laughed a bit.

“I’d love to meet her…”

“Oh fuck yeah. I need to see you give her a dance.”

“I don’t do dances, I’m more of a show girl here. But I'd absolutely make an exception!”

“Oooh, listen, can you make an exception for me?”

You frown. “What?”

“Not me. I’m a bride!” You giggle, he was unlike any bachelor you’d seen at any party before. “My friend.”

“I don’t know… I just do the pole.” You ease back, hands on your thighs, Gojo respectfully staring at your face the entire time.

“It’s for my buddy and I’ll pay out the ass. But give me a few, I need to know he’ll go for it.” Gojo tipped you again, and you sigh.

“We’ll see.” He smiles and nudges his head, as you slide over to the man next to him, just as tall as Gojo, long dark hair, tan and broad shouldered. God this office was attractive, but you personally felt Nanami took the cake.

“Beautiful dance.” The man said, who Gojo just called Geto, smiling and tipping you generously, sliding it in your waistband slowly. You flush.

“Thank you so much.” You’re on to the next, a man they called Sukuna. He was tanned and broad and devilish with his smirk, tattoos attractively running down his neck. His light brown eyes devoured your entire body, completely unlike Geto’s tease and Gojo’s respect.

“Gorgeous.” He winked at you, and you leaned forward when he put his large tip in between his teeth, grabbing it with your breasts, which were popping out from the top of the lingerie now. You tended to only go topless, versus doing any more, luckily the club was very good with everyone and their comfort.

“Thank you…” You say softly, then feel his gaze on you… Nanami.

He’d been studying you this entire time, respectfully, but full of admiration, to the point where when your eyes met it startled you. You had never even seen them, they were slanted up like cat’s eyes, sensual as fuck. In the dim club they appeared to be dark brown, nearly black, and when they moved lower, to your collarbone, it was as if he was caressing your skin.

You licked your lips nervously, wishing you could find the courage to speak. But instead, you focused on the way his gaze traveled over your body, the way he seemed to drink in every inch of you. It was intoxicating, exhilarating. In this moment, you felt beautiful and confident, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

How could you be so shy when you were dancing on a pole? Your tits were half out… and gorgeous men surrounded you. But Nanami's intense gaze became your undoing. You blushed, tucking your hair behind your ear, trying to act casual as he took out a large tip in his big hands.

“You're very talented.” His voice was husky, you tremble, smiling.

“Thank you.” You scooch to where he's between your thighs in his seat right by the stage, watching him tense with a hitch in his breath. You feel far too bold. He doesn't know it's you and he's here looking…

You slide a hand down your chest, to your nearly exposed breasts, gently tugging the material so a hint of your nipples showed. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as you held out the fabric, leaning forward, his hands were steady but his eyes were like a hawk on your lush breasts.

He slid the money into the strap of your bra, and the brush of his rough fingers makes you tremble. He notices, pulling back and catching your eyes. Fuck would he recognize them? You lower your lashes and attempt to look flirtatious and not like some weird shy stripper. You kind of fail.

You slide back up with a smile, but he halts you, another tip, sliding this one in one of your garters. His friends tease him mercilessly, and there's a little pink on his cheeks, on Nanami fucking Kento’s perfect damn cheekbones. A blush. You felt one form on your face too, your gazes locked, the hand barely brushing your thigh doing fucked things to your psyche.

“Ahem… thank you so much.” You say with a smile, turning and kneeling, ass in full view along with the curve of your back as you gather some wits, going down to pick up the numerous tips. Enough to where you could probably stop for the night.

After you've cleaned the pole, headed down off the stage to probably call it a night, Gojo stops you with a hand on your shoulder. You peer up at the tall pretty boy curiously.

“Would you do a VIP with Nanami over there?” Your heart stops as you both look at him. He is leaned in a chair, sipping whiskey, eyes burning into you. “He's always hated strip clubs and usually sits in a corner miserable. But he's clearly eye fucking the shit out of you. This is weird for him.”

You feel your skin heat up. “I really only dance here once a week, I get uncomfortable even taking tips close… I…”

“You're a shy stripper! So weird.” He teased you. You roll your eyes with a self deprecating laugh.

“I just do it for money and because I like to pole dance. Not exactly a regular stripper. There are plenty of beautiful girls here though that gladly will!” You gesture to the pretty ladies around you, fawning over the men. He shakes his head.

“Nope. Gotta be you. He hasn't even checked another girl out here. Pretty please?” He shoots his pretty blue eyes at you with a pout. You sigh. You can't do that… you can't…

“I mean… I could try to do a lap dance?”

“He'll get too nervous in front of us. He's uptight as fuck.” Gojo puts on his charm, winking at you with a grin. “I'll pay a fuck ton.”

“Oh gosh…”

“He's super respectful, he'd never touch you… shit even if you wanted him to, he’d probably be too shy.” Your heart falters. You know that. “You clearly like him, you can't take your eyes off the business boy.”

“I… well I…” You drop to a whisper. “I kinda know him.”

“Oooh!” He snapped his fingers with a devious look. “Even better. I love some good drama!”

“You're sort of a dick. No offense.” Gojo threw his head back with laughter at your glare.

“My fiance will love you for sure. She agrees! Listen, just do it for me. I'm the bride to be!” He bats white spiky eyelashes.

You find yourself growing more nervous, anticipation eating away at you. It's what you'd wanted forever wasn't it?

But it wasn't really you…

“Fuck it. Okay.” Gojo's grin is infectious. “I'm not the best at lap dances like I am on the pole though.”

“He won't notice. He's never had one. Okay let me work this magic on him.” He winks and heads to Nanami and your heart is thudding in your ears now.

Fuck.

You watched Gojo’s lithe figure walk over to Nanami, and you wanted to fall into the Earth, sure you were as red as the lights in the club, which luckily concealed the blush. You were a mess from his presence, a shy stripper as Gojo had put it, completely accurate. Nanami is in a serious conversation with him, Gojo’s hand on his chest, speaking into his ear.

Nanami's eyes hit you from across the bar tables, and he and Gojo ignored the other girls that walked by, aside from the shot girls. Gojo shot them all smiles but you could tell he was deep in love with the bride-to-be, and something in it made you wistful, longing… you were alone aside from your cat, Sebastian, who surely was angry you were out late tonight.

He’d probably scratch some shit up.

Nanami ends up walking back towards you with Gojo by his side, hands in his pockets, hair falling in front of his brow, eyes averted. Gojo pushed him towards you, then slid you forward with a sure hand on your back, making you two brush against each other a bit. You tense, and so does he.

“Dear God, you’re at a strip club, you two.” Gojo sighed, rolling his eyes. “So ‘Foxy’ here doesn’t do VIP or lap dances, she’s more the star of the show.” He shoots you a wink, and you clear your throat, thighs shifting when Nanami looks back at you.

“I wouldn’t say that, but yes, I don’t.”

“She’s making an exception. So, you two go on in there.” He smacks at both of your asses, and you both scowl at him, his grin wide and ridiculous. “Come on, come on, you two crazy kids. Have fun!”

Gojo shoves you two in the VIP room, and you and Nanami are there, alone, where it’s more quiet as you’re away from the booming music. It’s intimate… you run your fingers nervously through your wig, nearly pulling the synthetic hairs out, before taking a steady breath, peering around. You’d not even been in the little room, with the velvet plush couch, and disco lighting.

The couch was large and fancy, but somehow trashy at the same time, as strip clubs went this was the nicest, but still, something felt so off. All your fantasies of the stiff business man, who was literally being forced by his quite annoying friend into being in here with you.

“We don’t have to… like we can just talk if you’re uncomfortable.” You finally manage to say, feeling as if he truly did not want to be here. He brushes a hand against your shoulder then, bringing your gaze to his.

“I’m the one that’s supposed to say that.” He smirked, and fuck it was charming, as was his eyes and how they studied you. “You really aren’t a normal stripper, huh?”

“Well I make plenty dancing so I don’t sell things.”

“Do you want to do this?”

Your teeth bite your lower lip, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to say who you were, what you felt… but what would that bring? Confusion? Embarrassment?

If he’d found you attractive at work he’d have responded to one of your countless doodles or something by now right? You’d even asked who you now knew was Gojo’s fiancé for his number, and he’d come the next day and said nothing. You’d sort of given up at that point.

Was this your chance? To get a taste of him?

Unwinding… casual… letting go.

You take his hand, yours is swallowed by his, and he was so tall that even in platform heels you had to tilt your head back to look at him. His fingers grip your hand in response, and then you turn, leading him to the giant couch, gently pushing him to have a seat. You bend down, and you take his long sleeves and unbutton them, rolling them up to reveal his arms a bit.

You watched the muscles in his arms tense, showing how fucking built he was under there. Veins popping out. He allowed it, just studying your face still. “Are you blushing?”

You felt yourself heat up more, realizing the lighting here didn’t hide it. “Maybe I am a bit.”

“Overheated?”

“Sure.” You were a shit liar for someone who lived a whole double existence, you mused, finishing your job. “I wanted you a little loosened up.”

“Do you.” His voice was husky, deep, and it alone did things to you, wicked fucking things. You brush fingers along the veins of his forearms, watching a hand close into a fist in response. You lean closer, popping a couple of his buttons, to reveal just a hint of the ripped chest, drinking the sight in greedily.

“Much better.” You muse, and half expect him to take off your bra, but he remains still, watching, waiting. You slide your hands around his neck and press your body against his, and his familiar scent envelops your senses. “Everything okay?”

“It’s perfect.” You froze at that.

You know. There was no turning back now.

Your hands glided up and down his hard chest, teasing him, thumbs barely brushing bare skin, enjoying the little hitch in his breath. You push forward over him until your breasts are against his face, drawing his attention to them like a hawk. Your lips parted as his breath was hot against them, unable to hide your aching desire was mortifying.

You slid down his body now, bending low, between his legs teasingly, hands braced on his muscular thighs, eyes catching the growing arousal beneath his pants and shooting want through you. With each movement, you could sense him becoming more and more entranced, his breathing growing heavier and more ragged. Just like you.

His expression was a mix of surprise and desire, and you couldn't help but smile shyly up at him before you turned, rolling your hips, ass now rubbing against his hard body. It was so quiet, he did not speak, and neither did you, as you lean back into it, and his hands tentatively wrap around your waist, his first contact so far, and it was making your head fuzzy with pleasure.

You could feel the anticipation building between you, the air thick with tension when his grip tightened, his small sexy fucking sigh. You turn back around and glanced down, taking in his broad shoulders, toned arms, his lips parted. You reached out, bracing your hands as you straddle him now, the sensation hitting you so hard you struggled to stay still.

"Am I doing okay?" You ask, it came out teasing, but you were actually nervous as fuck.

He gave a nervous laugh, a fucking laugh! Nanami Kento could laugh… his gaze flickers down to the floor before meeting yours again. "You're doing beautifully." He murmured.

It was the first time he'd ever spoken to you like this, and you didn't know what to say in response. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of your lungs, world far away, leaving only the two of you.

Nanami reached out, tracing a finger down your cheek as you grind on him now, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Is this okay?” He asks softly. You nod eagerly.

As his fingertip trailed lower, tracing the line of your jaw and then down your neck, you felt a shudder run through you, making it a struggle to continue confidently moving against where you were now growing wetter by the second. It was as if his touch was making every nerve ending tingle with desire. It was intoxicating..

You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of the lightest caress, still respectful despite the wicked things your body was doing against him, an intriguing contradiction that messed with your brain. The music seemed to fade into the background.

You could feel the rhythm of it still as you continued to give him the best lap dance you could, swaying your hips and rubbing against his hardness through your lacy underwear. He's so respectful, never once making you feel uncomfortable or objectified. Instead, he watches you with such intensity that it takes your breath away.

His hands are touching you but nowhere inappropriate, the waist or your hips, though you sure wanted him to touch more, fuck. Imagining those big hands squishing your soft breasts, or gripping your ass… or…

As you continue to dance for him, you lose yourself in the movement, feeling the heat rising in your body, the blood pulsing through your veins. You're aware of every inch of his body as it presses against you, the way his hands grip your hips tighter and he raises his lap up and moans a bit is just…

The music changes, another song, you’d lost count how many, and you match your movements to the beat. You feel yourself growing wetter, and hot. He hisses then, suddenly, tensing against you, as if he could tell, halting your movements. His brown eyes shoot up to yours and you freeze, embarrassed. You flush, overheated from dancing and your mixture of horny and nervous.

“I'm… I… don't really do this. I just do the pole. Am I fucking up?” You murmur. He pauses your movements again, hands firm, licking his lower lip.

“No. Not at all. You don't have to do anything else, though, you've done amazing. I know Gojo put you up to this…”

“I want to do it.” Your words make you both quiet.

“You've done plenty if you want to stop.” He was so sweet it hurt your heart.

His eyes were dark with desire though, something you'd die for every day if it were you, truly you, and not just for ‘Foxy’.

“I want to kiss you, too. That's pretty fucked up of me huh.” You mumble out of nowhere before you could shut yourself up. Nanami pauses, and now you’re not dancing, you’re just pressed against his hardness, breath making your breasts rise and fall, your wetness fucking embarrassing at this point.

“That’s not fucked up.” His hand trembled a bit as he cupped your face, gently, making you feel so tiny with those big hands and broad shoulders as you leaned in, a ghost of a kiss just hovering between your mouths.

“Do you want me to?” Your whisper brings your lips closer. Nanami nods, thumbs brushing along your lower lip, and then his lips find yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

Everything stops, every worry has vanished from your head as his firm lips press into yours, pulling away, eyes catching yours. You see little flecks of green in them. You both just breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders, his still so tender on your face it made you ache. It felt like literal sparks shot through you when his lips pressed again, firmer this time, a little gasp making them part.

The kiss deepens, his hot tongue slipping in, and it ignites a sharp burn in your tummy. You moan into his mouth, arching your back as he kisses you harder, his tongue dancing with yours. Your hands entwined in his silky blonde locks, his firm grip now sliding down to your ribcage. His thumbs brushing under the cups of your lingerie. You wanted them on your breasts so bad your nipples strain against lace.

You can feel Nanami grow even harder against the apex of your thighs, and you wonder what it would feel like to have him inside you for an insane moment.

From a kiss?

Fuck.

Tongues are entwining, pressing against each other, losing yourselves in desire, but then he breaks the kiss suddenly, panting heavily, and those eyes look into your gaze. They're filled with desire, but also something else, something you've never seen before from anyone and couldn't put into words.

"I'm sorry," He says, voice rough with emotion. You frown.

“Shit, was it that bad?” You touch your lips, eyes shooting down, mortified. He laughs quietly, shaking his head. You fall for his laugh, fall hard.

“No. Not at all. I just don't want to be disrespectful… and I'm going to have a hard time stopping if we keep on.” Nanami's voice was hoarse, as affected as you, those hands sliding up further. Your eyes went wide, feeling the power he had suddenly, how tense he was, holding back… he…

You lean back in, wanting to say fuck it, to just give your pussy what she's been aching for a whole goddamn year, pressing back onto his hard body. Nanami moans into your lips, and before you know it he's on top of you, pressing you gently into the couch, and he is kissing you, his fingers finding your wetness quick, so hot for him, over your lacy panties.

You gasp at the contact, with only the panties as your barrier, which you’d fucking soaked, and are trembling when he pulls back, his lips parted, shimmering from your kiss. Your hands grip at his dress shirt, clenching just like your fucking cunt wanted to around his cock.

You had never expected this, even having just kissed him, how he just took control… consumed you. It was possibly the sexiest thing you’d experienced. No, it was the sexiest thing. Nanami slid a long finger under your panties then, twisting them and pulling them to the side, and a cry rips from your throat.

He could now fully feel your pussy. He is sighing and lowering his body as his fingertip grazes your aching cunt, up your slit, so slow and tantalizing.

“So fucking wet.” He murmured, and you nearly fucking died as the fingetip slid against your clit, nearly doing you in, rubbing in a gentle little circle, your hips buck up, and you’re gasping.

Then you really died as he pulled his finger away for too fucking soon, licking your desire off, sucking it while shutting his eyes and groaning. He just… Your mouth drops, and your pussy throbs around nothing again, literally hurting from it. He leans back down, his hand inching up your inner thigh, lips kissing up your jaw. You shift, dying for more of his caress, of his kisses…

You're about to just beg him to fuck you at this point, uncaring of whatever that would even mean, how unlike you it was, when the bachelor party rolls in the room, drunk, raucous, and Nanami quickly sits, pulling you up with him. He adjusts your top so you’re covered, as if you weren’t stripping earlier, so gentlemanly… but then he’d just tasted you…

They all start fucking with him, yanking him away, and his eyes catch yours across the room.

Gojo comes to you with a smirk, handing you far too much money. You didn't want it. You shove it back at him, but he pushes it into your garter instead.

“It's your job, ‘Foxy’. Make the money.”

“I had way too much fun…” You whispered, and he seemed far too pleased about it. “Yeah that wasn't even work… I’m…”

“Oh fuck. You're in deep for Kento, aren’t you?” You nod, and Gojo seems to oddly understand, hand gentle on your arm. “I'm looking forward to him finding out who you are.”

“I'm sure not! I’ll die.”

He laughed, and they dragged Nanami away, leaving you two alone for a moment. “I believe in you. ‘Foxy’. Be brave.” You laugh breathlessly.

“Congrats on the wedding tomorrow, Gojo.”

He grinned, shooting you a peace sign. “I’ll be almost as pretty of a bride as her!”

You collapse on the sofa, so many thoughts fucking whirling.

You'd kissed Nanami.

He'd touched you… fuck he tasted you!

How would you face him Monday, serving him with his dumb almond croissant and black coffee?

You…

You were in deep.

Chapter 2

(Finished fic on Ao3, I'll be posting chaps on here too though)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56003029/chapters/142230640

[colorfuldragons]

dungeon meshi characters, but as flight rising dragons

𝟣. laios touden: beige/antique/antique

2. marcille donato: caribbean/flaxen/ruby

3. chilchuck tims: auburn/camo/beige

4. senshi of izganda: coal/oilslick/latte

5. izutsumi: obsidian/obsidian/white

6. falin touden: iris/antique/antique

spoiler scry + design notes under the read-more:

7. falin (chimera): vermillion/antique/antique

———————

i had been meaning to scry/post the dungeon meshi main cast for a while. i figured in honor of the manga's final chapter would be a good occasion

design notes:

𝟣. laios touden:

outfit inspired by fr user Rafale's laios fandragon

ravenskull broadsword bc it has wings like his sword

tundra + antique secondary/tert, like falin (siblings)

2. marcille donato:

ruby runes to represent: her magic, her red hair bow, bloody hands when she was resurrecting falin

will o' the ember for her explosion spells

iridescent primary for her elven heritage + penchant of fancy things

3. chilchuck tims:

veined tert to represent his greying hairs

i debated between the gambeson (closer texture) VS tanned rogue vest (overall closer colors) for him, but ended up going for the gambeson as it feels more distinct

camo secondary for a "camo = stealthy" joke

[edit: 1 feb 2024] i think my screen had the Flux settings too high before and i thought his shirt was beige. its actually white, so i changed his shirt from a shabby to classy dress shirt.

4. senshi of izganda:

bamboo dried tea to represent his cooking supplies

unfortunately none of the helm apparel had the right colors for his helmet, so i opted for tan okapi to represent his helm's horn colors

i wanted to include the iron shield apparel for his adamantine shield/pot, but it wouldve covered up his kilt, so i left it out

[edit: 1 feb 2024] changed primary from ribbon to chrysocolla, an earthy gene to match his past as a miner. changed tert color slightly to match better. also gave him carrots

5. izutsumi:

initially i tried nocturne and spiral, but the armour pieces looked too short on them, so i ended up going for mirror instead

i also tried the tanned rogue apparels, but they covered up too much of the torso

wooly antennae for her ears

6. falin touden:

marshlurker's drape to represent her coat, bc there wasnt a lot of suitable coats, and the more purple-y hue (and hat) also references her debut outfit

sparkle tert to represent her magic

tundra + antique secondary/tert, like laios (siblings)

[edit: 1 feb 2024] edited her primary to be more purplish, since the animes confirmed her coat is supposed to be more indigo colored, and gave her browner boots. also edited her reference photo coat color to match it too

7. falin (chimera):

i chose to make the touden siblings both tundras, so that chimera falin could be a gaoler (based on the joke gaolers are just tundra 2.0)

spirit secondary bc she haunts the narrative

if youve made it to here, feel free to comment which fandragon scry is your fav! :)

[rainbowbarnacle]

Please make a tea post so I can save it especially the pineapple ice cubes I need more info

Oh, like, different teas I like to make? Okay! :D

🍍Pineapple Tea🍍

The way I do it is really simple:

Buy a giant jug of already-made tea (I like gold peak!)

Buy a carton of pineapple juice

Freeze the juice into cubes, pour a little of it in the tea for extra flavor

And that's it. That's aaaall you gotta do.

There's all kindsa ways you can dress it up, but nine times out of ten I just do this and drink it by the gallon when it's hot out.

If you wanna get fancy with it, feel free to cold brew your own black (or green) tea, add actual hunks of pineapple fruit in there, add some orange juice, add some honey, add some coconut milk or sweetened condensed milk, whatever sounds good! (Also, pairing pineapple tea with coconut cookies? SO GOOD.) Put mint in the pineapple cubes if you like mint! Add a bit of boiled ginger root or some brown sugar and cinnamon for a little kick! Heck, last summer I used blue peaflower star-shaped ice cubes just because they were pretty.

(Peaflower petals don't taste like much, but they make a GORGEOUS blue, and if you put something acidic in there like lemon juice IT TURNS PINK. :D)

🍓Strawberry Tea🍓

I find this stuff sort of difficult to find where I live, so often I go the same route as the pineapple tea: grab a jug of black tea, grab a jug of strawberry juice, (ocean spray has a really nice cran-strawberry one I like) freeze the juice, mix, and enjoy. Super simple.

If I can't find strawberry juice, I dice some strawberries up and put it in a jar with some water and a bit of sugar for a few hours, then add *that* to the tea. (heck, it's really nice all by itself!)

What goes with strawberry? ANY DANG THING YOU WANT. I am particularly fond of lychee. Jasmine tea and rose petals pair really well with it too. Again, if you like mint, it's *really* nice with strawberry. And you know how if you put black pepper on strawberries they taste even strawberrier? (If you haven't tried this, go do it, it's magic.) Same goes with the tea, add some peppercorns or a teeny bit of chili powder or some ginger.

If you wanna drink it hot or cold brew a batch of your own, here are some brands that are also nice:

1. Strawberry Sensation

2. Adagio Strawberry Tea (this is also where I got the peaflower petals)

3. Any of Lupicia's Strawberry Teas they are HEAVENLY

🍏Apple Tea🍏

As with the pineapple and strawberry teas, it's totally fine to just go find some ready-made tea and mix it with some apple cider or apple juice for tasty low spoons fun. If you drink it iced, a bit of sugar and lemon juice brings out the apple flavor nicely!

I prefer drinking this stuff hot though. You know that Fall Drink post that was floating around? IF YOU HAVEN'T YET, TRY IT, IT'S AWESOME.

☕Chai Tea☕

So here's the thing about chai for me personally: I don't tend to drink it iced or sugary, but if you do like it iced and sugary, there are a couple of really nice chai tea concentrates:

Oregon Chai Latte

Tazo's Chai Latte (Forget the "skinny" nonsense, I just wanted to include an option with no milk so you can add whatever you want to it)

Pacific Chai isn't concentrated, but you can use it to make hot or iced chai and it's really lovely, not too sweet and super easy to work with. As for dressing up chai, I don't tend to! There's already so much going on with all the flavors, I just drink it as-is most days. Play with milk-to-tea ratios or sugar amounts all you like, figure out what's your jam.

I do know that mixing chai and coffee together (or chai and chocolate together) is guaranteed to make a feeling groovy kind of morning, at least if you have two thumbs and you're me. Iiii think that's all the tea blather I can think of for right now. Thank you for asking, anon, it was fun! Anybody reading this, feel free to add your own favorite things to do with tea. :D

[being-addie]

Morning Routines

We're all looking at those Instagram influencers who somehow manage to wake up at 5 am, do meditation, journal, do a 15-step Korean skincare routine, and go to the gym. And then they make a green smoothie and avocado toast, get dressed in a Chanel outfit and then sit at their fancy desk with a vanilla latte and a croissant.

This is not realistic. You probably already know that, but it likely won't stop you from trying to change your routine bit by bit to look a little like theirs. That didn't stop me, at least.

But now I've come to realise that no matter how much I try, I'll never be able to have a routine like the ones I see online. Because it doesn't exist. It's all curated for aesthetic appeal and generates a sense of false productivity in the watcher's brain. We feel motivated looking at those videos and never get around to changing our own life because we're too busy living vicariously through our phones.

Here's some things you should add to your morning routine, not to be fancy, but to feel better. This is coming from someone who's tried the unrealistic routines, and I now incorporate all of these into my routine. You can skip or add things according to your schedule.

S-T-R-E-T-C-H: Do your body a favour and loosen up your muscles. Nothing better than having a good stretch that wakes your body up.

Drink water: Before you put anything in your system, drink water. Not coffee, not tea. Plain warm water. And I don't mean lemon water. Some people might not agree, but lemon water strips your teeth of the enamel. It also is acidic, so all that bullshit they talk about it being "alkaline and pH balancing" is nonsense. Warm water is the way to go.

Make your bed: A clean bed should be the first thing you do after you wake up. At the end of the day, you'll thank yourself because it will be clean, and fresh and you can fall into bed immediately.

Hygiene: Wash your face to get rid of crusty eyes and sleep. Do a basic skincare routine (cleanser, moisturizer) so you'll feel fresher. Brush your teeth and hair.

Move your body: It doesn't matter what you do, even if it's for 15 minutes. Go for a walk, do a Zumba workout, or squeeze in a HIIT session. You can find lots of tutorials on YouTube (Caroline Girvan, growingannanas, Chloe Ting). Either way, working out will help you feel more motivated and happier. It's the endorphins.

Clean yourself: Set aside some time for showering, slathering on lotion, and doing your (real) skincare and makeup routine. Pick an outfit that makes you feel good about yourself.

Eat something: ALWAYS make some food. Your body has been famished for hours on end, give it some fuel. Make a healthy breakfast, or prep one the night before. If you don't get very hungry in the mornings, have a banana, and pack a mid-morning snack beforehand so you don't reach for chips.

Do 3 things: Make a to-do list of everything you need to do today. Don't overwhelm yourself. Then, knock off 3 easy tasks from the list that you can do quickly. You'll be filled with a sense of motivation, and it'll be easier for you to complete your list. It can be chores, it could be some assigned reading. Just get it done.

Gratitude or prayer: You don't need to sit for 15 minutes to practice gratitude. You can think of things your thankful for on the way to school or work or practice deep breathing/say a small prayer on the subway or bus. You don't HAVE to do it, but it definitely makes you realise how much you have in life and appreciate it more.

Kindness: Start your day with kindness. Compliment your barista, smile at the old lady on the street, pet the stray cat. There's so much love in the world, and you have so much love inside you, and it's beautiful to be a part of it.

No longer will I be stuck in a rut. I cannot be confined to being a bitter, unhealthy person when I know there's a smiling, healthy, happy version of me in the future. Deep breaths. You'll get there babe.

<3

[cottonlemonade]

Hello, can I get a large mocha latte for Ushijima?

Celebrating An Anniversary

word count: 791 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip husband!Ushijima x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with some suggestiveness

warnings: spoilers, mdni, mild swearing

request: fluffy-spicy, celebrating an anniversary with husband Ushijima

“To a wonderful evening.“

Wakatoshi raised his glass. You beamed as you did the same and gently clinked it against his.

The champagne prickled on your tongue and you watched him cut a generous first bite off his steak to then carefully place it on the side of your plate.

“Thank you, honey.“

He smiled, looking satisfied as he began to cut a piece for himself.

“You‘re welcome, sweetheart. And please make sure to order dessert later. You will need your energy as I intend to make love to you often and thoroughly tonight.“

You choked on your next sip of the sparkling wine. The coughing made some other guests turn around in annoyance but you stared incredulously at your husband who, completely unfazed, poured you a glass of water and handed it across the table.

“Uhm, Toshi?”

“Yes, my love?”

Your cheeks were burning and you were glad for the cold water, the glass slightly trembling in your fingers.

“What- I mean. What?”

He furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I mean… you usually don’t uhm… announce something like that.”

“Oh.”, he shrugged and went back to his steak, “I wanted to try something different.”

“Different.”

He nodded and didn’t elaborate.

“So, I'm not complaining - and I will get that dessert later - but what brought this on?”

“I called Satori for advice and he said I should be more open with my intentions towards you. He said that… hm, one moment, sweetheart.”

You watched open mouthed as he reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket that hung over the back of the chair and produced a neatly folded piece of paper. Opening it for reference as it seemed, he read, “Let her know she is desirable by flirting - such as: telling her she looks/smells nice, kissing her in public, letting her know that you can’t wait to be alone with her or - more advanced - let her know you want to sleep with her later that day.” He folded the note again and tucked it away.

Your cheeks were burning and the pasta you had been so eagerly anticipating a few minutes ago, still steamed expectantly but untouched on the plate before you.

Toshi had done all of these things today. Before you left for the restaurant he had complimented both how your dress fit beautifully around your chubby figure and your perfume, had caught you very off guard by kissing you deeply in the parking lot on your way to the door and now this.

“Uhm, could I see that paper for a second, please?“

“Of course.“

He reached back into the pocket and handed it to you.

Clearing your throat you opened it and were stunned by the amount of notes. At the very top were what seemed to be suggestions for date locations for your anniversary.

Toshi had circled “dinner at a fancy restaurant you know she likes“.

Underneath was a myriad of things to do after the date. Some of them sweet, like going for a stroll in the park, but the other 95 percent detailed things to do in the bedroom. All of them circled - some with extra notes next to it explaining what they meant exactly.

“I see.“, you croaked, returning the note. You felt very warm all of the sudden.

Voice shaking a little in your flustered state, you asked, “What brought this on?“

“Do you remember when I went out to have a drink with the team a few weeks ago?“

You nodded.

“At first we talked about volleyball and eventually Hoshiumi-kun moved the conversation to our spouses.“

You nodded again.

“At that point a group of strangers joined the table because nothing else was free. As we talked, they noted that Tobio and I didn't seem to have a lot to offer besides good looks and they wondered how we were even married, since we are so boring.“

You scoffed loudly.

“Oh, just point me in their direction, babe. It‘s on sight.“ How dare these pathetic losers! Your shoulders shook with anger.

“You are not boring, Toshi!“, you said firmly and he looked genuinely surprised at your sudden outburst, “You are loving and wonderful and dependable, you make me laugh and feel safe and if that‘s boring to those jerks then they can just go f- fly a kite!“ Suddenly remembering your surroundings you opted for milder words.

Toshi‘s large warm hand laid itself soothingly over your clenched fist next to your plate, rubbing his thumb gently over your skin.

“Thank you for saying that, sweetheart. I love you.“

“I love you, too.“

“Would you prefer if I‘d dismiss the list?“

“Well… maybe not all of it.“, you winked and he nodded, signaling over a waiter to order extra dessert.

a/n: thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write something for him! Love him ^^ I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[blufox234isadumbname]

what if minecraft mod/plugin/command block youtubers were cafe baristas? (because java joke haha)

fundy was my very first test of the concept a long while ago and hes kinda already perfect to design around because white streaked brown hari already got latte vibes, i made him more furry than i normally do though without long snoot so he kinda has miles tails prower if he was lanky energy (and tbf i want him to be like steampunky engineer design so ths kinda fits). the most prominentschanges is jsut to keep more inline with his skin and add drippy milk (latte compared to cappucino has more milk with little foam) i think my gooper influence is showing here but i digress

doctor4t was my actual second time designing for this concept, cappucino fit him very nice witht eh dress shape. he kinda has that maid cafe inspo behind it which fits. i kinda want to add more patters with hsi dress to be more fancy late table cloth like but this pass is so good and solid in terms of color adn shape

knarfy is my new one and i chose affogato for him, part of me want to give it to mysti instead because cat pun but i chose against cause i think the round shape kinda fits with knarfy's teddy bear thing. hsi outfit is mostly based on old timery ice parlour outfits with teh striped vest and hat, i mostly focused on drizzles and marbleing for that. also spoons, too much spoon dear god

also if youre wondering: mysti is instant coffee or coffee powder kinda based on american diner waitresses with the roller skates, systemzee will be tiramisu animal farmer (pitchfork included), unsure abt eightsidedsquare, MAYBE something like a cold brew idk what kind

[milykins]

This is my first time writing one of these things, so be gentle. I had the idea of how each of the guys would give the reader a hot drink after a hard day. Everyone is aged up in their 30s.

TMNT Headcanon- Hot Drinks - TMNT X female reader

You've had a rough week. Work has been beyond frustrating. You're under-staffed and you've been denied a raise for the second time since you've worked there. To make matters worse, it starts to rain on the way home.

🧡🐢🧡

Mikey jumps up immediately upon seeing the state you're in. He immediately moves to grab you a towel and tells you to go change into some dry clothes. When you emerge, towel-drying your hair, you'll see he's put a very elaborate pillow fort together and has two hot drinks on a tray.

Mikey is a hot chocolate guy, and his recipe is carefully guarded secret. One sip will make it clear that it is the richest, most decadent hot chocolate you've ever tasted. He's also included a can of whipped cream and little bowls with several toppings which include mini marshmallows and sprinkles.

He hands you a cup and asks him to tell you about your day.

💜🐢💜

Donnie starts fussing over you as soon as you walk through the door. He quickly ushers you to the bathroom so you can take a shower and bring up your core body temperature. You do as he says while he brings you a new set of dry clothes.

Once you're out, he pushes a cup of coffee into your hands, made just the way you like it. Donnie is the master of coffee. He's put together a coffee machine that pretty much does it all. It will make lattes, cafe mochas, and even hot chocolate, which Mikey deems a travesty because his is obviously better. Regardless, the coffee he gives you is freshly brewed and you sip it while he rambles on about how important it is to dress properly for the elements and how drinking something hot is the best way to warm up.

You both end up cuddling on the couch while he listens to you rant about your workweek.

💙🐢💙

Leo is the one who quietly wraps a blanket around your shoulders and walks you to the bedroom so you can change. He tells you to meet him in his meditation room once you're finished.

You softly pad your way there once you're dressed. Leo has his teapot ready. It is a beautifully patterned Japanese teapot with a blue swirling design. Leo had found the teapot broken in several pieces while scavenging and had repaired it using the gold kintsugi method. The repair process he tells you is a reminder to embrace your flaws rather than hide them for you are beautiful regardless.

Leo has an entire cupboard dedicated to his many blends of loose-leaf tea. His favourites are jasmine and gunpowder green. He's chosen a gentle blend for you, not too caffeinated, and has included a small bottle of honey so you can sweeten it as you like.

He pours it into a matching teacup and asks how your day went.

❤️🐢❤️

Upon seeing you, Raph knows you need something stronger than some weak-ass tea. He tells you to go change and goes to fix something up for you.

Raph, by no means, is an expert in the kitchen, but he knows how to use Donnie's fancy coffee machine. He doesn't actually drink a lot of coffee. He prefers his protein shakes in the morning. He knows you like lattes, though, and asks the machine to make one of those. He sweetens it with some caramel syrup and adds a shot of Bailey's. He sips it and gets a smile of satisfaction, deeming it perfect.

Instead of you finding him, he finds you in a state of undress. He smirks slightly and admires you a moment while he waits for you to finish dressing. He hands you the cup warning you that it might be hot and to blow on it slightly.

The shot of Bailey's warms you up instantly, and it's delicious with a fine layer of froth on top. You joke that he should try doing some latte art next time. He laughs and says fat chance of that. You both move to the bed and cuddle while he asks how you're doing.

End

Edit* this is how I picture Leo's teapot

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Zephrit coffee shop AU ??? Anyone ???

"New costumer for you, 'Frit."

Ifrit looks up from the coffee he's making, shooting Ivy a suspicious look.

"Why aren't you taking their order ?"

Ivy holds out a pack of cigarette, waving it in the air as he unties his apron. His smirk immediately makes the hair at the back of Ifrit's neck stand.

"Smoke break. I'll be back soon, don't miss me too much !"

"Since when do you smoke-"

Too late, Ivy already disappeared behind the "employees only" door with an omnious cackle. Sighing as dread fills his nervous system, Ifrit straightens up, calls out the name scrawled in Ivy's barely legible handwritting on the cup, wincing when the girl who takes the latte from his hands corrects his pronounciation.

She visibly softens and waves it off the second she catches sight of his apologetic smile. Ivy calls it "their best publicity", that sparkling grin that never leaves people indifferent.

Once that's done, Ifrit saunters back toward the counter.

"Hi, what can I get you-"

He falters, blood rushing to his cheeks in an instant, words dying in his throat. There, leaning on a cane covered in stickers, hair held back in intricated braids tied together, wearing black slacks and a dress shirt to match it, is a familiar face, grey eyes widening in amused surprise when they meet Ifrit's.

The sight of this person makes phantom hands roam all over Ifrit's body, and oh, what a mistake it is to throw a quick glance at their lips - now Ifrit can recall their taste, the feeling of them on his. Fuck fuck fuck. Ifrit knows this person.

"Ifrit," they chuckle, and the man in question has no idea if they just read his nametag or remember the short, hurried conversation they had before getting each other off in a bar's dingy bathroom. Last night. Because Ifrit has the worst karma ever known to mankind.

Though he certainly hasn't forgotten the person's name.

"...Zephyr."

They hum, tilting their head, eyes crinkling in the corner. The first two buttons of their shirt are open, their sleeves rolled up to accomodate the pleasant weather, and Ifrit has to advert his eyes lest his thought take a lustful turn.

"Fancy seeing you here," Zephyr lilts, voice wrapping around Ifrit's brain just like it did last night, except today he doesn't even have the booze to blame for the way his knees immediately go a little weak at that.

"I...well, I work here," Ifrit blurts out, wincing the second the words are out of his mouth. Great. Where is his easy charm when he needs it ? Just like yesterday night, all of it vanishes once faced by Zephyr.

Leaning their forearms against the counter and lowering their voice to a teasing croon, smirk tucked in the corner of their mouth, they chuckle.

"I trust you got home safely last night then."

Oh Ifrit was not ready for such an easy acknowledgement of what happened the night before. In such a smooth voice too, shit Ifrit already misses feeling their skin on his. He's so fucked.

"Uh- I- yeah, Ivy drove me home."

Ivy. The little shit was there yesterday too, saw Ifrit excuse himself at Zephyr's arm...well, his newly developped smoking habits make sense now, at least.

Zephyr is smiling, but it's not mocking, more like endeared. Ifrit clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

"I- uhm. Your order ?"

Stringing words together in a coeherent sentence has never been more difficult.

"Caramel macchiato, please. And, I suppose, your number would be nice, since I forgot to ask yesterday."

Ifrit resists the sudden urge to run around and jump with excitement. He's sure his smile threatens to rip his face in half with how wide it has become.

"That I can do. Be right back."

He rushes toward the back room under Zephyr's amused stare, letting the door fall shut behind him before he let out a strangled little noise of pure delight and allows himself to jump once or twice. Then he grabs a pen - there were some near the cups on the counter, but Ifrit really needed a moment to collect himself - and saunters back out, scribbling his number on an old receipe while starting the coffee machine. He checks twice to ensure he hasn't made any mistakes and the numbers are all neatly written, before handing it to Zephyr with a cheeky grin.

Their fingers overlap, purposefully if Zephyr's smirk is anything to go by, Ifrit's heart skipping a bit.

"Something on my face ?" they tease at Ifrit's blatant staring.

"Hard to keep my eyes in check with the outrageous knowledge that your forearms are bare," he hums in answer, pointedly checking Zephyr out. "Formal clothes suit you,"

They raise an eyebrow, cheeks tinged pink too, now.

"That so ? Should have known you'd like it. You have a thing for authority, don't you ?"

Ifrit nearly chokes on air, the memory of that same voice curling around the words "good boy" right in his ear making him feel dizzy.

He remembers the coffee just in time, using it as an excuse to turn away, hopefully hidding the worse of his blush. And if he draws a little heart while drizzling caramel in the cup, well, that's his problem.

Zephyr swipes their thumb across the back of Ifrit's hand when they take the cup handed to them, which has him holding back a honest-to-god squeal.

"Thank you, Ifrit. Expect a text from me, I'm not busy today," Zephyr smiles as they take their order to a nearby table.

Ifrit needs to scream, and is also wondering how he'll go through his shift feeling those grey eyes weight on his back.

"What the fuck are you doing, man ?"

Ivy's voice interrupts Ifrit's musing ; apparently he's been back from his break for a little while, now staring at Ifrit like he just said something incredibly stupid.

"What ?"

Ivy rolls his eyes, grabs Ifrit by the shoulders, and shakes him none-too-gently.

"They just told you they weren't busy, dumbass. Go sit with them ! Pebble came in early, he's in the back room, he'll cover for you, go !"

Ifrit catches a glimpse of a purple bruise on Ivy's neck then, half-hidden by his hair, which makes him snort.

"Came in early, mmh ? You ran into him during your...smoke break, V ?"

Ivy glares at him, pratically shoving him toward Zephyr's table.

"Shut up you cunt, go get 'em instead of pestering me."

Ifrit's still laughing when he drops in the seat facing Zephyr, stomach flipping under their intense stare.

He's never felt more alive.

[trtlebuns]

Who would’ve thought?

Random things about T141 + Alejandro & Köing

Tags: Fluff and cursing (maybe?)

Alejandro Vargas

my man my man my man!!!!

Alejandro HATES!!! Spicy foods, even though he is Mexican and grew up in a Mexican household he CANNOT handle anything spicy

Wakes up at 6:45 everyday

His comfort clothing includes: a tank top or T-shirt with grey joggers and black/socks

He would often cook the meals (very house husband of him)

Hates alcoholic beverages, like he’ll drink them but won’t enjoy them

Favorite color is: Rosewood Pink

Favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry

He doesn’t wear cologne

He takes his skin care VERY serious

When he’s angry or excited he would talk in his native tongue

Will call out of work if his hair isn’t “hairing”

Likes to kiss you on the forehead near your edges

Likes to watch you get dressed

Wants to have a big family

If he could be any cartoon character he would be Milo from fish hooks

Has a tattoo of your initial behind his ear

Köing

Listens to lofi and jazz

A light sleeper

Hates pickles

Wears his mask in public but at home he wears a big sweater with a large hood to hide most of his face (specifically a deep purple sweater)

Likes all of the avengers movies and if one is coming out he would buy tickets in advance (like 3-6 months in advance)

Likes strawberry milk but is severely lactose intolerant

Hates raisins but likes grapes

His comfort outfit would be: at home, a onesie to match yours or if in public ( like he goes out there willingly) would be a hoodie and joggers with crocs

Enjoys putting on his eye makeup while you do your makeup

Still doesn’t know what “beat this face to the gods” mean, even though you only say it when you do your makeup

Is happy with being with you and having a cat or two (or any small animal of your choice)

Prefers to eat ketchup with anything

Likes sardines

Likes to hug you from the back

Favorite color is: Mulberry Purple

He wears your initial as a chain

Has a dad sneeze

GHOST (Simon Riley)

Hates anything super sweet or sweeting in general

Prefers coffee (black) over tea, but would drink it if it’s the only thing around

He likes pumpkin spice lattes (yes he’s a basic bi- brit 🫣)

Secretly adds weapons to you car every time he gets in it

Like why do you have a knife in your cup holder?? How did that get there, you wonder

Orders steak every time you guys eat out anywhere “fancy”

Wears a face mask when he’s out

Your nickname for him is “beady eyed brit”

Only kisses you on the cheek and the temple

He rolls his eyes at everything

“Omg mon, you didn’t have to get me this??” You said happily as you hugged Simon. “I wouldn’t have gotten it, if you didn’t stop pestering me about it” He sighed and rolled his eyes knowing that he would buy you the world if you only mentioned it once

He loves peppermints

He likes to watch you…just do you

You’re in the kitchen? Boom, he’s leaning on the fridge watching you. You’re in the bathroom fixing your hair, Boom, he’s sitting on the toilet seat just staring. You’re walking around talking on the phone? Boom, he’s right there in arms distance listening and watching you. Just watching

He listens to classical music

Comfort fit: anything that’s lying on the floor closest to him or anything that seems comfy to him, could be shorts and a shirt or joggers and topless as long as he’s comfy he don’t care

Prefers to be just with you but wouldn’t mind stretching the family

He likes to skip rocks

He knows how to skateboard

Weirdly obsessed with peanut butter because of the “protein”

Favorite color is: Juniper Green

He goes makeup shopping with you because you need to know what type of eye makeup he wears that lasts through literal war

SOAP (Johnny Mactavish)

Hates coconut flavored anything! It could artificial or down to the real deal he HATES IT

Likes to yell at the tv

Must take a bite of your food, it doesn’t matter if you both have the same thing or not. He needs a bite and his reasoning is “I’m testing for poison”

Get you a man who CARES!

Would rate your burps out of 10

Let’s you paint his nails

He spills the tea and so do you

Johnny bursts through the door, and started you “BIIIIIIITCH!!!” Johnny says as he shakes his head walks towards you, you already know the tea is piping HOT! “Let me tell you what price done said over the phone just now” he says as he props down on the bed and you get into a sitting position “I’m all ears babe” you get ready for the most juiciest information of you life

Likes to pee/shit while you’re in the bathroom (it’s his favorite activity)

He rock climbs for a hobby

Favorite color is: Coin Silver

Always calls and never text in advance that he needs to talk

Comfort outfit: pajama bottoms, bunny slippers, and topless or a tanktop

Likes to sleep in cold temperatures

Tackles you with hugs and kisses whenever he sees you

You’re on the phone trying to pay a bill? Boom, he’s right next to you kissing your head and hugging you from the back. You’re trying to get ready for work? Boom, you’re making out and now you gotta call off work…AGAIN!

Listens to a lot of Megan thee stallion because he heard you playing thot shit

Hates the texture of cottage cheese

He’s a horrible cook and so are you, but you both try your best and end up ordering out

Likes to throw things at you and act as if he had no idea what you’re talking about when you ask if he threw something at you

“Ow, what the fu-“ you say as you scratch your head and look at the ground and see an orange crayon on the floor. You look up and see Johnny at the table with a coloring book and crayons “J did you just throw this at me” you question as you raise the crayon. He looks and you and you look at him… “I have no idea what you’re talking about” he says calmly as he goes back to coloring. You sigh, “then how did this get over here?” You roll your eyes and put your hand on your hip. “It must’ve been already over there” he shrugs while continuing his activity with a small smirk pulling at his lips

Likes to eat haggis ( Scottish bastard )

Knows how to play the flute

He would like to have 3 kids and 2 dogs (specifically a Rottweiler and Doberman)

[vivwritesfics]

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Nine - Positive

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner), talks of non consensual groping. she gets called a whore, choking, SA, 'missing' birth control, blood, pregnancy, hint at child abuse (not explicitly written)

Series Masterlist

There was three days of nothing from her. Three days that she sat on the couch. Bob left food on the coffee table, but it would have been a miracle if she ate it.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn't even touch her without her flinching away from him. Gone was the girl in the coffee shop, the one who dressed like a grandpa and got her fancy hazelnut latte with oat milk.

Still, he sat with her, close enough to touch if she wanted to. It was all on her terms, and Bob wasn't going to push her. He'd never push her.

She wouldn't take his bed, instead curling up on the couch with Frodo. No matter how much Bob insisted, she wouldn't take it. And, instead of pushing her (He'd never do that, remember?) he cleaned out his spare room. The boxes of shit he'd been meaning to throw away since he arrived in North Island, he finally had an excuse to sort it all.

She wasn't herself, but at least she took the spare bed. She had also started wearing Bob's clothes, neither of them wanting to go back to that apartment. But if she'd asked him, Bob would have. In a heartbeat he would have.

But he didn't much mind her wearing his clothes. It was a nice sight, a woman wrapped up in his jumper or his naval academy shirts.

The hardest part about living with her was pretending he didn't hear the nightmares. Scenes of her abuse, of her abuser playing over in her head while she slept. When she had her first nightmare, Bob had run to her on the couch, wrapped his arms around her as he tried to wake her up. But that had made everything so much worse, with her desperately pushing him away.

After a week of living with him, of wearing his clothes and sharing his space, she finally laid her hand on top of his.

Bob had brought her food. A simple sandwich and something to drink. He placed it on the coffee table and gave her a moment to say something, anything.

But she was silent, staring ahead. Bob turned to leave. He wasn't annoyed, but sad. He didn't think he'd miss her this much when she was in the same room.

As he turned to walk back into the kitchen. She grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Thank you," she whispered, eyes pleading. Bob could only guess as to what she was pleading for. It was understanding she needed, and it was understanding she was going to get.

The second week came and went. Bob didn't make a comment about how she hadn't gone into work. Hadn't been able to contact them without a phone. It was on that second week that Bob realised she hadn't contacted anyone. None of her family, friends, knew she was staying with him.

At the end of the second week, she realised something. How long had it been since she had her period? The pill would have stopped her cycle, sure, but she should have been back on it by now, right? Then, why the hell wasn't she?

She didn't remember walking to the store while Bob was at work, didn't know how she got there. Her mind was blank as she bought the tests and headed back to Bob. It never hit her how long the walk was, didn't hit her that her legs were aching.

But she sat in the bathroom, looking at the three tests in her hands.

Fucking positive. All of them. She stared and stared, back against the bathtub.

It wasn't real, couldn't have been real.

Time passes weirdly when you're in that sort of state. Unaware of her surroundings she sat there for hours.

She didn't hear it when Bob opened the front door, didn't hear it when Bob called her name. She didn't answer as he ran around, desperately searching for her. Even when he stepped into the bathroom, it was like she didn't know.

Not until he was crouched in front of her, concern written on his face. "Talk to me," he said gently, before he looked down at the plastic sticks in her hands.

He sucked in a sharp breath. As gently as he could, Bob took the tests from her hands. He'd expected that to have her flinching, but she was still. "It's okay," he whispered, placing his hands into her own.

The first tear fell, but she was still silent. Bob was careful as he reached up and wiped it away. When he pulled away, she followed him, chasing after his touch until she was resting against him.

Bob didn't move her from the bathroom floor, not yet. He sat beside her with his back against the bath tub and pulled her into his side. With her head against his chest, she let herself cry. Sobs shook her body, but Bob didn't get go at her, fingers moving up and down her spine.

He didn't say anything, and for that she was grateful. He just let her cry until she had no more tears to fall. And then, when she was still, tears no longer rolling down her cheeks, Bob looked over to the tests he had discarded on the floor.

Positive. They were both positive.

He didn't ask the obvious question, didn't ask her what she wanted to do as he helped her stand and led her to the couch. Her legs shook with every step, and he didn't blame her. He couldn't imagine it, being tied to someone like that.

Especially not someone like Ken.

Bob sat her down and wrapped her in a blanket. He turned towards the kitchen as she pulled the blanket closer, held it tighter. But he didn't get very far before she was grabbing him, pulling him back. "Stay," she croaked, eyes desperate, pleading.

He crouched in front of her and kissed the back of her hand. "Let me get you some water, doll," he whispered, the nickname slipping through.

She nodded and, reluctantly, let go of him. Bob was as quick as he could, poured the water into a mug and walked it back over to her.

He sat beside her and handed the water. Watching the way her hands shook as she lifted it to her lips, he knew he'd made the right choice in the mug.

"Can... we watch something?" She asked, her voice somewhat hesitant.

Bob swallowed down a shuddering breath. "Sure we can," he said, voice soft, as if she was some kind of frightened animal. Essentially, she was. Any louder and Bob was sure she would have been hiding back in the bathroom.

He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and sat back beside her, arm resting on the back of the couch. If she wanted to curl into him he could, but it was completely down to her. "What do you want to watch, Doll?"

"Star Wars?" She asked, looking down at her stolen shirt. How long until it stopped fitting? How long until she had a bump stretching out Han Solo's face? Her eyes shut at the thought.

Bob nodded his head. "What are you thinking, original trilogy or prequels?"

"Not the sequels?"

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that."

She giggled, actually giggled, at him. "Fucking dork," she giggled and leaned against him.

It was a stark contrast to the scene Bob had come home to. She had her head on his shoulder, legs over his lap as they made their way through the original Star Wars trilogy.

Bob opened his mouth, ready to spill some movie trivia, but he held back. That wasn't what she needed now.

"No, say it, Floyd," she mumbled as her fingers absentmindedly played with the bottom of his shirt.

He didn't hold back after that. No, he told her every piece of Star Wars trivia he knew.

After they'd gotten through A New Hope, Bob started on Empire Strikes Back as he went to make dinner. It was simple, just egg on toast. All that mattered to Bob was that she ate it; he could make something proper tomorrow.

But, when he returned to the couch, she was already asleep, curled around the spot where he was. The space was still there for him, ready to slip back into. He let out a sigh as he placed her plate onto the coffee table and gently shook her shoulder. "C'mon, Doll. Y' need to wake up and eat something."

She opened her eyes and stared at him. "There y' are," he said with a small smile. Bob grabbed the plate from the coffee table and placed it in her lap. "Eat up, you can sleep after."

"Okay," she squeaked and dug in.

She didn't finish all of it, but that was okay. As soon as she was done and holding up her stomach, Bob took the plate and put it on the coffee table. He slipped back into his seat and she fell against him once again, promptly falling asleep.

"Ready?" Bob asked as he pulled the truck up around the corner from her old apartment.

The apartment Ken still lived in.

Sucking in a breath, she rested her hand on her swollen stomach and nodded. When had she gotten this big? It was like she had ballooned over night. With every touch the baby was kicking. She couldn't have been that far along yet, could she?

She looked at Bob as his hand came to rest on her bulging stomach.

She nodded and Bob climbed out of the truck. He opened her door, took her hand and helped her step out. "You've got this," he said, his hand squeezing hers.

But she didn't have this. She couldn't have had this. This was maybe the scariest thing she'd ever done.

Bob stayed behind her as she walked up the stairs to her old apartment. Even half way up the stairs she was already exhausted. Bob simply took her hand and supported her to the door of her own apartment.

She couldn't bring herself to knock on the door. She raised her fist, but could go much further than that. Desperately she turned to the man sweet man beside her. "I-I can't."

But Bob was happy to do it for her. He knocked on the door, remaining beside her as Ken pulled the door open.

Ken, who she hadn't spoken to since Bob, Jake and Bradley had saved her from the apartment. She thought it had only been a number of weeks, but, looking at her stomach, it could have been a full nine months.

"Holy shit," said Ken as he crushed the beer can in his hands.

Bob couldn't help but clench his jaw as he looked at Ken. That asshole, the reason she was knocked up and miserable. The baby was probably going to come out with red devil horns, a tail, and a want to set things on fire.

He looked at her, completely ignoring Bob. "She's just here for her stuff," Bob said, but Ken was still ignoring him.

"Come here, Barbie." He reached his hand out towards her and grabbed a hold of her wrists. His grip was so tight, she couldn't pull back if she tried. But she wasn't trying. Why wasn't she trying? Why wasn't she desperate to get away from him?

And why wasn't Bob helping her?

He just watched as Ken pulled her into the apartment and shut the door. Bob was still on the other side of the door when Ken hit her again.

And then she went into labour. Ken watching as she struggled on the floor, Bob on the other side of the door, not trying to get in and help her.

And then she had the screaming, crying bundle in her arms. But, when she looked down at her baby, there were no devil horns and she didn't have a tail. She was a perfect little girl.

But she couldn't protect her from Ken.

Taglist: @nurse-sainz

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@littlemsbumblebee

@wretchedmo

@imaginecrushes

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@teacupsandtopgun

@finnydraws

@writtingrose

@afriendlyneighbourhoodhufflepuff

@mp0625

@els-marvelvsp

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Closing In

Leon follows reader home...

Note: thank you to anon for suggesting this premise, ohhhh I did not realize how much I would like writing this - and thank you everyone for your patience!

Content: 3.9 k words, 18+, cnc with enthusiastic consent, stalking roleplay, slasher roleplay, home invasion roleplay, denial, rough sex, taunting, humiliation, crying, overstim, sadism/masochism, Slasher!Leon, obsessed Leon, LeonxReader, fem reader, no y/n. 

-

"I dunno, I just think it's kind of romantic," you say. Your hands fiddle nervously with the tassels on your throw pillow.

"He was a stalker, babe." Leon's voice hides just a hint of amusement. "He cut women up."

"Okay, but besides that-"

"Besides the... The serial killing."

"Yes! Besides the serial killing."

Leon stared at you, an eyebrow arched in judgement. You tried to stay straight faced - by God, you tried - but he had a way of half-smirking his way past your mask with his annoying, pretty face.

"Look, I'm just saying," you roll your eyes, not even sure why you keep talking, "something about... Obsessing over someone like that is kiiind of romantic. What's the point of love if it doesn't make you a little crazy? Y'know? Anne Rice would agree with me."

"Anne Rice was horny for a Confederate twink," he points out.

You gawk for a moment. But like, he's kind of right. So instead of saying anything clever, you throw the pillow at him. He deflects it with his forearm, but that gives you the opening to jump on him. You're wrestling in no time, breathless and sweaty and... Moving against each other...

-

You're out for lunch with your friend, Jessie, at some too-fancy Parisian style café. You sip a caramel iced latte and share a plate of rose coloured macarons. She complains about her studies, you complain about work, and you both come to the resounding agreement that deadlines suck. She complains about her last date, some butch that was more well-read than her that accidentally made her feel stupid. You don't have the heart to tell her that they sounded cool as hell. You tip-toe around telling her about Leon. It's not that you weren't proud of him, it was just... With the nature of his job, what were you going to say? Yeah, I'm seeing this guy who has a gun case built into the dresser and is super paranoid about people visiting his place and won't tell me what he does but he's like, totally a sweet guy and not some psycho? Yeah. Okay.

You stretch, appreciating the summer sun on your limbs and the peaceful breeze around your skirt. Your phone rings. Jessie snatches it up before you have a chance to, and then gives you the most scandalous, shit-eating grin you've ever seen.

"No. Don't you dare-!"

"Hiiiii lover boy," she coos over the phone.

Oh fuck, kill me.

"Jessie, give me the phone!" You reach across the table, the ceramic plate between you clattering loudly against the glass table. You freeze, feeling eyes on you. Jessie opens her mouth in mock embarrassment.

"So you're the secret boyfriend that my best friend keeps hiding from me?"

"Jessie, come on."

She listens for a moment, then laughs. You get up from your chair and walk over to her while she tries to twist away from your grasp.

"mhm, mhm - oh, sorry, I think someone wants to talk to y-"

You finally snatch it from her grasp. You give her a stare with the intensity of someone who can kill by staring. You try to keep your voice as flat as possible.

"Hey, sorry about that. What's up?"

"Is that Jessie?" He asks. He's got that... Quirk in his voice. The one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can feel Jessie watching you and try to keep it cool.

"Yeah, sorry, she's like, literally five years old sometimes."

"She seems fun."

"Babe, I'm kinda busy, did you have a reason for-"

"That's a pretty dress you're wearing."

You freeze halfway to sitting back down in your chair. Jessie tilts her head, giving you that concerned-puppy-dog face she did when she knew something was up.

You clear your throat and find it suddenly dry. You sit back down but you're a little clumsy, your skirt getting caught on the arm rests. You snatch it back, and then trying to regain your cool, you take a sip from your iced latte. You hear him chuckle on the other end. Did it get cold all of a sudden?

"What, uh, what do you mean by that?"

You can practically hear him grin into the receiver.

"I mean," he says, drawing out every syllable. "I can see you. And you look pretty today. That skirt will roll up pretty easy-"

You hang up on him. Mostly in panic. There was no way you were going to do that in public! Your eyes scan the area around you. Pretty cafe patio, pretty park across the street, some people going about their daily business. You can't see him anywhere. He must be fucking with you. He must have known you were going to wear a dress, it's so hot out, and where would he even be hiding?

A cold hand touches yours and you almost jump out of your skin. Jessie's taking your hand in hers, and when you meet her gaze, she looks like she's about to cry.

"I'm so sorry if I caused any issues between you, I totally shouldn't have answered it. I didn't think he'd like, get angry with you," she starts to wetly babble, swaying between guilty and protective. You love her very much, but you don't know what to say.

Oh, it's just this weird sex game we play, I promise this brooding dude who you've never met and only spoken to once is definitely a good guy and not like emotionally abusive.

"Hey, hey, Jessie. Don't worry about it. It wasn't about that he's got this... Thing. Unrelated. But uh, look, I have to go."

She frowns, almost curving her pink lip-glossed mouth into a pout.

"If he so much as leaves a scratch on you, I will kill him."

Your thoughts flit to the bite marks and bruises that are just covered by your dress. If only she knew.

You kiss her cheek, snatch up one final macaron, and take your leave. You try to control your pace, look cool, act natural. Your eyes scan the buildings and alleyways around you. You seriously can't find him.

Your phone rings.

You stare at it for a moment. Your hands are shaking a little when you answer it.

"It's sweet how much she cares about you," he says. An idea dawns on you. You nod and give an mhm sound, listening around you for anything noticeable. A church bell rings just ahead of you and you hear it echo over the phone.

"You're close," you say. You try to sound threatening. He just laughs at you.

"Obviously. How else would I know you're wearing that citrus perfume I love?"

"I wear that everyday." Your voice shakes as you speak, and you can't help but whip your head around. You half expect to see him there, but it's just some guy who gives you a dirty look.

"No, you don't. You only wear it when you're going to see friends. You usually wear the vanilla one. You like that it's so subtle."

You're a little impressed he noticed that. It was kind of sweet, really, if he wasn't totally freaking you out. How did he possibly get close enough to smell your perfume without you noticing?  You start walking again. You want to catch the train home. Maybe you can trap him there.

You use the shop windows as you pass to get a better look, pretending to window shop.

"Do you think I'd look good in that," you ask, with no idea what you're referring to. You're looking past whatever is behind the glass to observe the reflection. A spot of blonde hair, maybe... He got a totally different hair cut? No. Not him.

"Using the reflection. Clever."

He hangs up.

You spin around again, desperately searching the crowd. He was a beefy guy and he moved like a panther, there's no way he was just casually blending in. But, you can't find him.

You wrap your arms around your core. Knowing you're being watched makes you want to shrink into yourself. Yet you can't ignore the excitement you feel. It was kind of romantic, really. Kind of dangerous.

You liked Leon best when he was dangerous.

You set off again, somehow walking a knife's edge between nervous and confident. Both prey and prize. You keep looking over your shoulder as you pass into the crowded underground of the subway station. It's right around rush hour and it's so packed you can hardly move. Other people are breathing your oxygen and you're just recycling theirs. It's tight, and hot, and moving at the exact speed that makes you feel like no one is really getting anywhere. You pull your purse tight to your body and try to shove past people, only to be confronted with more people.

Your phone rings. You hang up. And then, in a stroke of brilliance, you call back.

His ringtone echoes out in the tiled halls. You try desperately to find it, but it only rings out twice, then it's lost in the sea of people.

"Clever," his voice is deep on the other end. "I'm almost impressed."

"Yeah. Why don't you stop hiding?"

"Oh, I know you're eager, but I didn't think you'd want me to cut you up in this crowd."

He's impatient. You can tell by the sharpness of his voice that he's more frustrated than he admits. The threat sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but picture yourself bent over on the filthy tile floor, knife to your throat, fucked within an inch of your life as people step past. The ebb and flow of the crowd pushes you towards the oncoming subway.

"What exactly is your plan?" He asks. You can hear the screeching brakes over the phone. "I know you take the 76 Southbound until Queen Street. I know you get off and walk two blocks to George Street. I know you live in a turn of the century brownstone with a heritage plaque and bathroom sink that takes forever to drain."

You step onto the 76 Southbound near the front. You press your back to the wall and watch as people get on.

"Yeah, well," you say victoriously, "I know you have to go the same way."

And then you see him. He walks directly into your trap, and realizes it too late. His blue eyes widen in realization. The door slams shut behind him.

You hang up.

Some people pile up in front of you, giving you cover from him. You watch him from behind shoulders and under arms. Open, navy bomber jacket and a grey t-shirt with black jeans doesn't exactly scream slasher killer. But, something about how casual he looks keeps your attention. He blends in, he's unsuspecting. And, to your surprise, he's grinning like a fox.

He's broad, and when he moves through the crowd, people make room for him. He scans every seat and every face with purpose. Inching his way towards the back. You realize you have nowhere to go. You start to panic. Maybe you get off a stop early? And then what, he beats you to your house and waits for you?

No, you have to get home before he does. Lock the doors before he can get in. You push closer to the door so you can be the first one off. You turn to track his progress and directly meet his gaze.

Fuck.

His expression drops, his eyes glaring at you from under his brow. You're almost hypnotized by them, frozen in place while he cuts through the crowd.

You're pinned down with nowhere to go. But, surely, nothing will happen in public, right?

He pushes past a few more people and then he's on you. He towers above you, his broad shoulders cutting out other's view of you. You notice how his t-shirt clings to his body. How well fitting his jeans are. You also notice the angry squint in his eyes from under his brow.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" He brings a hand down to touch your hip, holding it in his grasp. You quiver against him as he leans down, close enough to whisper in your ear. "Don't you know I’ll always find you?"

You turn your head away from him defiantly. Your eyes scan the train, but passengers nearby don't seem to notice. They all have that vacant long-day- commute stare.

"No one's going to help you, sweetheart." He closes in, one arm rests on the wall beside you, his body angled to ensure prying eyes can't see. His free hand slides up your body. It caresses the curves of your hips, the softness of your tummy, the round of your breast.

You flush. Your hands come up to his chest as if that will stop him from pawing at your tits.

"Leon, seriously? Here?" You whisper it, completely embarrassed.

"I can take you whenever I want." He uses that commanding voice you've only heard a handful of times before. "You're mine."

To prove his point, his hand dips between your thighs, and he presses his fingers against your pussy over the fabric of your skirt. It's so sudden and strong, your hand goes to his wrist on instinct. He doesn't stop, rubbing hard enough to make your legs shake.

"Could probably take you right here," he mutters, his breath hot on your ear. You feel yourself get wet at the thought.

"Queen Street." The robotic, automated subway voice chimes out from overhead.

The door opens. You lose your balance, but manage to recover quickly. You move fast, hoping to put as much distance between yourself and Leon as you can. You take the stairs two at a time until you breach the surface, taking in the fresh air like it would save you. But the summer heat brokers no peace, and you know Leon isn't far behind.

You don't look behind you for fear of slowing down. You take one block normally, then decide to cut through an alley way to save time. Every minute was another he could be gaining on you.

As you take a few paces into the alley, your hair starts to stand on end. It's somehow darker here, the smell of mildew and gasoline making your stomach turn. Your cell phone rings. You answer.

"Stop calling!" You snap, betraying more fear than you mean to.

"An alleyway? You're smarter than this." Leon is unphased by your outburst.

You give in, turning your head to look behind you. He stands at the other end, the sun behind him obscuring his features.

Then he moves. With long, easy strides, he makes ground quickly. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he whistles a slow, off-beat tune. 

You turn and run. Your hand meets the corner at the end of the alley and you use it to redirect your momentum. Full tilt sprinting in a sundress down a public street in the middle of the day probably makes you look crazy. Leon made you look crazy.

You get to your brownstone on George Street. You take the few steps up to the front door. You throw your phone in your purse as you frantically rip through it for your keys.

Fuck, come on, where are they? Lipstick, tampon, water bottle, wallet FUCK! There. You snatch them up like they'll save your life. Your hands shake as you put them in the lock. It turns, and you take one last look to see Leon - oh shit!

He's at the base of the stairs! He takes them by two. You manage to get the door open wide enough to barely squeeze through. His hand slaps against the door but you throw your full weight against it. It slams in his face. He turns the knob. You struggle to hold it against him as you turn the dead bolt. Then the chain. He slams a fist against the door and you slowly back away from it.

A chilling thought dawns on you.

Back door.

You run to the other side of the house, tripping over shoes and a discarded purse as you do, cursing as they steal precious seconds from you. You turn the corner and run directly into the door. Your body stings from the impact. You shakily turn the lock.

Silence. For a few, long minutes, there's just silence. You wonder, disappointed, if he gave up, but take the time to catch your breath.

Your cell phone rings. Sweat rolls down your back as you answer it.

"I got you, motherfucker."

"Did you?" He asks. His voice is cool. Calm. "How confident are you that you got to the back door before I did?"

"I would have heard you come in." You aren't so sure.

"Would you?"

Your apartment is small. You approach the bedroom, then quickly snap the door open. It lies still. Empty.

"You don't scare me," you lie.

"I really almost had you there, didn't I?" He's calling your bluff as you move into the kitchen, "What do you think I would have done if I'd caught up to you?"

The kitchen is still and quiet too. You don't have an answer for him, anxiety knotting in your stomach. You take the turn into the living room.

His arms wraps around your waist with enough strength to lift you off the ground. You scream. You kick at him, but he doesn't budge, dragging you into the living room.

You see a window open.

"Did you climb the fucking trellis?" You ask, shocked and amused at the sight. He tries not to laugh.

"Yeah."

"What are you, Romeo?"

"You said you wanted romance," and then, his voice drops again to that cold, serious tone that makes you feel like prey, "isn't this what you wanted?"

He lets you go and you take the opportunity to run. But his hand is entangled in your hair, the sharp pain making you cry out. Tears gather in your eyes and you whimper. You grab his forearm and try to pull away, but the self-inflicted pain makes you freeze. He rolls his eyes.

"You're just so fucking predictable."

He drags you across the living room floor. It hurts, bare knees roughly hitting the hard wood floor. He lifts you up with an arm around your stomach. Then, he's bending you over the couch.

You try to push back against it. You struggle against him. He pulls your head back by the hair and you nearly sob.

"Please, don't," you whimper. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Not our safe word, sweetheart."

His words make you feel so beautifully helpless. The tears finally fall down your cheeks and, at the same time, you become aware of how soaked your cotton underwear is. His hand comes up and slaps you sharply. You whimper. He does it again, this time harder. The stinging in the side of your face is enough to make your pussy clench around nothing.

He pins you to the side of the couch his hands on your hips. He rolls your skirt up, and makes a choked sound at the sight of you. He tears your underwear down harshly. 

"Please, don't," he mocks with a harsh slap on your ass. "Try and tell me you don't want this."

A finger slides along your slick, from hole to clit. He presses his finger against it just slightly but it's enough to make your hips buck. He gently rolls a finger around your clit a few times, already building that high in the pit of your stomach. He barely fucking touched you and you're already desperate to cum, breath ragged, legs shaking. Leon pulls away. You whimper in disappointment. Then his hand comes down hard against your ass cheek. Then again. Then again. Then again.

The pain is overwhelming. But god, you don't want him to stop. You want hand-shaped bruises on your ass, you want to remember this every time you sit down for the next week.

"You look so pretty for me when you cry" His hand still wet from your cunt comes up and rubs your tears away, leaving an obscene mix of your tears and your desperation for him on your cheeks. The tears keep falling anyways. Then, softly, "you do remember our safe word, right?"

You nod, but you don't say it. You want to go further. You want him to hurt you more. 

“Hey, answer me when I’m fucking talking to you,” he grabs you roughly by the jaw, wrenching your face to look at him. 

“Yes,” you nod, desperately. “I remember.” 

“Wasn’t so fucking hard,” he says. He slaps you again, hard enough to stun you into a stupid, teary-eyed grin.

You hear his pants unbutton, then unzip, then fall to the ground, but you're so overwhelmed you can't move. His hand still in your hair, still tugging enough to remind you of your place beneath him, he lines his hips up with yours.

Then he's pushing into you. One, smooth motion is all it takes, your cunt greedily pulling him in. A high pitched moan escapes his throat, followed by a groaned "so fucking wet."

He fucks you deep and slow. Torturously slow, enjoying every minute of pleasure that he gets. The head of his cock presses against your g-spot, building the high like one boils water. Slowly. Your abdomen pressed against the couch makes it easier for him. The hour of teasing and adrenaline and painful foreplay has you overstimulated. But it’s really the slow, deep fucking that drives electricity through your body. Push and pull, ebb and flow, your face and ass stinging as he works. You’re already bordering on the edge, but his pace doesn’t allow you to go over. You just hover there. And hover there. And hover there. For what feels like hours you’re kept right on the edge without ever going over, building the tension inside you until it fucking hurts, and then you’re crying again. You want him to slam his hips into you, to fuck you into the couch, to do something to make you cum, but he doesn’t.

“Leon, it hurts,” you whine. 

“It’s supposed to.” 

“Please,” you beg, desperation making your voice hoarse. “Please just make me cum, please.” 

“Relax.” 

“Leon-” 

“I said relax. Or I’ll stop right now. Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” you shake your head, hair falling into your face. 

He takes his time to smooth it back, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. He wipes more tears from your cheeks. When he speaks, though, his voice is so hard and cold. 

“Greedy little whore.” 

With no warning, he’s fucking into you harder. Faster. It only takes a few thrusts before you’re cumming on his cock. Your body tenses so hard your muscles scream, shaking and moaning and gasping for air. Your cunt tightens so hard you hear Leon breathe a fuck, baby. It feels like it lasts forever, and when you finally come down, you’re entirely dazed. 

You’re... vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, hot and sticky. But for the most part you just feel like you’re floating. Leon slowly lowers you to the floor, grabbing a throw pillow and tucking it under your head. You close your eyes. 

You wake again when the room is an orange glow, a blanket thrown over you for comfort. Leon is lounging on the couch reading a book, and when you stir, you immediately have his attention. 

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily. 

“Hey. Thought I’d let you sleep, you looked like you needed it. Why don’t I run us a shower?” 

“Yeah,” you smile softly, dreamy fuzziness still clinging to you. “I’d like that.”