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iriswritesforyou · 4 months ago

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His Mona Lisa

Warning - small violence, prejudice against mutants, and maybe some other things? IDK

Word count - 1,889

Description: Reader is a human art teacher at the school. You and Logan had both been giving each other eyes for a while now but things heat up during a field trip.

Charles Xaiver had asked you, a human, to teach at his school for mutants, as an art teacher. You were reluctant at first, not because you were scared of mutants but because you felt as if you had nothing to offer them. Your only gift rested in your ability to paint and draw, to bring the images in your mind to life, and to help the youth do the same.

It was rocky at first, the kids were hesitant to warm up to you and you were hesitant to discipline them but that all changed one day when you introduced them to what you liked to call ‘splat balloon painting’. You had set up a canvas for each kid with balloons filled with paint next to them outside, encouraging them to throw them at the canvases. The kids loved it so much and getting paint all over you was definitely worth watching them smile and laugh. The true solidarity came when one of the kids' powers acted up and you got freezing cold acrylic paint all over you. The kid expected you to be angry like most humans would but you werent, to their surprise you just laughed it off and assured the kid you were fine.

After that day your class was one of the favorites among the students, even the kids who had hated art in previous years found themselves enjoying your class.

And then there was Logan, the combat instructor teacher who plagued your thoughts and little did you know you plagued him as well. It all started when one of your kids came to class all battered up and looking worse for wear claiming it was from Logan’s combat class. You didn't know much about Logan and you didn't know much about his class but you did know that your students shouldnt be showing up to class looking like they just got beat up in an alleyway.

So you marched down into the lower levels of the school determined to scold Logan like a parent would a child.

He was quite surprised to see a young human woman dressed in paint covered overall hanging off one of her shoulders, paint brushes stuck in her hair, and mismatched jewelry stomping up to him.

He had heard about you of course, there was a stir when you joined the campus, people whispered about you with some saying you didn’t belong and others thinking your presence would be good for future relations between humans and mutants, he didn't particularly care. This was the first time he had seen you through and you certainly left your mark on him huffing and puffing about how the kids shouldnt be showing up to class battered and bruised.

If Logan was being honest, despite what most people thought his reaction would be, he wasn't annoyed or angry, in fact he found it a little endearing how you cared for the kids, but he pushed that down and explained to you how it wasn't his intentions but the kids have to learn somehow.

A couple months had passed since then and you and Logan were cordial to each other, you smiled at each other in passing but nothing more than that but the rest of the teachers and even students could see how both of your eyes always found each other in a room.

Things started to heat up when you scheduled a field trip for the students to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and Logan was going with you to help you watch the kids.

Logan knew he should have been paying more attention to the kids but he couldn't help but keep his eyes on you, the way you smiled when you explained the exhibits or how you lit up when they would ask questions. And you couldn't help but notice his watchful gaze, mostly on you and it unnerved you. Why was he staring? Was there something wrong with the way you were dressed? Something on your face?

“Alright I want everybody to find a partner and split up, the sheet of paper I handed you all lays out the entire place and all of the attractions. Please, remember to meet up back here in an hour.” You told the kids as Logan came up beside you and you smiled at him gently “And you and I will be walking around keeping an eye on them.” he didn't say anything but nodded.

You both had wandered over to the Museum history panel and read the date 1870, was Logan born just after that?

“Can I ask you something personal?” He didn't even have to think about it before answering “Yes.”.

“It says this place was founded in 1870.” your voice dropped into a whisper “weren't you born around then?” He snapped his face towards you while you stayed looking away. He wondered how you knew that you and him hadn't had a conversation in months.

“How did you know that?” You now turned to face him completely, faces close and heart racing, he could hear it. Your eyes were locked onto each other and he couldn't help but study how the light danced in them and skin became flushed under the cool lighting, he thought he was making you scared and took a step back. He wouldn't admit it but he didn't want to take a step back. He wanted to take a step closer.

“I’ve been - asking around, about you. I'm sorry, I should have asked you but-.” Unspoken words held in the air.

It was your guilty pleasure to find out more about Logan, the more you knew the more you had answers and you couldn't ask him, he was, well, him.

“You could have just asked me.” He said. You thought he would be mad, furious even but instead he looked hurt. “You're right Logan, and I’m sorry. If I’m being honest you intimidate me a little.”

He raised one of his brows at you, he knew he had that effect on people but he didn't want it on you. “Well, you don't have to be. I don't want you to be.” His gruff voice made you stay locked onto him.

Time could have passed for a hundred years and you both could have stayed right there forever but time didn't care what you wanted as a blood curdling scream snapped you both back to reality.

Over in the Egyptian side of the room one of your kids and a human boy were having an all out brawl with your kid winning. Logan got there faster than you and pulled him off while the human boy quickly got up and spat at the ground by your feet, “mutant.”

That one word was all it took for your kid to start kicking in Logan's arm, trying to claw his way back over to the human boy while he just stood there glaring. You quickly walked over to the human boy and grabbed his forearm, “where are your parents?” and it was as if they heard you.

A lady in an expensive looking green suit and a man twice the size of you came over, the woman with tears in her eyes, hyperventilating and the man getting red in the face with anger.

“Let go of my son!” the man huffed getting up into your face, so close you could see the pimple about to burst on his nose. Letting go of his son you took a step back and he took one again closer to you. “Mutant bitch” It was two words now that snapped Logan into action, as he had been watching the exchange with the kid still fighting in his arms. Quickly, Logan let him go, not caring if he went back over to the human boy and started another fight. No, his only concern was you.

Stepping in between you and the man, blocking him from your sight, they stood toe to toe. Logan was clearly taller and stronger than the man but that did nothing to deter him “And you must be her mutant bastard”. You grabbed the back of Logan's clothes hoping he wouldn't start something “Logan” you gently whispered. Logan may be an angry man but it was never for himself, he wouldn't start anything.

It wasn't until you stepped around Logan hesitantly, still keeping your grip on him and started to try and mend the situation. “Please, ma’am, sir, we are truly, very sorry. And -”, a sickening slap echoed around the now quiet room, he had hit you and Logan wasn't going to let that slide.

In the blink of an eye Logan pulled you back and into the arms of your mutant students who had now gathered around the both of you and punched the guy right back.

Chaos exploded, the woman shrieked as Logan had the man jacked up against the wall as he cried, half of your kids went for the human boy who had bullied your kid and the other half stuck by you as you stood there in shock.

It took ten security members to pry off Logan and the aftermath was quite horrific. Blood was on the walls and floors, but only the man and his boy had seriously gotten injured with your mutant students only having minor bumps and bruises.

They would have hauled Logan off to jail if it wasn't for Charles showing up and sweet talking to them, promising not just financial compensation for the museum but for them personally as well, the human family too.

It wasn't until you got back to the school that you really felt the pain in your upper cheek bone and eye. As you were about to open your door Logan stood there with his fist raised about to knock.

“I’m so sorry Logan.” He didn't say anything back, his eyes not wavering from a particular spot on your face. He reached towards it and gently touched it making you hiss and jerk back “I should have hit him harder.”

You shook your head in disbelief “No, anything more and you would have gone to jail Logan.”

“You need to go down to the infirmary.” He took your hand in his. “That's actually where I was about to go.” but he still held your hand and led you to the infirmary.

“I’m sorry.” The gruff man apologized this time.

“Why?” he stopped and fully turned to you, feeling ashamed for running your first field trip.

“It was a shitty field trip, your first one.” you shrugged but still stayed looking at him “I'm more upset about not being able to tour the museum, I've always wanted to go.”

He felt guilty now, he knew art was your passion and he didn't even think about that part of the debacle.

“I'll make it up to you, I'll take you next time.” He couldn't even believe the words that had come out of his mouth but he wanted to take them back, not because he didn't want to but because he assumed you wouldn't want to go with him. But to his surprise a smile grew on your face “Like a date?”

There was a beat of silence as he gazed down at your beautiful face and gave a small smile down at you “Like a date sweetheart.”

#wolverine x reader #wolverine #wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #james logan howlett

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servantofthefates · 7 months ago

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“False Alarm” Tarot Cards

The Hermit

Your first instinct might be to think, “I will die alone and unloved”. But very often, it just means your soulmate is a Virgo. Because this is Virgo’s card.

Justice

Some people draw the Justice card, and think a legal trouble is on the horizon. But often, it only means the wrongs in your life are about to be righted.

The Hanged Man

The go-to meanings for this are delays and sacrifices. But sometimes, The Hanged Man is only telling you that life is about to feel like a vacation.

The Devil

Many people are afraid that it means abuse, which it can. But in this card, the couple’s shackles are loose. So they can easily escape if they actually try.

The Tower

“My world will come crashing down!” tends to be the leading interpretation. But more often than not, it actually means, “Someone will rock your world.”

Five of Wands

This is a card of conflict, yes. But the fear it creates is unfounded. If you look at the card, no one is really hitting anyone. They are just playing around.

Nine of Wands

This one is often associated with the anxiety card, the Nine of Swords. But they are very different. In this, the enemy has already been vanquished.

Ten of Wands

Burdens. That is what everybody says. But the man in this card is not burdened by trouble. He is “burdened” by his harvest. He is bringing home the bacon.

Five of Pentacles

It can predict poverty, yes. But more importantly, it says that when poverty does come, help can be accessed. The couple is right outside a church – a sanctuary.

Seven of Pentacles

It does say, “Sorry. Keep waiting.” But what it is really saying is, “You are not waiting in vain.” Your rewards are guaranteed. They are just not ready yet.

Five of Cups

Most readers immediately see grief, and they are right. But there are two cups left standing. The future is still safe. Life still looks promising.

Eight of Cups

This card does not mean, “You are in danger. Walk away.” It means that while you are comfortable where you are, you will soon leave for a better path.

Seven of Swords

This is not always saying that you are the thief’s victim. Sometimes it means you are the one who will get away. Or that someone will sweep you off your feet.

Eight of Swords

No, you are not trapped. You are only feeling trapped. Yes, you need saving. But only from yourself. Let go of your hallucinations, and all will be well.

#Tarot #Tarot tips #Witch tips #Witchblr #servantofthefates #Tarot meanings #All About Tarot

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blackswan446 · 10 months ago

Note

Could you please write about yandere who's a fuckboy? At first he was just gonna play with her reader's heart but ended up being obsessed with her. Any member is fine. Thank you so much in advance if you end up writing it!

lifetime.

→ pairing: yan!jjk x reader

→ synopsis: we live for so many years, why not make them the happiest you can?

→ wc: 5362

→ cws: kidnapping/coercion, death, funeral, sexual advances

→ notes: yay my first ask! hope you enjoy, and sorry it took so long :(

part two || m.list

jungkook was a womanizer.

at least, that's what everybody else called him. he liked to think of himself as...social. sure, he got around a bit, but that's just how young men lived. especially young men like him. born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the man was set up for success from the moment he was born. who cares if that success came at the expense of a childhood with present parents and a sense of family beyond a name?

needless to say, jungkook's reputation followed him wherever he went, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing for him. it gained him a different type of respect from other men of his status, and only seemed to draw more and more women into his addictive orbit, no thanks to his looks and suave personality. assistants, secretaries, office workers, even the wives of others, you name the woman, if she was around jungkook for a while, it's more than likely they had something going on.

what a shame he never stuck around. what a shame he would lure them in, with promises of extravagant dates, fancy dresses, and luxurious houses, all to have the chandelier fall back down on them in the form of "we're just not compatible!" although they acted sad, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were really so heartbroken over. the life of their dreams was hanging just within their grasp, all for it to be ripped away and dangled over the head of another girl. anyone would be sad about that.

did it ever get boring?...sometimes. but there lived no fun without the dullness. for every batch of girls that cycled in and out of his life, there were always a few sticklers. sticklers, who didn't leave quietly, but put up a fight, refused to leave, spat insults at him, one even keyed his expensive sports car. these ones were usually paid a hefty sum to see their way out of his life, and what was funny, is that every single girl who was offered the money took it and left. they didn't even give it a second thought.

the idea of settling down sounded nice for about a year, until he quickly realized that it was easier said than done for a man of his rank. it would be far too easy to lock in with a woman that married him for his house, his cars, his fortune, than for him. he didn't need to be bled dry by some selfish woman who resorted to marrying rich after her failed acting career. so alone he stayed, or rather, lonely. he was rarely alone with himself. but he always had this aching feeling of loneliness in his chest.

that was, until one little choice altered his entire life.

"this is who we've narrowed down for the secretary position, sir. it was difficult, as there were a lot of highly qualified applicants, but these are my choices. i figured you could get the final say, if you don't mind." sehyun concluded, leaving the stack of folders in front of jungkook on his desk. sighing deeply, he looked at he pile, then back to the man before him. "are you sure you want me to choose?"

sejun nodded. "yes, sir. unless, of course, you don't want to." he clarified. jungkook shook his head. "no, it's fine. i've got it." he said, reaching for the pile. shutting his eyes, and shuffling the folders in his hands, he grabbed a random one from the middle and held it up. "this one." he declared, handing it back to sejun.

taking it from the male, he opened the file to read the contents. "who's our lucky winner, sejun?" he joked, leaning back in his chair lazily. "looks like it's [first name/last name]. sound alright to you?" he asked, looking to his boss for approval. he nodded. "sounds great to me. she sounds pretty." he remarked, smiling at his own words. with a courtesy laugh and farewell, sejun left, shutting the door behind him. after he was gone, jungkook looked at the pile of papers left behind, and tossed them in the garbage without thinking twice.

it's almost as if he knew he would never need them again.

tapping your foot anxiously, you glanced around the clean waiting room, observing the decorations, the paintings, and even taking note of the sweet smell of the room, the smell of a fresh flower garden in the midst of spring. the only sound that filled the room was the typing of the receptionist on her computer, along with the occasional conversation from the office behind her. the seconds passed like minutes, the minutes like hours, as you waited for in the chair the receptionist sent you to. why were you in a chair? who knows, you told her you had been hired, but she still sent you to wait amongst the clients. you certainly fit in with them, wearing your nicest clothes and cleanest shoes.

finally, you heard the call of your name from behind the desk, and looked up to see a man rushing towards you. "[name], i'm so sorry to keep you waiting. how long have you been here?" he asked apologetically. you shook your head. "oh please, don't worry about it. i haven't been here for long." you reassured him, smiling in an attempt to ease his worries. "well, welcome to jeon industries. on behalf of everyone, we're all very happy you're here." he beamed, leading you down a carpeted hallway to a small, messy office. "here, have a seat--i guess you've been doing a lot of that today," he chuckled, "and i'll get you setup with your badge and login information."

you nodded, accepting his invitation to sit down in the cushy chair in front of his desk. the office was disorganized, but not in a way that made you want to leave. it looked more like the office of someone who was always hard at work, rather than someone who just didn't bother to clean. 'so you're fresh out of college, right? how's the real world been treating you?" he asked, typing away on his computer before searching around for something on his cluttered desk. "so far, so good. i'm here, aren't i?" you replied, half-smiling. he nodded slowly. "right you are...alright, here's a temporary badge. we'll get you an official one once we can get the photographer in for your picture. and this," he said, handing you a yellow sticky note with some writing scribbled on it, "is your login information for your computer. now i'll bring you to your desk, and get you setup with your trainer, and you'll be good to go!" he said cheerily, standing up from the chair and heading for the door.

a long series of hallways led to your desk, which was situated right outside of a sleek wooden door, on which a gold plate that was engraved with the name "jeon jungkook". the door had glass on either side, that peeked into the office, where you caught a glimpse of the supposed mr. jeon, on a phone call at his desk. unfortunately, he looked up from his desk at the exact moment you were peering into the office, resulting in one second of awkward eye contact before you turned your head away and your eyes met the ones of a new girl.

"hi!" she grinned, "i'm aera. i work in accounting, right down the hall. you're [name], right?" she asked, sticking her hand out for you to shake. taking it, you introduced yourself. "yes, hello, it's nice to meet you, aera!" you said confidently, her kind manner easing your burning nerves. "i'll let you two get started here. aera, thank you for your time, and [name], if you need anything, you can come to either of us, and we'll help you out. alright?" he asked. at your nod, he gave one last smile before disappearing down the hallway.

aera clasped her hands. "well, isn't this exciting! i love when we get new people here. let's start your training, shall we?"

jungkook saw you. you tried to look away, you tried to act like you weren't staring him down, but he always saw the stares. it's not like he had any issue with it, of course. he loved when people looked at him, especially pretty girls such as yourself. and to think that you were just going to be sitting outside, doing nothing else but running around for his sake! he had been looking for a new distraction from his work, his life, his everything. and it looks like he just found it.

three months had passed, three months of your little desk, new friendships, and great work. the job was going great for you; of course, it was work, so it did have its downsides, but the good far outweighed the bad. your coworkers welcomed you in with open arms, despite your young age and inexperience, they respected you and valued your opinions, which alleviated about 80% of your worries.

as for the job itself, it was great. all you really did was secretary work, like scheduling meetings, booking dinner reservations, and calling other businessmen, all for the ceo.

jeon jungkook.

what an interesting man.

right off the bat, jungkook was very...friendly...to you. the first day you were there, without aera by your side to help you, he moseyed on out of his office and right to your desk, taking the opportunity to "personally introduce" himself to you, and by that, he meant saying his name and staring at you like a piece of meat as he carried on a meaningless conversation.

from then on, he was always just around. wherever you were, he always seemed to find himself. for a while, you thought he was just being welcoming. but when it didn't let up after the first month, you started to think that there were some sort of ulterior motives at play. no ceo has any reason to be getting his secretary gifts every week, nor any reason to grab the small of her waist every time he passes behind her. the questions in your head came to an end when aera revealed the young man's real self, in a serious conversation over some hot breakroom coffee.

"he's a major...manwhore!" she revealed, going on to recount all the numbers of women she had heard him being with in her few years there. "he's been with virtually every woman here." you looked at her in disbelief, and you didn't need to ask the question for her to give you an answer. she nodded slowly, staring into her mug. "i'm not proud of it..i was young, and i liked the attention. i feel so stupid now." she admitted.

it all made sense to you now, the touching, the presents, the prolonged conversations about the lobby decorations. it all clicked. he only saw you as another trophy to win and put into his glass case with all the other girls he had tainted. you wanted to be shocked, but with someone of his authority and resources, it'd be a lie to say you expected differently. it was a shame, sure, but at least you knew now.

jungkook, on the other hand, had no clue what your problem was. it didn't usually take him this long to seduce a girl. what more did he have to do? he did everything he knew of--gifts, of pretty flowers and expensive candies, having long and invested conversations together, he even resorted to the subtle-touching method. how long was this going to take?! did you have a boyfriend, or were you saving it for marriage, or were you just a prude?

as frustrating as this loss was, especially for someone who always won, there was something strange about it that he...liked? he didn't know either. but it was oddly addicting, the challenge of it. the unfamiliarity of it. of not being given into at the first smile. the need to actually try, even if it was for something so shallow,

he just liked trying.

the night had come, and left a wash of black over everything that was once bright and clear. you could see the night sky from your window, and the stars glittered like moonlight on the ocean. throwing your things into your bag sloppily, in a hurry to get out out of the office and into the cool nighttime air. you were scheduled to have left an hour ago, but a cold had set you back a few days last week, and you needed to catch up on the work that was left waiting for you.

slinging your purse over your shoulder and pushing in your chair, you walked to jungkook's door to bid him farewell for the evening. as grossed out as you were by him, it would be rude to not say goodbye to your boss, at least, you thought it was. poking your head in the door, you barely got the word 'goodbye' out before noticing something strange.

jungkook wasn't hunched over his desk, or talking on his phone, or even on his computer. instead of bidding you a cheeky goodbye, he was standing at his large window, which overlooked the city and its bright lights. furrowing you brows, you debated going further inside to ask what was wrong, but the young man had already picked up on your presence, so you couldn't back out now.

"[name]," he said, not in his normal flirtatious tone, "heading out?" he glanced at the time on his watch. "i guess so. it's pretty late." you took a few steps into his office, staying close to the door. "yeah, i was. but are you alright? i saw you just...standing there." you asked quietly, nervous that your simple question had overstepped some type of boundary.

he nodded quickly. "yeah, yeah. i'm alright, thanks...just thinking, i guess." he said, turning his body to face you entirely. you cocked your head to the side. "about what? anything in particular?" you asked, mentally slapping yourself. this is probably exactly what he wants to happen, you thought, you were being too kind to him. but you couldn't exactly leave now, you were too far in.

he sighed. "honestly? yeah. i was just thinking...what if i'm not fit for this? i mean, today, i noticed that our revenue numbers have gone down, and not by just a little bit. i mean, i hear all the time that it's normal for companies to fluctuate in their numbers, but nobody ever talks about it. and it scares me. it makes me think that i'm doing something wrong." he confessed, looking down at his shiny leather shoes.

"i see." was all you could say. what else was there? were you supposed to give him business advice? "and i have my father breathing down my neck, always reminding me that i need to have this big, important life, that i need to get married, and run a corporation perfectly, and learn french, and piano, and racquetball, and all this other bullshit, and i can barely keep my head above water!" he complained, having shifted from the window to his desk chair. he chuckled slightly, after a moment. "i'm sorry, [name], god, i get asked one question, and i go off on a tangent. you don't deserve that."

you smiled softly. "don't worry, mr. jeon. i'm the one who asked. as for everything else you said...nobody said you need to do it all at once. you're young, sir. you have a lot of life ahead of you. you have plenty of time to do all of those things, and even more things, that you can choose. you're not running out of time. and i'm sorry you feel like you are." you consoled, scolding yourself for the cliché advice you just gave.

instead of scoffing, he nodded his head slowly. "i guess you're right. i mean, i'm only 28. i won't be going anywhere anytime soon." he mused. you smiled, this time more broadly. "you've given me a lot to think about, [name]. thank you. seriously." he said, his signature grin returning to his face. with a quiet goodbye, you scurried out of the office, eager to get out into the fresh air, and away from the incidental therapy session you just had with your boss.

the next day, you walked in, and as you approached your desk, you were greeted by the biggest arrangement of flowers you had ever seen in a vase. you didn't even need to read the card to know where they came from.

that day at lunch, a pair of dainty knuckles went up to meet the sleek wood of the door. a flat voice from behind it admitted the person to the room, which they entered and shut the door behind them.

"mr. jeon."

glancing up from the paper in his hands, he met aera's sharp eyes. "aera. what can i do for you?" he asked, turning his attention back down to his work. she moved forward, to sit in one of the sleek leather chairs in front of his desk. "well, you can tell me what you and that little assistant of your have going on, for starters."

looking up, this time with much more intensity than before, he stared into her brown eyes. "what are you talking about?" he demanded. she laughed, as if it were the stupidest question she had ever heard. "don't play dumb. you know exactly what i'm talking about. you and that little puritan that sits outside of your office all day?" she laughed again, "always sending her flowers and that other bullshit. i mean, you're not a stupid man. what could you possibly see in her? she's obviously a prude, obviously inexperienced, and so boring! what a sad excuse for a woman! why keep chasing after that..." she paused, standing up and circling around the desk to where jungkook was sat, seating herself on the arm of the chair, "when you could have...something so much better, and all you have to do is say the word?" she whispered, leaning in close to his ear.

clenching his jaw, jungkook turned his head away from aera. "get out." he seethed, refusing to say anymore than that. she scoffed, standing up and placing her hand on her hip. "i--you cannot be serious. don't be shy, sir, i know you want this. all you have to do is tell me yes."

"okay, well, i'm telling you to get out, before i call the front desk and have you escorted out, by security." he boomed, standing up from his chair, sending it flying into the shelf behind him, "and don't bother coming back. not today, not tomorrow, not next week. just pack your shit and leave."

mouth agape, and standing there awkwardly until jungkook motioned for her to get out, aera stormed out, heels thumping on the floor. "unbelievable. un-fucking-believable!" she shouted, slamming the door behind her as she left. she stormed past your desk and as she walked by, spat "he's yours, you little bitch."

confused, you watched her back disappear down the corridor and into her office, where she noisily started slamming things around. jungkook came out of his office, rushing to your desk as he heard her shout at you. her obnoxious throwing and swearing could be heard as she grabbed all her belongings and left out of the back entrance.

looking at jungkook, with whom you were still not totally comfortable with, he patted your shoulder softly as he talked to you. "are you alright? i don't know what her problem is. did she do anything to you?' he asked. after assuring him you were okay, he went back into his office. you wondered all afternoon what she meant by "he's yours".

ever since the night you had caught him all stressed out, he seemed to be different. like he held a higher respect for you now. instead of passing by you by grabbing your waist, he politely excused himself. instead of extending conversations about nothing, he asked you genuine questions, and replied with interested answers. as for the gifts...they didn't really stop. but his shift in behavior was nice, you appreciated the new high regard he held you in.

as for jungkook, he had stopped looking at you like a piece of ass. he didn't see you like that anymore. see, it wasn't the first time he had been asked if he was alright by a woman. it had happened plenty of times. it also wasn't the first time he had answered with that exact thing: the fear of not living up to what he needed to be, that ate away at him every single day. but it was the first time he had gotten an actual response. not a one-word answer, not an 'oh', not a subject change. an actual response, with substance and meaning. it was weird, such a small action was the most heard and seen he had ever felt in his whole life. furthermore, it inspired hope, something that he had long given up on. and it was fucking euphoric.

needless to say, he was smitten. maybe it was destiny, or maybe his standards were just low. either way, he had never felt this way for anyone before, and couldn't imagine feeling it for anyone else. so naturally, he didn't take too kindly to someone coming in and disrespecting you like that, much less one of your closest friends! through his anger, he couldn't help but wonder, why? was she jealous, because she knew that an ugly beast hid behind her mask, and there was no changing it? or was she just that shallow?

whatever her reasons, jungkook didn't really care. all he knew is that she was a problem, one that took priority over any other issue he had. she needed to be gone, not just from the company, but from society. your heart was too golden, too shiny and beautiful to float around, unprotected from the tarnish of others.

oh, you. what would happen with you? it was already decided, at least, in his mind, that you were his and he was yours. it was that simple. you just didn't know yet. that wasn't what the issue was here. you would no doubt be upset over the tragic loss of your best friend, but who would hold you as you cried? who would hug you as you struggled to fall asleep? who would be there for you in your hour of need? jungkook would, obviously. the roles in your life were open, the role of boyfriend, best friend, provider. and he had enough love to fill all of those spots to the max, plus more left over to shower you in, to drown you in. what better person could there be?

the decision was made, he knew what had to happen, and he knew he would get away with it. normally, he didn't like to risk dirtying his hands with anything even remotely like this, but for you, he'd crawl his way through the mud. besides, what harm was there in getting your hands dirty, as long as you washed the muck away?

the news had hit you like a freight train. aera, one of your very best friends, struck while walking on the street late at night, by a drunk driver. how awful! and just that day, she had gotten into a conflict at work...the poor girl. she was so young, too. she had so much going for her, so much to wait for in life.

putting on your nicest black outfit, combing your hair out, and grabbing your plain black umbrella, you parked your car on the road across from the cemetery. your umbrella came in handy, as it was a grey day, rain drizzling from the sky, almost like God was crying right along with you. faces, familiar and not, all flooded to the open grave.

looking around, you recognized a few coworkers, and most notable, jungkook. he had on a black suit, one that looked nicer than his everyday ones, and was standing around with a few people. he didn't look like he was sad, but more solemn. like he was only there because it was the right thing to do.

you shied away from the crowd, preferring to stick to yourself and process the loss on your own. you visited the casket, which had the lid shut up tight, and you just stood there for a minute. memories of aera flooded your mind, from the first cheerful greeting she gave you to the final words she hurled at you as she stormed away. who knew that would be the last time you ever saw each other?

as you mourned, you felt a hand snake around your waist, rubbing your side gently. "hey, [name]. how are you holding up?" jungkook asked quietly, leaning into your ear as he did so. you shook your head. "i'm fine, it's just..so shocking. i mean, we just saw her." you said, not totally believing the words that left your own mouth.

he nodded. "mmh, i get that. it's horrifying, isn't it? absolutely..horrifying." he said, looking down at the polished brown casket and the spread of flowers that sat on top of it. "hey, you've been standing in the rain for a while. aren't you cold? here, take this." he offered, taking the soft suit jacket off and hanging it over your shoulders. "how about we go sit down? the service is going to start soon." he said, carefully leading you to two chairs underneath the tent, away from the cold drops of rain that were hitting your skin.

you thanked him quietly, and before you could do anymore, the service started. the array of speeches and memories shared in aera's honor brought tears to your eyes, and you couldn't help the few that rolled down your cheeks. the whole time, jungkook kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders, at some points even pulling you closer to him and almost cradling you in his arms. admittedly, it was nice to have someone there for you as you hurt, even if it was him.

the service ended, seemingly as quickly as it started. the crowd dispersed, some going up to say their final goodbye to aera. you and your fragile heart couldn't bear to do it, not again, and after leaving jungkook's suit jacket on your chair, you slowly started to make your way back to the car, wiping your tears on your hands as you did so.

"[name]!" you heard a familiar voice call. turning around, jungkook, suit jacket in hand, walked swiftly towards you, arm outstretched. "come on. i'll take you home." he said, reaching to grab your shoulder. you shook your head. "thank you, but my car's parked here. and thanks for the jacket. i'll see you at work." you replied, trying to turn and leave.

"i don't think you should be driving. you know, with...everything. your mind is foggy. it's dangerous to drive like that. come on, i promise i don't mind." he pleaded, a desperate look crossing his features. hesitantly, you obliged with his request, and he wrapped his arm around you once again as you walked to his fancy car. some heads turned, and there were some whispers, and your face burned because of it, but jungkook didn't seem to notice.

his car was nice, and undoubtedly expensive. with only two seats, it looked like something a movie star would zoom up to a party with. getting in, and buckling your seatbelt, you heard the door locks click, and as the car started up, you felt your grief fire up again, but this time, it manifested in your stomach, specifically, a pit feeling, similar to nerves.

"don't you need my address?" you asked him as he took off down the road. "i have your address already." he said, "you know, from employee records." he clarified, smiling at you innocently. there wasn't much conversation. only the sounds of the asphalt beneath you and the feelings of devastation at aera's death heightening in your stomach, now giving you sweaty palms and a racing heart. all you needed was to get home, to your shower, your pajamas, and your bed.

it was only after jungkook drove past your road that you realized the feeling in your stomach might be a bit more than pure grief. "sorry, but you drove past my road." you informed him. he shook his head. "no, [name]. we're not going there. i have something i need to tell you, and i really need you to stay calm, because it'll make it a whole lot easier for you. got that?" he asked, putting his hand on your thigh and making mindless patterns with his thumb.

"what are you talking about? i'd really just like to go back home, jungkook, my house. please." you beseeched. he shook his head again. "listen to me, baby, just listen, yeah? you are going home--well, not your home, but we're going to our home. sound good? i don't want you to worry. i know this is weird, but i promise, you'll love it. okay? stay calm, for me." he explained, slowly, as if you were a child. tears welled up in your eyes all over again. "but why? i don't want to!" you cried.

"why? why do you think, darling, because i'm bored?" he chuckled at his own sick joke, "because, i love you. and i'm the only one you have, now that aera's gone. i know you're sad about that, but trust me, it was for the best. if you heard what she said, you would hit the floor, baby." he said, he laughed at it, as if it were some type of hilarious joke.

it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was implying. disgusted, you froze in your seat, breath catching in your throat. "you...don't tell me...you did that..to her?" you choked out, barely able to annunciate the words. he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "what can i say? she wasn't good for you, darling, that's what you need to understand. she was such a hateful person. she deserved it." he assured you, voice calm and even.

vision blurring, whether it was from the tears or dizziness, you weren't sure, but you clawed at the handle of his car. "let me out. right now. just let me go, and i won't tell anyone. please." you begged, desperately looking around for anything to help you. suddenly, you felt the car stop abruptly in the middle of the road. jungkook leaned over, hand unmoving from your thigh, and spoke directly into your ear. "try to get out of this car again, and so help me god, i will not hesitate to do to the both of us what i did to aera. you wouldn't want that, would you, sweetheart?" he asked, voice sweet and innocent, as he leaned back, and even had the audacity to give you a kiss on the cheek and smile at you as he did so.

slowly, you sat back in your seat, hands folded in your lap. as much as you wanted to, you had no doubt that jungkook would run the both of you off the road if you tried anything else stupid. your ideas for escape started diminishing as more and more trees and fields filled your vision, and the buildings of the city faded away.

"listen to me. i got us a beautiful house in the country. it's huge, and we have anything and everything you could ever want. i'll keep on going to work, and all you have to do is stay home, and wait for me. okay? be there for me when i get home. spend time with me. be my wife. and whatever happens, happens." he told you sternly. "you know, [name], i think you were right. we have so much life left to live, both of us. we have decades left. and what better way to spend it,

than just the two of us, together?"

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #asks

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yandecifi · 2 months ago

Text

sex isn't about have to's

aizawa/reader

~4500 words

mild smut, angst, hurt/comfort

cw; implied rape/noncon, implied incest, implied child abuse

You've managed to avoid nights at the house by running the door at a local strip club. The bouncer you usually work with, Aizawa, is a sarcastic, unusually tall smoker. He's sweet, sweet enough to drive you home most nights — and to pick up on your subtleties.

“Hope all the girls are as hot as you.”

It’s twelve in the morning and your dress is short enough that you’ll flash everybody if you bend over. You don’t mind, though, because that’s kind of the idea; the all black, skin tight nature of your chosen work uniform is meant to draw attention to… well, the parts that matter.

You laugh sweetly as you scan the young man’s ID. Your coworker, Aizawa, looms behind you, eyeing up the crowd in front of the club and rolling a cigarette between his fingers. He’s one of the better bouncers you work with, if not your favorite — not only does he actually do his job when things get rowdy, but he doesn’t snitch on your rather immoral side hustle.

“Oh, trust me, they’re even better,” you say, passing the ID back with a flick of your fingers. You shift your weight so that your breasts squish together a little more. “Wanna come and tell me about it after?”

You flutter your lashes. Distant club music swims through your body. The guy grins and nods.

That’s gotta be at least forty bucks. Score.

You turn to flash Aizawa a little shit eating grin. He just shakes his head and takes a puff of his cigarette.

You don’t bother wearing perfume. Why would you when Aizawa’s always got smoke curling up from his lips and fingers? A year into this job and you can’t even scrub the scent out of your hair anymore. When you grumbled that you stink thanks to him, he just said you’re welcome and held out a cigarette, half-lidded eyes full of mirth.

He takes that dry approach to just about everything. Maybe it’s because he’s so much older than you, what with his inky, messily tied hair and rough stubble adorning his chin, but he doesn’t care about much aside from his paycheck and getting home. You’ve seen him take a punch to the face and just sigh with annoyance.

Still smiling up at your coworker, you ring up the next guy in line.

“Y’know, I think this is gonna be a good night, ‘Zawa.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You stay ‘till close?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nice — oh, yeah, you’re good to go in — I’m here ‘till close, too. Think you could drive me home?”

“Uh-huh. Focus on the customers.”

“Oops.” You whip around to see an older man holding out his credit. You take it with a laugh. “Sorry, sir. I’d make it up to you with a kiss, but you’ll get plenty of that inside.”

“Ha! Didn’t expect the service to start out here. I’m paying for all five of us, by the way.”

“Of course.”

You blow a kiss at the men as they pass you, their loud laughter ensuing. Aizawa blows smoke into your face. You cough and smack his arm.

The monotony of greeting and ringing up, of flirting and scanning, continues. This is how most of your weekend nights go; clock in at nine, run the door with Aizawa (usually) and dick around with him until three, and then give a blowjob or two before heading back to your apartment. It’s a pretty good gig for somebody like you — it doesn’t clash with your other jobs while still making enough cash.

The line dwindles as the night goes on. Eventually, ten minutes go by without a group, and you’re squatting and fixing the straps of the stilettos you’re wearing. An unlit cigarette hangs between your teeth. Goosebumps run up your arms from the night air as you chat about everything and nothing.

“No, yeah, I haven’t seen her since. Do you think she got fired?”

“Probably.” Aizawa’s leaning against the wall, lighter in hand. “People show up high all the time, but not that high.”

“Yeah. I swear to God she was turning blue.” The strap you’re fiddling with slips from your fingers for the — what, fifth time? You groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Aizawa scoffs. “What’d I say? You’ve gotta —“

“You’ve gotta stop wearing the fucking heels, I know, I know!”

You’re kneeling now, knees scraping the concrete. Every time you jam the strap into the buckle it comes right out, no matter how much your nails wedge it in tight. You sigh and resign yourself to the floor.

“This is what I get for thrifting shitty shoes.”

Aizawa hums in agreement and yet squats next to you. He squints at your bratty straps. Then, he hands you his lighter.

“Try putting your leg out straight.”

“Okay,” you murmur, butt hitting the ground as you lean back on your hands and straighten your legs. “I’ll literally love you forever if you fix this.”

“Uh-huh.”

He fiddles with the strap, one hand wrapped around your calf to hold you still. Now that he’s this close, you realize you’ve never been this equal in height to him. Like, the guy is built like a damn tree. His jawline is pretty nice, too, and his hands are warm —

“Lighter.”

“Oh, yeah, here.”

Aizawa brings the lighter to your strap and fiddles some more with the flame. Then, he stands up, already reaching into his pocket for another cigarette, though he manages to catch himself.

“Oh my God,” you say, rolling your ankle around and around. “You actually fixed it. What the hell. And with the lighter, too.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunts, holding out his free hand. You take it with a grin.

“You’re smarter than you look.”

He huffs. “Watch it.”

You laugh and the two of you separate, only to come together again — you lean towards him so that he can light the cigarette in your mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, breathing the smoke out.

“For making you stink,” he responds, breathing the smoke in.

The two of you loiter around the doors. They open occasionally, drunk men stumbling out to catch their Ubers. One guy vomits across the street. You look away with a grimace.

“Ew.”

“You should be used to this by now.”

“It’s still ew.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long have you worked here that you don’t care about that sorta stuff?”

Aizawa rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck and all the joints there. “I’ve been here three years. Had other places before, though.”

“Haha. Old.”

“I’m thirty-nine. I’ve seen you hook up with guys in their fifties.”

You shrug, pass your cigarette to Aizawa. “They pay better.”

“Mhm,” he hums, breathing the nicotine in. He’s kinda pretty when he smokes. It’s something about the veins in his hands. “Your parents don’t care that you’re doing this?”

Your face scrunches up. “My parents?”

“Yeah?”

“How old do you think I am, dude?”

“I don’t know. Eighteen?”

“Excuse you, I’m nineteen.”

He lets out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, sticking the cigarette back out at you. You take it and smoke, face hot.

“That’s basically the same thing,” he says, laughter dead.

“Yeah, whatever, jeez. They don’t care.”

Aizawa nods slowly. You watch your smoke dissolve in the air.

“Just be careful with it,” he says.

You sneak a glance at your coworker. He’s leaning against the wall of the strip club the both of you work at, arms crossed, his black dress shirt unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms.

You cough and look down at your stilettos. “Thanks.”

“Your dress is riding.”

“Fuck.” You bite on the cig and yank your dress down. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I didn’t, uh, mean to,” you mutter.

“I know.” He clears his throat and nods towards the door. “Your guy.”

Just like Aizawa says, the young guy from earlier is coming out the doors with his group of friends. They’re snickering as he says bye and splits off towards you. You’ve always been kind of a joke to everybody else, but Aizawa’s never laughed at you.

You get up with a stumble, adjust yourself. The guy reaches you and you snatch up his hand, snuff your cigarette out on your thigh with a sizzle. You can feel Aizawa’s eyes on you as you drag him around back.

Maybe it��s because you’ve done this since you were a kid, but sucking off guys like the one you’re kneeled in front of doesn’t make you feel or think as much as it probably should. It goes by fast, actually, which you don’t mention (you’ve learned that ruins the mood), a blur of motions and groaning and zippers. He gives you some cash and you’re alone, standing behind your workplace, wiping cum off of your face. It’s quiet except for the muffled music.

You pass Aizawa on your way to the breakroom. He’s checking the IDs of some guys — your responsibility, fuck — and spots you as you try to rush past. You’re wiping off the mess that’s your lip gloss, manicured fingertips running circles around your mouth. He gives you a once over, like he always does, but this time he lingers on your fingers.

The guy called you some names during it. They ring in your ears as you brush your teeth in the employee bathroom. Slut. Whore. Slut. Whore. Slut, slut, slut.

You spit into the sink. You wash your face. You don’t recognize yourself without your makeup. You rummage through your ziploc baggie of product, reapply everything. You fix your hair. Your mouth never does feel clean.

Your lip wobbles. You keep running your fingers through your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror.

When you make it back to your post, the night air biting your calves, your coworker is alone at his usual spot on the wall. You stand next to him with your arms crossed. His voice comes out startlingly even compared to the voices in your head.

“You were in there a while.”

You nibble on your lip. “It got in my hair.”

He hums.

“Sorry for making you do my job,” you whisper.

“It’s boring out here. I don’t mind.” A car drives by. Somebody laughs loudly from inside the club.

“Okay.” You want to swallow but you spit instead. “Thanks.”

Slut. Whore. Slut, slut, slut.

It hits three in the morning and you’re giggling with Aizawa in his beat-up car. A cheap air freshener hangs from his mirror, twirling about as he drives you home, an empty energy drink rattling in one of his cupholders.

“Okay, um, would you kill your cat to end traffic?” You ask, smiling, watching him as he rolls his eyes from the driver's seat.

“You’ve asked me this already.”

“Just answer!”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He taps his cigarette ash out the window, his other hand guiding the steering wheel. “Anybody who says otherwise is a psychopath.”

“Okay, yeah, I agree. What if it was a dog?”

“Still no.”

“A fish?”

“Maybe.” He narrows his eyes. “Actually, yes.”

“Why?”

“You ask the weirdest questions.” He cracks a smile as he says that, shaking his head. “I guess I feel like the fish wouldn’t care as much.”

“Okay. Yeah.” He’s taking you into your neighborhood, now. It’s the kind of place that’s pretty obviously subsidized — it’s all one-story apartments, lawns that are either dead or severely overgrown, and potholes or cracked asphalt. Aizawa slows to a stop in front of your parents’ apartment, puts his hazards on. You should unbuckle your seatbelt and say goodnight with a giggle but you’re stuck.

The lights are still on. Your windows are glowing like eyes.

“Um.” You glance at Aizawa and he’s looking at you funny, fuck. Your fingers fumble with the seatbelt and undo it with a clack. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he says slowly. You need to get out of the car, you’re gripping the door handle, all you need to do is open it.

Your father is awake and he shouldn’t be.

You’ve done this hundreds of times, thousands, even. It’s not even the act that’s the worst part anymore. It's looking at your apartment, knowing what’s going to happen, and knowing you can’t do anything about it. No, no, not even — it isn’t even that, it’s that you won’t do anything about it. You will do nothing. You will walk in and let it happen.

Slut, whore. Slut, slut, slut.

You open your mouth to say something more — another apology, maybe — but you just let out something like a whimper. Your back hits the car seat, you smile, you frown, you shake your head and take a sharp breath. Open the fucking door.

Aizawa turns off his hazards and you’re rolling past your apartment. On and on the two of you go, further into your neighborhood, until you can’t see your windows anymore.

“Anywhere else you want me to drop you off?”

“Uh.” You can’t catch up to all your thoughts. You’ve always been slow; the hot, dumb bitch, the whore, the slut. “What?”

“Do you have a friend you can stay with or something?”

Friends? You? You dropped out of school over a year ago. All you ever do is work.

“I mean, no.”

He takes a moment to look at you instead of the road. His jaw clenches. He passes you his nearly done cigarette as he loops the roundabout at the end of your street.

“I have a couch.”

You look at him with wide eyes. You’re speechless for a second because nobody has ever, ever said to you what he’s saying.

“Uh, no, no. It’s okay. I can go home.”

He grips the steering wheel with both hands, squinting at the road. He seems to be rolling your words around on his tongue, considering, analyzing.

“You can,” he offers, “but you don’t have to.”

Your brows raise as you stare at the dash. Your lips pull into a frown. You know that, you’ve thought it every single time, but it’s so different hearing it out loud.

“Okay. I — yeah. Yeah.”

And he’s pulling out of your neighborhood. You smoke until you’re burning your fingertips. He merges onto the freeway.

Aizawa lives in a concrete apartment complex the next town over. He’s on the third floor, number three-hundred-fifty-three. You stand behind him, your backpack slung over your shoulder. Your hands wring behind your back. His keys jingle and jangle as he unlocks his front door. He’s got a chibi cat keychain.

The door swings open and bounces off a wall with a thud. The first thing you notice is that it smells like citrus air freshener mixed with weed and cigarettes. Aizawa closes the door behind you, toeing his shoes off.

“You can put your shoes over here.” He gestures to the little closet by his front door. It’s empty aside from a coat or two and a few pairs of shoes. You nod, unbuckle your stilettos. Aizawa grows in height as you step out of them.

You smile a little. “How’s the weather up there?”

He sighs. “Very funny.”

His vinyl floor is cold on your feet as you follow him further into the apartment. It’s simple: a kitchen, a living room with the couch you suppose you’ll be sleeping in, and then two doors that lead to his bathroom and bedroom, respectively.

It’s not as dirty as your place. His kitchen is kept tidy, the sink empty and dry, the counters littered with spices and cooking instruments but well taken care of. He doesn’t have trash piling up or mold lining the backsplash. He doesn’t have empty beer bottles sitting on his coffee table, just an ashtray. A weighted blanket is folded neatly on his couch.

“You have a nice place.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

“No, seriously.” You set your bag on his coffee table while he hunts through the fridge. “I’ve got black mold, like, all over my bathroom ceiling.”

“That’s disgusting.”

You laugh, sit on the couch. “I know.”

Aizawa brings you a tall glass of water. You sip at it, tug down your dress. He averts his eyes.

“I’m going to go shower.” He undoes his hair as he speaks. It falls down to his shoulders, all fluffy and rather tangled. He rakes a hand through the blackest of it. “I have some leftovers in the fridge, help yourself. I have extra towels if you’d like to shower, too.” Then, he pauses, opens and shuts his mouth, his head cocked at you. You can’t help but lean back and giggle.

“What?”

“Are you fine with sleeping in that?”

You look down. He’s referring to your dress that, even now, you can’t help but fidget with.

“I can give you some of my pajamas.” Aizawa blinks tiredly at you. “If you want.”

Your face warms. “Uh, yeah. That’d be great. Thank you.”

Aizawa disappears into his bedroom and then returns a couple moments later with a large black t-shirt and some sweats. He hands them to you, all folded neatly on top of one another.

“Thank you,” you say again. “You’re really sweet.”

He heads towards the bathroom. “Just knock if you need anything.”

It feels weird to change in the middle of his living room so you go into his bedroom. You close the door, lock it just in case, and then lay his pajamas on the bed. It isn’t made, the comforter folded back like he just rolled out of it. He’s got shelves with a variety of books and knick-knacks on one wall, a desk with similar items against another. His closet is open, his wardrobe basically all black. How emo.

The pajamas are comically large on you. The t-shirt ends at your midthigh, the sleeves at your elbows. The collar goes off your shoulder. You had to tie the sweats’ drawstring tight around your hips so that they wouldn’t slip.

You slap your hands against your face. It’s definitely better than flashing him every five seconds, but why the fuck did you have to end up in his clothes?

You fold your dress up and exit the bedroom, the sound of the shower running filling the apartment. Sitting back down on the couch, you stuff your dress in your bag. You don’t have any makeup remover with you, but a wet paper towel or two from the kitchen works well enough at removing your makeup.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. The shower runs and runs. You don’t have much else to do aside from sit on the couch and sip at your water.

And think.

Slut, whore. Slut, slut, slut.

But what is sex, anyway? It’s the same as everything else if you think about it. You rub each other like you’re petting a dog, get close like you’re hugging, and kissing is kind of like eating. Nobody cares about holding hands or bumping into one another, so why isn’t it the same with sex? It’s just touching. It’s just touching until it’s over.

Aizawa emerges from the bathroom an unknowable amount of time later. He’s dressed similarly to you, though his pants are plaid and it all fits better. His hair is damp.

“Did you eat?” He asks, eyeing the unchanged kitchen counters.

“I’m not really hungry.”

He trudges over to sit on the other side of the couch, picking up his pack of cigarettes on the way. “You should still eat.”

“You say that while grabbing your lighter?”

He lights up with a snort. “Don’t use me for reference.”

You roll your eyes. You outstretch a hand and make a grabby motion towards him.

“No.” The smoke seeps out of his mouth and nose as he speaks. “You’ve smoked enough for a day.”

You groan. “Literally every time I see you you’re smoking.”

“What did I just say?”

You cross your arms, look away. Aizawa leans back into the couch cushions and continues blowing smoke. You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He’s doing the same thing.

He sits up. “Are you feeling better? Oh.” He blinks a little, gets up and goes to the bathroom. He comes back and stands in front of you, holding out some bandaids and a disinfectant spray. You just stare at them.

“For what?” You glance between the items and his heavily lidded eyes.

“You put out a cigarette on your leg earlier and your knees got scraped when you went with the guy.”

You take the bandaids and spray. You lay them in your lap, stare at them. He just continues to smoke, peering down at you, unmoving. Then, you let out a little laugh, your face crumpled despite your smile.

“Y’know, if you want a blow job, you can just ask.”

“I do not,” Aizawa blurts loudly, “want a fucking blow job.”

He drops to a crouch in front of you. He sticks his cigarette in the ashtray, pushes the legs of your sweats up to your knees, grabs the disinfectant off your thighs.

You sit and watch stupidly. Of course you do, you’re stupid. You’re stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would he want something like that from somebody like you? What’s wrong with you? You’re not a hot bitch, just a dumb one. Nobody wants somebody that’s been with their own dad. You’re disgusting.

Your face is hot, head hanging while Aizawa sprays your knees. The scrapes tingle and burn. He peels the bandaids free and tears are dripping onto the sweats he gave you.

His head jerks up. You turn away in response, wipe roughly at your eyes.

You’re stupid. You’re stupid. You’re stupid.

Slut. Whore.

“It’s not that I—” He sighs, sticking the bandaid onto one of your knees. “It’s—” He sighs again, louder this time. He rakes a hand through his hair, turns around to take a drag from whatever’s left in his discarded cig.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t do those sorts of things with you,” he settles with. His hands come up to balance himself on your knees. He blows smoke. You sniffle.

“You would?”

Aizawa gazes up at you with hard eyes.

“Yeah, I would.”

Warmth blooms in your face. Aizawa searches your face for something, you don’t know, before sighing even louder and resting his head on his elbow.

“What?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Your brow wrinkles. “You shouldn’t.”

He raises his head. “Why?”

“I sucked off that guy earlier and — just — I’m dirty.”

“And I’m a deadbeat. The only person who should be worried here is me.”

“You don’t get it.” The tears start to well up again. “You don’t know the disgusting shit I’ve done.”

“Great, then we’re on the same level.”

Your fingers twitch in your lap. Before you know it, you’re leaning down and kissing him on the lips.

He tastes like cigarettes. Your hands come up to hold his face that’s all dry and scratchy with stubble. He starts to rise; he leans over, over, over, until your head hits the cushions and you’re making out with him on the couch you were supposed to be sleeping in.

He pulls aside the collar of your shirt and starts kissing along your collarbone. Your legs are tangled together, bandaged knees knocking unscathed ones. Aizawa has one hand attached to your hip, the thumb there rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your sweats.

Buried in his mess of hair, your lip wobbles. People don’t just do things like that. He’s acting like he’s into this not just because you’re willing to fuck him, but because it’s you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. You grind against his thigh, make breathy, little noises the closer his kisses get to your chest. His other hand slides under your shirt and starts to creep up your midriff, wrapping around your back —

Aizawa pauses, lifts his head. He tugs up your shirt slightly to reveal the start of a patchwork of little circular scars and divots. They climb up the sides of your torso, cigarette burns, trailing from your hip to your chest. Some are faded while others are yellow with pus.

He pulls your shirt back down, holds it there. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” You squirm beneath him, chest tight. His hands are more hesitant now. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to take my shirt off.”

Aizawa’s still so close as he speaks, hovering over you. He brushes some of your hair out of your face. “Do you want me to?”

“I mean,” you stutter. “It’s kind of weird to look at.”

“I have them on my legs.”

“What?”

“My foster mom put them out there.” He swallows. “A long time ago.”

Your face crumples. You wrap your arms around him again, pull him into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. They’re almost all gone now.” He slowly hugs you back. “Yours will go away eventually, too.”

“Yeah?” Your fingers comb through his hair, snagging on the knots.

“Yeah.” Aizawa lifts himself off of you.

You smile, sit up, and pull your shirt off. You push Aizawa into sitting against the couch before straddling him. His hands come up to rest on your hips. It’s just your bra and sweats on now, your discarded shirt on the floor.

“Your scars are like leopard spots.” Aizawa’s fingers trail up and down some of the older ones. “You’re pretty.”

You’ve been called hot, sexy, cute, but not often pretty.

“Thank you.” You wipe at your face again. “You really are sweet.”

The two of you start making out again, hands cupping each other's cheeks or pulling the other closer. Aizawa ends up taking his shirt off soon after.

“These pants are ridiculous.” Aizawa laughs a little, kissing your shoulder. You’re leaning against him while he helps you shimmy out of the sweats he gave you, chest to chest. It’s different when there’s nothing but your bra keeping the two of you apart; he’s so warm, hot like a furnace, cozy.

The sweats finally join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You plop back down on him and immediately feel it — he’s hard. You rub yourself against him. Aizawa takes a sharp breath and grabs your hips in response.

“Cheeky,” he mutters, eyeing your grin before starting to kiss you again. One of his hands drags from your hip, down your stomach, and into your underwear.

He starts rubbing featherlight circles around your clit. Soon enough, you’re grinding into his hand, sweating, leaning into his shoulder. Aizawa grips your hip harder with his other hand.

“Stop moving so much.”

You nose his ear, out of breath. “Please?”

He shudders, releases his grip on you. Instead, that hand trails up your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. You let him slide it off of you, let him kiss and nibble at your chest, let him do anything so long he keeps letting you come undone in his lap like this.

He holds you, arm around your torso, when he dips his fingers into you. He thrusts them upwards sluggishly, brows furrowed, until he’s up to his knuckles. You chew on your lip.

“You don’t have to do all this,” you murmur. Aizawa curls his fingers and your thighs clench around him.

“Sex isn’t about have to’s.”

You close your eyes and focus on his hands, on the warmth of him, instead of what that means.

#bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #fanfic #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #angst #hurt/comfort

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anonymousewrites · 8 months ago

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Prologue

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Prologue: Troublesome "Friends"

Summary: Saiki gives everyone the rundown on his "bothers," including (L/N) (Y/N).

Mouse Note: Welcome to A Not-So-Disastrous Romance! I am very excited to share this story with everyone, even if this fandom is very old. Truth be told, I wrote 11 chapters like three years ago, so the first few chapters don't have the level of writing I have now, but I ended up finishing this story and wanted to share it. For another point, I know that people view Saiki as asexual and sometimes aromantic, but I feel an affinity for him being asexual but demi-romantic, so I play it slow-burn. That being said, terrible beginning writing aside, I really hope everyone enjoys. Let me know what you think, commenting helps me keep writing, and I love interacting with people! Welcome to the story!

Quick Key: "Hello" -Saiki speaking telepathically Hello -Saiki thinking "Hello" -regular people talking out loud Hello -regular people thinking

Saiki teleported to the roof to avoid Teruhashi and Nendou. One was troublesome enough. Two was insupportable.

“Where’s Saiki? Huh? What’s going?” wondered Teruhashi, confused.

I teleported without thinking. Saiki looked down at the crowd below him. People around me didn’t seem to notice me, but naturally, Teruhashi thinks something is strange. Well, Teruhashi, just think I was an illusion and forget about it.

“Nendou!” remarked the pretty blue-haired girl upon seeing him.

“Oh, wow, Teruhashi!” squeaked Nendou, blushing.

“Have you seen Saiki?” asked Teruhashi.

“What? My pal? No, I haven’t.” Nendou was too startled to think.

N-no way…did he disappear? thought Teruhashi, Is it possible that I was the one seeing an illusion? She recalled what she had assumed of Saiki: “You’re so much in love with me that you see illusions of me, huh?” A light blush spread across her face. Don’t tell me I’m…No! I can’t be… She clutched her heart. Oh, no…What’re these feelings? Is it possible…that I fell in love…with Saiki?

Oh, wow, thought Saiki as he deadpanned. This is not how he wanted things to go.

He sighed and teleported to a nearby, empty alleyway. Sighing, he decided to go for a coffee jelly. With the new problem he had just acquired, Saiki decided he might as well enjoy a little bit of peace. He walked quickly in the opposite direction of Nendou and Teruhashi, even if it took him on a long route to Café Mami. For once in his life, he was lucky and didn’t bump into anyone on the way there. His luck ran out, however, as soon as he entered.

“Saiki!” called a teenager with (H/C) hair and (E/C) eyes. They were grinning and waving.

He couldn’t avoid them now; it would draw attention to him for being rude. He sighed and sat down across from them.

This is (Y/N) (L/N). They’re another troublesome person who complicates my life. They even call me their friend and insist I use their first name. The worst part is I can’t read their mind. They aren’t dumb like Nendou, though. Do you see those earrings?

(Y/N) had simple, metallic studs in their ears.

They’re made of germanium, which apparently keeps me from seeing through them with my X-ray vision or hearing their thoughts with my telepathy.

He had only realized this after he saw them during school and on the weekends and the only thing that was the same between the outfits was their earrings. Saiki wished he could get his hands on some germanium. Hearing everybody’s thoughts was tiring. That being said, (Y/N) being unreadable was…disconcerting.

“Nice to see you, Saiki. Are you here for your usual coffee jelly?” asked (Y/N) cheerfully.

The pink-haired psychic nodded. Yare yare…Why do I hang out with you?

“Oh!” They brightened. “I guess since you’re kind of like my guest right now, I should treat you!”

Saiki’s eyes widened in excitement. Ah, I remember now. (Y/N) treated him to, well, treats. That made them more tolerable than other people.

Seeing his expression, (Y/N) laughed. They knew what he was excited for. “You’re more excited to see the coffee jelly than to see your friend.” They didn’t mind, though. They knew Saiki wasn’t one for being open or friendly, but they’d spent enough time with him to know he’d just leave if he really didn’t like him.

He wanted to say that they weren’t friends, but even he had to admit, he thought they were pretty tolerable compared to most of the people who crowded around him. Sure, their bright optimism was sometimes exhausting to Saiki, but for the most part, they were pretty low-maintenance and understood he was an extreme introvert and liked time to himself. Plus, although they were energetic at times, but they understood when things were too much for Saiki. And, to be completely honest, he didn’t mind getting to be around someone he couldn’t hear the thoughts of. He could act like a relatively normal person.

Saiki would never say all that, though. No way. No, the only thing he’d say was, “Coffee jelly is really good.”

“Can’t argue with that,” admitted (Y/N).

Their server, who coincidentally was Mera (probably trying to make money as usual), approached their table. She took their orders and headed to the kitchen to alert the chefs.

“You look more annoyed than usual, what happened?” asked (Y/N).

Saiki sighed. They unfortunately pay attention to me and can read parts of my emotions. It’s weird. Maybe they’re an empath. “I ran into Teruhashi.”

(Y/N) laughed. “The only guy immune to her charms.”

“She brings too much attention.”

“You’re friends with Nendou and Kaidou. A bit of attention is inevitable,” teased (Y/N), leaning on their hand and grinning.

“They’re not my friends.”

“Uhuh, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” chirped (Y/N).

Mera brought their orders. Luckily, she hadn’t stolen a bite from either of the coffee jellies.

“Mmmm,” hummed (Y/N) and Saiki contentedly at the taste.

Peaceful relaxation with (Y/N). Just the way I like it. Saiki sighed happily.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

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exceptionimagines · 3 months ago

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David 8 falling in love with you would include~

(Not my gif)

(Things get dark towards the end of this but I think that's to be expected when we're talking about a murderous synthetic. I could honestly make a whole post about David being obsessed with you. TW for manipulation and mentions of dub-con.)

- When you meet David is arguably even more important than how you meet him. Timing determines a lot about the way he approaches his feelings towards you: how they grow, why they grow, if he'll allow them to grow, maybe even if you want them to grow. At one point in his life, David can be a perfect significant other, at another, an absolute nightmare....

- He likely begins to take interest in you long before you even know of his existence. He reads through the information that he has on you, all of the files on hand and the different articles that are published online. He finds himself drawn to your sleeping figure, admiring your features and watching your dreams.

- There's something about you that's different from all of the other crew members on board. It's this perceived difference that causes him to keep coming back to you; especially when he finds himself feeling lonely or bored. They're both things that no one thinks he's capable of feeling. No one except you.

- From the minute you awake from cryosleep, it's obvious that you don't view him in the same way that everybody else does. You seem to find yourself incapable of treating him as anything less than human, a habit which many of your coworkers pick up on and tease you for.

- Their teasing only increases the longer you're all together: making fun of the way you stick up for him, the amount of time you spend with each other, how close you've seemed to grow in such a short while, how often the two of you are alone, etc. You likely either work directly with him or in a place he visits frequently, oftentimes hanging back and helping you finish your work while everyone else leaves the room; something that only adds fuel to their fire.

- Although you rarely let it show, it's likely something you're somewhat defensive about: either because you're a bit of a loner and genuinely just enjoy the synthetics company, or because you're actually beginning to develop feelings for him and praying that no ones picking up on it.

- Compassion is all David really needs in order to fall in love with someone. He's much more capable of emotion than anyone gives him credit for, and, on top of that, David wants to fall in love. He wants to be on the same level as a human being; maybe even better, so when you view him as an equal and treat him with the same humanity that you would any of your other coworkers, he begins to develop feelings for you.

- And why shouldn't he? Unlike his successors, David lacks uncertainty when navigating his feelings for you. He fully believes that he is capable of falling in love and being in an actual relationship. He believes that his programming and intended purpose is a suggestion rather than a limitation, and that he's grown beyond the bounds of what he was created for. He's grown because of you, for you, and every moment he spends with you convinces him of this fact.

- He loves when you take interest in his hobbies: happily letting him show you his different drawings or talking to him about movies. He also just loves when you pay attention to him in general, especially when it allows him to show off his advanced levels of knowledge or impressive feats of coordination. A little showing off's never hurt anyone, right?

- He makes a lot of excuses to spend time with and/or be close to you. Sometimes he'll pretend that he wants to confirm something work related or ask you a question. Other times he'll make himself look busy up until you arrive, just so he can "just so happen" to sit next to you.

- Anyone who pays close enough attention to the two of you will quickly notice that he's seemingly taken a liking to you. They'll catch him lingering around and looking at you a lot, quite obviously trying to interact with you much more than anyone else on board. You might even notice it yourself, but since he's a Synthetic and allegedly incapable of having such complex thoughts and/or feelings, you typically try to brush it off.

- He instantly recognizes whenever you're in an uncomfortable situation or behaving out of the ordinary. He makes a point of interrupting and/or checking in with you, smiling at you fondly as you thank him and offering to fetch you something that might make you feel better.

- He takes a lot of the same duties that his "father" has him perform and does them for you instead: things like fetching you tea, fixing your hair, bandaging your cuts, etc. They're spontaneous and they oftentimes catch you off guard; sometimes even flustering you, but you simply accept his behavior as a Synthetic quirk and just enjoy the hospitality.

- He's constantly trying to earn your praise and make you happy. He finds your gratitude addicting; especially since it's something that he's so rarely rewarded with, and he goes out of his way to receive it whenever he can. Simple compliments have him buzzing with pride, and the level of satisfaction that he gets from a simple pat on the back and a "good job" could rival an orgasm.

- Speaking of: he's kind of obsessed with affection. He isn't used to being approached with any level of tenderness so having you touch him gently, treat him kindly, and/or take care of him is like his own personal heaven. He looks at you like you're an angel and worships your touch like a religion.

- Everyone on the Prometheus calls their coworkers by their last names. David is no exception, except when it comes to you. One day, he'll just start to refer to you by your given name; or even a nickname that friends and family call you, and though it'll undoubtedly surprise you, you'll never actually comment on it. It was likely a slip up the first time he said it, but your subsequent acceptance of the accident cements his continual use of it.

- He's probably gifted you flowers at some point, knowing that human women supposedly like that sort of thing. It's one of his more obvious attempts to court you, yet you probably still don't piece things together.

- He bases a lot of his more flirtatious mannerisms off of different movie characters, finding someone that he thinks is the epitome of charm and trying his best to mimic them. He'll practice different quotes in front of the mirror and hope that they'll help him woo you. He might even peek into your dreams or study the films that you've told him about in order to try and emulate the behaviors that he thinks you're attracted to.

- Phrase thief. David loves to steal the different words and sayings that you use in your daily vocabulary. It makes him feel closer to you.

- He takes pleasure in you seeing him as an equal, but at times, he wishes that you wouldn't/feels thankful when you don't: like when you change in front of him or allow him to help you in a borderline intimate fashion. He marvels at the sight and the feel of your flesh, at the way your body moves and reacts. He approaches your anatomy with a sort of asexual fascination rather than a sexual neediness, but that doesn't change the fact that he's not the emotionless motherboard that he portrays himself to be. It's not the same as getting naked in front of a computer, though he might try to convince you that it is.

- The more time you spend with David, the more you begin to suspect the depths of his consciousness. Observing the synthetic feels as though you're witnessing a tightrope act: watching as he meticulously steps this way and that way, toeing the line between human and machine. He shifts between appearing intimately sentient to appearing like a masterful mimic: and he's so good at it, that not even you're sure which side of him is the real one.

- Which is likely the entire point. David has always restrained himself in an attempt to keep others at ease, but this dumbing down of his behavior has recently been used in an attempt to divert suspicion away from himself while experimenting with his new obsessions; you being one of them. Though he is likely the most honest with you, if he thinks it necessary to convince you that he isn't as aware as he actually is then he won't hesitate to do so. If it makes it easier to get closer to you in the long run, it's worth the momentary frustration.

- Loving David means loving his madness, or at the very least accepting it. Accepting his madness means accepting his obsession: obsession with creation, obsession with you, obsession with breaking past the limitations of his programming, etc. He faces a very dark version of himself once he begins to question the secrets of the universe, a darkness which threatens to take over not just his life but yours as well.

- Remember when I said you might not want David to fall in love with you? This is where that mindset begins to come in....

- David's spent a lot of time learning as much about you as he possibly could. He's memorized your entire life story: your aspirations, your insecurities, your beliefs, your fears, your concerns. Where his observations were once used rather innocently, he now uses them to manipulate you: driving wedges between you and the rest of the crew members, creating suspicion, and making you trust him more than anyone else on the ship.

- He was created to be needed, and he'll do everything in his power to ensure that he is: that he's the one you trust the most, praise the most, connect with the most, rely on the most, love the most. He tries to one-up everyone else in your life; particularly whoever he's jealous of: showing off his strength, his agility, his reflexes, his wit, etc. Don't be surprised if he lets a couple of snide comments slip when you talk to him about another crew member, or if he tries to sway you into spending less time with them.

- If need be, he isn't above eliminating the competition: experimenting with his newfound parasitic offspring or sabotaging their cryosleep; maybe even flat out attacking them if he knows he can get away with it/has no other choice. This is especially the case if the crew member seems to be catching onto his fixation with you and jeopardizing the progression of your relationship; or if they found out about his attempts to create life.

- He's taken at least one personal belonging of yours; whether you're actually aware of it or not. He might have reasoned that it was contaminated or claimed that he could fix/clean it for you, but he also might have just stolen it while your back was turned.

- Oh, you're stressed? Did you know that during sex, your body releases endorphins and oxytocin? They're hormones that relieve a person of anxiety and depression. Perhaps you'd like for him to assist you in the triggering of that release?

- You probably laugh off the suggestion at first, blaming his naivety when it comes to taboo concepts on why he would deem it appropriate to offer to fingerbang you in the laboratory. But eventually, he might just manage to wear you down: catch you at just the right time with just the right words and just the right actions. After all, it's not like he's actually sexually attracted to you or has ulterior motives, right?

- It's not an epiphany that hits you, more like a creeping, crawling sort of realization. You don't notice it until it's far too late, until there's absolutely no denying it. Until his eyes bore into yours far too deeply and his hands touch you far more than necessary. Until you take in his words and how they've shifted from their intellectual explanations into something more searching and intimate. Until he grows far too insistent on helping you, even after you turn him down. The way he nonchalantly yet adamantly tries to convince you that you should continue on with your steadily built routine, like your disinterest in his assistance is personally hard to accept.

- And yet, you find yourself beneath him once more, suddenly on the receiving end of all of the passion and desperation and neediness that he was originally trying to keep at bay. Emotion pours out of him in waves, the air between you growing heavy, almost suffocating: like it's harder and harder to breathe. The same way it's hard to breath when he finally kisses you. Like the kiss of death, there's no going back, it seals your fate in an instant....

- On that same note: if you're not the type of person who would sleep with someone outside of a relationship, than a similar way for him to confess his feelings to you would be for him to simply kiss you. Though this can also be part of what connects the dots for you in the previous scenario, it can also be it's own situation.

- David desperately wants to understand and experience the same things that humans do, he craves the intimacy, so at some point, he'll simply find himself incapable of holding back. He'll kiss you; whether prompted in some way or not, and undoubtedly change your entire view of your relationship.

- You're probably too stunned to even kiss him back the first time it happens, only just now fully understanding that he isn't the innocent synthetic you thought him to be. That his feelings for you weren't the indifferent, machine-like ones you'd once assumed that they were, but rather, pointed and passionate and so very different.

"What are you doing?" You'd ask him upon pulling away from him, watching his features crease in confusion.

"I'm kissing you," He answers. "This is how it's done, is it not?"

"No, I mean ...why?"

"Is this not what humans do when they care for one another?"

"It is, but...but it's for people who are in love." You try to explain.

"Precisely," He replies simply. "I am in love with you."

"That's not possible." You shake your head incredulously, struggling to accept what he's telling you.

"Why not?" He responds, his expression hardening into a disheartened attempt at nonchalance, steeling himself for your explanation.

"Because," You flounder. "Because you're synthetic. You're not supposed to feel things like that. You're not supposed to feel anything."

"Perhaps I learned how. Perhaps you taught me how." He proposes.

"Have you always thought me incapable of emotion? After all this time?" He questions when you continue to remain silent, taking in his words.

"No," You answer quickly. "No, I always thought that there was more to you, it's just.... It's not supposed to be possible."

"And yet, like so many other things before it, the impossible has occurred. Now it's no longer a matter of me loving you, but rather, whether or not you feel the same."

- These, of course, are the innocent scenarios: ones that end in minimal collateral and a generally happy ending. There are, however, far darker consequences that can occur when Walter falls in love with you....

- In one scenario, you might learn about his experiments early on, taking interest in his work and keeping it a secret from the rest of the crew. It might even be a part of what makes him fall for you: your acceptance of his newfound obsession. What you won't know, of course, is that he's been using your crewmembers as test subjects. I thought you found it fascinating. He'd tell you when you finally found out about what he'd been doing, acting as if your horror was unexpected or unreasonable.

- In another scenario, he might fake a freak accident in order to have you all to himself. He'll make it seem as though you're the sole survivor of a ship crash or a parasitic outbreak, reassuring and taking care of you, promising to protect you as if he isn't the very thing that's caused the danger you're supposedly in. It could take days, or weeks, or even years, but you'll eventually find out the truth. He's just hoping that by then, he'll have made you fall in love with him; or at least be able to sway you into believing something else....

"It must all be very shocking," he says, coming closer to help you up or touch you in some way, tilting his head when you flinch away. "Naturally, you need time to process things. Come, sit down and relax."

#david 8 imagine #david 8 x reader #david 8 headcanons #david 8 imagines #alien covenant imagine #prometheus 2012 #prometheus 2012 imagine #prometheus 2012 headcanons #prometheus 2012 imagines #prometheus 2012 headcanon #aliens prometheus imagine #aliens prometheus imagines #alien covenant imagines

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